some days I wrote couplets and no sonnet was borne.
I learned more about myself on this goal than shows in the outcomes.
I learned I need to give myself breaks with the metrical poetry. I loved doing NaPoWriMo and it was fun to do both goals simultaneously. Looking VERY forward to doing Pantoum.
Structured AND free, more free than either Sonnets or Villanelle or Rondolet.
Phew. I have learned so much from my poetry adventures this year so far! 4 years ago
Read thru reminds me of first days of school
Slight nausea, excitement – new clothes, too
Worry I might not know the secret rule
So much unwritten yet known silent cue
Is it ever just another morning
Are the words criticism or rave
Dad said, “Pink skies, sailors heed the warning”
Is it approval or truth I should crave?
Question yanks at me, fetters float, they drift
Piled hihg in opinion mountains – CONCEIL!
Comes the shout, squeezes the space for shift
Is this something my heart wants to reveal?
Throw the blanket of doubt out: I do know
Above all, its real – this – that – what is so 4 years ago
To simply write: Daily – Sonnet as in Daily – Pantoum… to mean, engage with the form daily.
So you don’t complete one, you don’t complete one.
Forgive yourself and move along, with grace and happiness that you did write, just didn’t necessarily come up with a finished product.
Reminder – its the PROCESS. Yes, the PROCESS! 4 years ago
The Writing Wounded
Writing tore my heart that Spring day
His leg bouncing, pepper pressured speech
Detracts my attention and I want to say
(or is it shout?) stop it, energy leech!
I consider a diagonal move
Wild versed deep growl, “Silence, I know, restore!”
A commanding, beyond cellular groove
Distracts from passion, pain skin tears galore
“It’s only words, written here, on a page!”
How, how, how, how can you say such a thing?
Words placed there by a most beloved sage –
Does your spit land on a gold wedding ring?
I made it through a dense lived afternoon
Tomorrow will bring more words, heal me – soon 4 years ago
What is it wanting to open, begin?
Choose a date then hit the button “restore”
Something tugging in my gut, yang and yin
For the hell of it walk out the in-door
Which of my innards will I pay to start?
Familiar frienemy I call her fear
my veins or my stomach, my lungs, my heart
She comes close when transformation is near
Measure and mix into the purple crock
I stand, ready, at the front of the line
wipe my wet, working hands on the blue smock
For once not asking, but knowing, the sign
What am I showing the world with my face
Countenance light, invitation to grace 4 years ago
Paradise sits inside me, right here, now
It isn’t someplace other, where one goes
Ego absent: no ovation, times to bow
More a movement, the wind as it blows
I turn to my friend, her gift from the sea
Dive into smooth sounds – her words on the page
Paradise has a heart beat, here in “Yes, we”
The rhythmic drumming is itself a wise sage
My heart finds hers, yours, ours and crows “We are!”
Write your dreams – put your wishes – in this jar 4 years ago
Expert in the whole conventional thing
Not drastic nor dense nor a huge surprise
With the divine message “Julie, go sing”
His phone call was an angel in disguise
Long ago work place death threats set me free
It hasn’t always been easy or smooth or sweet
Street sign posted, “Here, I am meant to be!”
Epics of airborn ass, face in concrete
Plastic stepford turns November to May
Those twenty five faces each smiled me home
Face plants ring my perfect crooked path way
Lone request, “Allow my heart-soul to roam!”
Spirit voice becomes life spent deep in art
Mottled vats of courage, daily, to start 4 years ago
When words fail, I reach for brushes and paint
Pulse is jagged crooked mottled not straight
Demons tap tap away my golden saint
This is what it feels like to hate…hAtE.. HATE
Feet bore markings of purple yellow bruise
Where the hell are the straight lines, circles, squares?
Incoherent thoughts chase mimic, shout, confuse!
I am sick of damned emotional flares – -
Admit you enjoy becoming splattered
Climb to the apex of artistic flop
Filthy glee at being dark, torn, tattered
Throat clog brings it all to a screeching stop
Hatred: broken with divine love and glue
Beauty comes in climax through breaking you 4 years ago
Sunrise fell upon my new pink notebook
Invitation to fill white space, blue lines
My desk, waiting on time, in its nook
Images there, holding future gold mines
Jill drives her car straight alongside the curb
“Good morning!” she smiles, “So good to see you.”
I jot phrases, collect sounds, a quick blurb
Neighborliness soothes us, I agree, too
Monologue words strengthens, my soul speaks
I hear blurring songs of mismatching birds
Little girl giggles and playful child shrieks
Pencils protect flocks of parading nerds
My hand aches – not bad – just distracts a bit
My coffee, lukewarm, calls me now to quit 4 years ago
Will edit and put here later.
Simply creating its space now
It is about being in a karaoke bar
and asking the question
“What am I doing here?” 4 years ago
Today, in honor of World Autism Awareness Day I called the School Psychologist who completely missed the boat when he encountered Samuel. If he had followed what he is supposed to ethically follow, Sam’s outcome would have been very different. I am now advocating for much more, and I just want to say to this gentleman whose name I won’t use…)Thank you for awakening a sleeping giant!*
He said he was listening – did he hear?
The two are not the same, as he should know
I am intimate there while he is near
He speaks in tell while my heart beats in show
His vivid recollections made me blink
The naming of her name caught my breath
In these past two years he did more than think
Duck season, dying died death after death
Wonder this: it’s not over yet or now
Not as long as learning misses its cue
Instead of staying stuck, open to how
Think of the child not what “I just can’t do”
It doesn’t work, not here, anymore
Education shouldn’t be just a chore – - 4 years ago
Also posted on other goal:
I didn’t notice there amidst the trees
Your purple halo with feminine wave
My heart rewound to the call of the breeze
I clawed out from the “big stuff matters” cave
My eyes told my heart “Remember the rain!”
“Thunderbolts strike and shake you off your feet!”
Stay alert for a fast escape from pain!
Is that a whisper, praying “bitter sweet”?
Do I see a sacred Namaste bow?
Or is my mind playing a vibrant trick?
All I see are giant, green grasses now –
Aging rope ties my brain matter, too thick
Breathe into the yammering then let go
What you think you saw and heard, you do know 4 years ago