Write a poem every day

Nutella, sickly sweet.
Smooth across my tongue.
Stirs memories of a London grocery store,
Cold sandwiches, Pringle cans, Pepsi bottles,
Airports with few seats and no air conditioning.
The Dardanelles with diamond pebbles sparkling in the sun.
A perfect Frenchman serving Italian whose name I’ll never know.
“I am not the Superman.”
Oh, but you were.
An extensive flight, a stiff neck and a blink
And I’m back.
Here, with my jar of Nutella,
Green spoon,
And green eyes,
Staring at the cold computer screen
And remembering.

CED 11/13/09

A November Night’s Dream

Your face held every face in a moment,
A gift of grand performance unsurpassed.
But when you turned your eyes towards my seat,
The cool façade was gone, your face unmasked.

I saw a settling of your expression
As if you wished to stay for some great while.
But at a lone word from your companions
You must needs be torn from my warm profile.

At your smooth voice, my heart began to throb,
For one small utterance drenched me in fire.
You glanced at me, saw my eyes had darkened
Smoldering in the depths of my desire.

You wrenched your head away from my visage,
And struggled to recall yourself in act.
For as my heart beat ever more apace
It felt the beating of your heart react.

As we remained thus, entwined in feeling,
I watched as you dispatched your gift anon.
And after the show ended with such joy,
You beckoned me to follow you o’er yon.

Hands joined, as one we stepped into the night,
And welcomed her dark cloak to help us hide
From voices loud and ever-prying looks.
Our eyes re-met, you pulled me ‘gainst your side.

You held me close, my body pressed to yours.
I gently laid my hands upon your chest.
I reached up, kissed your cheek, your ear, your throat,
You shook your head, raised my chin in protest.

With one check for my swift reassurance
You bent your neck to hover o’er my lips.
Pausing to tickle my mouth with your breath,
Then uniting our hearts in one strong kiss.

CED

again it’s a bit late, but I haven’t gone to sleep yet, so this still counts as the day before. I really love that it’s in iambic pentameter. That’s what took so long. And the 2nd and 4th lines rhyme each stanza. yay.

It’s a bit after midnight, so this is a little late, but that’s okay.

I know I cannot live the simple life of the country,
That I am doomed to fall asleep on my bed of broken glass,
But I wish for a yellow morning with grass aplenty
And a jar of strawberry jam, with a clean spoon stuck right in it.
I wake to no yellow mornings.
Instead, a lidded, grey eye awaits me
With its tousled greasy hair and gritty teeth.
And my broken glass bed with its cigarette pillow,
Still warm from my broken glass dreams.

CED

I have nine minutes to write this poem
With little imagination to go on.
I barely recalled
My daily scrawls
In time to write for this forum.

I guess 2007 was the year of action. Let’s start again.
This should be pretty difficult to keep up with. I usually end up writing poetry when I’m avoiding homework, so perhaps this won’t be so bad. I’ll just have to make a conscious effort to do it every single day. I guess I’ll start by putting up a poem I just wrote yesterday.

Title: Resistance

Cowering, under my bed,
Fist shoved in my mouth to avoid screaming.
Watching with widened, frozen fish eyes,
Nostrils flared and stomach threatening to overflow.
All orifices of secretion of my body are revolting,
Demanding freedom of passage.
But I must resist, I must not allow anything to seep out of me,
For they can smell fear
And I am already a red flag on a field of snow.
I’m not breathing.
I can see the toes of their heavy boots,
Heavy with hatred,
Pounding the floor as they exit.
I remain silent and motionless for an hour.
Two?
Fear knows no time.
Finally, a barrier is breached.
A single droplet slides from my left fish eye
And burns a salty track down my cold, left cheek.
This tiny crack in my impregnable blockade
Is all my body needs.
I shudder.
I lurch to my right and retch.
Rolling back under my bed, I pull in a rasping breath,
The first full breath since they arrived.
Since they seized my sister,
Dragged her off by her ankles,
Her frozen fish eyes already brimming.
She held me in her eyes until she couldn’t reach me.
I can see her mouth open to cry out,
Then slam shut to save me.
Now, my mouth slams open to cry out,

One clear note of brokenness.

And I collapse, spread flat on the ground
Like a dead bird, fallen straight from its nest of young ones.
Sobbing until nothing remains,
And then staring with my frozen fish eyes into the depleting darkness.

Something from within me stirs.
A foreign feeling.
Life.
Why, when I want it least of all, does this harbinger appear?
It tells me, “She must not be forgotten.
Give up, and she is lost forever.
Get up, and make sure the world does not forget the monsters it has created
And the innocents it has devoured.”
I exhale shakily and gather my fortitude.
With a final sob of pain like a frozen fish-gutting knife
I crawl from beneath my bed and raise my dead limbs off the floor.
As the night closes its door on the coming day,
I open mine on the world.
Here I come.
With tears in my eyes and blood in my mouth.
Resistance.

i’m so intent on reviving my creative streak that i want to try and get something down on paper every single day during 2008.

this means that in a years’ time i should have 365 little poems shouting out from the pages of my notebook.

we’ll see.

I can’t seem to accomplish this one.

Around 1 am
We’ve passed that magic hour
Darkness fell
Around us and the twilight
Overwhelms me

Dawn’s not far
But I don’t want to see it
Hold me now,
And pray that there’s no sunrise
Tomorrow.

Rays of gray
Breaking through the night
Close your eyes
Artificial night will have to do
I’m with you.

My days were once halcyon. I woke up in the morning, and I was oblivious to what was coming up, in the best way possible. Whatever life was gonna throw at me, I was gonna take it, and make the best of it. I should have been damn proud of myself, but that would have ruined it. The only thing I kept from those lovely kindergarten days was apple juice.

Is it more or less of life to be carefree?

You who make my heart so it couldn’t be broken
You who stands most loyalty by my side
You who dedicate your loving token
To adorn my bed in the evening tide
You who make it so the light is always shining,
Oh, what shall I do when you die?

The beautiful sun doesn’t shine on closed doors
So I opened my heart to you
And darling you took it and you made it soar
You let my voice ring strong and true
O’er the seas that are turbulent, what shall I do
What shall I do once you’ve died?