Day 9 – Moonrise

Thousands of miles a minute,
and yet indiscernible to the eye
except in relation to the tilt
of our heads close together.
Sharing memories, making new.
A dog barks, children laugh,
the troubadour plays his song.

Close to sleeping time,
but first we chill,
joke and chuckle.
Go where we will,
enjoy the proximity.
Who are they?
Yet who are we?

Thousands of miles a minute,
yet indiscernible to time,
except in relation to the tilt
of our lives close together.
Making memories, sharing new.
Children bark, a dog laughs,
and the troubadour plays his song.

Listening to Lionel – Day 24

Do you suppose dancing on the ceiling
is the same as raising the roof?
I imagine the effect is similar –
sudden sky and finches in the rafters.

Does a single note of music ever hit you
just right? Listening to a song you’ve heard
a thousand times, and one note, or one word,
or one beat of silence

gets you right in the feels, as they say,
leaves you reeling, resonating like a bell,
so you don’t hear the rest of the song,
for the rest of the day…

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Inspired by my favorite Lionel Richie song, “Dancing on the Ceiling”, which is fun to wake up and dance to in the morning. Also somewhat inspired by the Poetic Asides blog prompt to write about a moment. Enjoy again xD

Day 23 – Something fine

Listen, can you hear it?
It’s only Spring, and already
the birds are singing.
How extraordinary that such tiny
piping voices could create
this cacophony of music.
It is a symphony the equal to any
that one might hear in a grand golden hall.
It is not a carefully plotted, planned, or practiced composition,
but it is marvelous.
Just as much a heart-easing, smiling inducing,
joyful noise as any church’s choir could produce.

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Just a happy little poem to make up for missing yesterday. Enjoy 🙂

Day 17 – Writer’s block

Could she go some distance
giggle it away like flat soda
drawn and deaf to the symphony.
Pull up, step out, break off
like a candy bar, she’d give you a piece
if only you didn’t take it first.
There’s a thread on the key ring,
don’t sew the locks apart.
Nothing she does is striking.
Nothing she does is fine.

Could she go any time,
with no fire in her eyes,
no bells in her ears.
Tap down, lay out, pick in
like a scab, she’d worry and scrape
if only you didn’t poke it first.
There’s a nail in the floorboard,
don’t step in the roses.
Nothing she does is violent.
Nothing she does is done.

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Written in about five minutes out of exasperation and writer’s block. Just trying to write my way out of it here, so forgive the horribleness. Enjoy xD

Frustration – Day 14

Do they comprehend how
deeply she thinks
when all she wants to hear
is mellow folk and the
steady click of keys;
talk at her too long
there go her eyes
away to distant worlds
building realities around
one picture and a word;
don’t hold her to the fold
she’ll toss and carelessly
turn around to smile
but her smile is empty;
emotion spent like so much
loose change upon
a daydream and a poem
soft violin and prose.

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It’s been a frustrating day. I’ve been struggling all day to write something, and then this ridiculous thing comes out in five minutes. I have no idea what to do with it, so I think I’ll just post it and let it sit. Enjoy x)

Poetry Slam

She’s found that she prefers the obligation.
A few days without lifting the lid,
and she’s already going blind again.
She tells herself not to give up,
but let the monsters out,
black and white like music.
Don’t silence the broken notes,
she’ll put them together,
make them make sense.
Shout out to the void and listen
here comes the echo,
understanding and connection.
Fellows of the forms reach out.
One voice across the chasm,
two hands to bridge the gap,
a hundred hearts swept up by the rhythm.
She opens her eyes again.

 

I love poetry slams. I couldn’t get up on a stage to save my life, but watching other people perform poetry is always inspiring. This weekend I went to a festival with music and art and dancing, and I spent Saturday afternoon listening to and writing poetry.

Today – Day 26

Today, poetry is not in my hands, but in my feet.
I can put steps to music easy as breathing,
but don’t ask me to make words good.

Today, the fiddle and the accordion move me.
The mandolin and the drum get my foot tapping,
but my hands just go where the music says.

Today, I revel in giant floor fans and breezy doorways,
in marvelous bands and old-time friends.
no poetry is in my hands today, my feet have danced it all away.

Dragons – Day 20

This music demands to be
played loudly.
Here, this means to me
what that meant to you.
Listen, words incomprehensible
ring clear and true.
Rebellion keeps us
above oblivion.
Imagine, I close my eyes,
find I am free.
What would you? 

 

Inspired by the band Imagine Dragons. My dad doesn’t like their music, but I love it, and I do play it rather loudly. This is certainly not my best poem this month, or the most eloquent way of expressing my love for this music, but it’ll do.