30 Poems in 30 Days (Redux)
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Remec
Master Glomper
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- Jun 28, 2003
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10 - 20 Family Dinner
The pot was still on in the
empty kitchen, I noticed,
the smell of basil over-powering
the now slightly scorched
tomato of my grandmother's
timeless recipe;
I took up a spatula, turned down
the burners and began folding the
sauce slowly upon itself,
looking out the window as I did to
ponder how quiet and still the
pool seemed now that everything
was back to a semblance
of normal;
My mind can conjure how Mary Beth
had pivoted about, mouthful of wine
still being swallowed, dashing outside,
knocking over a chair to clatter
upon the concrete pool deck, and hopping
in to fish out one of the non-swimmers
who shouldn't have been out
there to begin
with;
Luckily, Grandma's spaghetti will be
just what the doctor ordered to make
everything alright.
The pot was still on in the
empty kitchen, I noticed,
the smell of basil over-powering
the now slightly scorched
tomato of my grandmother's
timeless recipe;
I took up a spatula, turned down
the burners and began folding the
sauce slowly upon itself,
looking out the window as I did to
ponder how quiet and still the
pool seemed now that everything
was back to a semblance
of normal;
My mind can conjure how Mary Beth
had pivoted about, mouthful of wine
still being swallowed, dashing outside,
knocking over a chair to clatter
upon the concrete pool deck, and hopping
in to fish out one of the non-swimmers
who shouldn't have been out
there to begin
with;
Luckily, Grandma's spaghetti will be
just what the doctor ordered to make
everything alright.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,055
Nshm-20
Volunteers of America
We are a human carnival
dancing and spinning like fools,
like the freaks we are, misfits come
together in sparkly bedraggled grime
of tye-dye, denim, feathers and bells,
come to celebrate vast indifference
to suburbs jobs and let me say
one word about Plastic: No.
It smells green in Sheep Meadow,
the great lawn tumbles to the city,
the clouds and vivid blues are within
and without us. We're enchanted by sitars
and tambourines. We dance, burn incense
patchouli nag champa strawberry
rolling papers. A hairy guy
in a jester cap gives me a brownie
and Oh St. Stephen I giggled
when you rubbed my belly
with sweet almond oil, we are
so much more altered than Alice
B. Toklas could have imagined.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzHBr0ndKus
Volunteers of America
We are a human carnival
dancing and spinning like fools,
like the freaks we are, misfits come
together in sparkly bedraggled grime
of tye-dye, denim, feathers and bells,
come to celebrate vast indifference
to suburbs jobs and let me say
one word about Plastic: No.
It smells green in Sheep Meadow,
the great lawn tumbles to the city,
the clouds and vivid blues are within
and without us. We're enchanted by sitars
and tambourines. We dance, burn incense
patchouli nag champa strawberry
rolling papers. A hairy guy
in a jester cap gives me a brownie
and Oh St. Stephen I giggled
when you rubbed my belly
with sweet almond oil, we are
so much more altered than Alice
B. Toklas could have imagined.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OzHBr0ndKus
Last edited:
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,437
10 - 22 Stopgap
Poems fill my brain to
overflowing, but I find
my head may be too full
for them to navigate their
way through synapse
and nerves to fingers
working a keyboard in the
late hours of a
rather unpoetic
evening. Looks like I'll
have to wait until
tomorrow.
Poems fill my brain to
overflowing, but I find
my head may be too full
for them to navigate their
way through synapse
and nerves to fingers
working a keyboard in the
late hours of a
rather unpoetic
evening. Looks like I'll
have to wait until
tomorrow.
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,437
10 - 23 Cheesecake
She was like something
out of Vargas,
lightly painted cheeks,
well lined eyes,
soft white flesh complete
with rounded curves,
but she dressed herself as Betty Page
by way of the
Saturday Evening Post,
all mysteriousness beneath
gingham and kitchen aprons,
hatchmarked stockings
just barely
showing.
She was like something
out of Vargas,
lightly painted cheeks,
well lined eyes,
soft white flesh complete
with rounded curves,
but she dressed herself as Betty Page
by way of the
Saturday Evening Post,
all mysteriousness beneath
gingham and kitchen aprons,
hatchmarked stockings
just barely
showing.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,055
Nshm-23
Motown Stardust
Martha you look slick
in your sequins and wighat.
Oh that shimmy you do
with the sexy little ass dip,
I hadn't thought of you
until a heatwave rolled in
and started burning burning,
not a cloud in the sky
and trying to survive the melt
I thought about dancing
with you-- two steps up back
part monkey part frug. I know
what to do: shake my finger
wave my hot hands in the air
woo woo, cryin come on
and get these memories,
drop a storm or two.
Motown Stardust
Martha you look slick
in your sequins and wighat.
Oh that shimmy you do
with the sexy little ass dip,
I hadn't thought of you
until a heatwave rolled in
and started burning burning,
not a cloud in the sky
and trying to survive the melt
I thought about dancing
with you-- two steps up back
part monkey part frug. I know
what to do: shake my finger
wave my hot hands in the air
woo woo, cryin come on
and get these memories,
drop a storm or two.
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,437
10 - 25 Waiting for the Clouds to Break
The water's here;
All my senses can tell,
I see the warp in the air
as heat rises from concrete
and tarmac coalescing in
waves that try to fool the
unwary wandering through
urban desert with images
of urban oasis;
I feel it on my skin as I
leave the cool dark of the
house just to walk down
to the car through that
light-so-bright-it-hurts
and the touch of sweat
and condensing humidity
gives me the chills when
I come back inside;
I taste it on my swollen tongue
and the rapidly reappearing
film of salt at the corners of
my lips whenever I am outside
for more than a few
moments;
I smell it as it gathers in
ominous clouds of assorted
shades of black and grey and
silver--hints of ozone following
along to keep it company as
it strikes up soundless flashes
through the summer sky;
But it remains silent, no sudden
clash of deluge dropping from above,
or steady pitter-patter like
the rapid tread of my cats when they
chase their invisible prey from
room to room in the middle of
an otherwise sedate
evening;
The water's here;
All my senses can tell,
I see the warp in the air
as heat rises from concrete
and tarmac coalescing in
waves that try to fool the
unwary wandering through
urban desert with images
of urban oasis;
I feel it on my skin as I
leave the cool dark of the
house just to walk down
to the car through that
light-so-bright-it-hurts
and the touch of sweat
and condensing humidity
gives me the chills when
I come back inside;
I taste it on my swollen tongue
and the rapidly reappearing
film of salt at the corners of
my lips whenever I am outside
for more than a few
moments;
I smell it as it gathers in
ominous clouds of assorted
shades of black and grey and
silver--hints of ozone following
along to keep it company as
it strikes up soundless flashes
through the summer sky;
But it remains silent, no sudden
clash of deluge dropping from above,
or steady pitter-patter like
the rapid tread of my cats when they
chase their invisible prey from
room to room in the middle of
an otherwise sedate
evening;
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,437
10 - 26 Images From the Past
Eyes behind glasses,
curve of body and ass,
the way her breasts hang
when she's on hand and knees,
that lonely and longing for
attention look her boxer always
seemed to have when she
came over to lick a hand left within
her reach,
the frown and glare that was
usually not directed at me but
seemed to be all I got after
things broke off,
I have a bit of a remembrance of
the tactile things, and there are
certain scents that will always be
associated with those days, but
I wish I knew for certain that
I would know the sound of her
laugh or speech or the way she
gasped and moaned when
coating fingers or other things
with all her juices.
Hearing seems to be the first
sense that Memory lets Time
destroy.
Eyes behind glasses,
curve of body and ass,
the way her breasts hang
when she's on hand and knees,
that lonely and longing for
attention look her boxer always
seemed to have when she
came over to lick a hand left within
her reach,
the frown and glare that was
usually not directed at me but
seemed to be all I got after
things broke off,
I have a bit of a remembrance of
the tactile things, and there are
certain scents that will always be
associated with those days, but
I wish I knew for certain that
I would know the sound of her
laugh or speech or the way she
gasped and moaned when
coating fingers or other things
with all her juices.
Hearing seems to be the first
sense that Memory lets Time
destroy.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,055
Nshm-26
Awakening
My first bikini was blue
and white, a Hawaiian print
that dipped low past my belly
button, clung to my hips
and pushed me
up into cleavage.
Linda's mother pinned me
with her eyes up and down,
pinned me like a butterfly
and said Stacked.
I wanted to run away,
but later when I sat
atop the pool ladder,
crossing my legs
and bending to laugh
with the girls
I saw Kenny Muccha
watching me and I knew
this is a whole other
game.
Awakening
My first bikini was blue
and white, a Hawaiian print
that dipped low past my belly
button, clung to my hips
and pushed me
up into cleavage.
Linda's mother pinned me
with her eyes up and down,
pinned me like a butterfly
and said Stacked.
I wanted to run away,
but later when I sat
atop the pool ladder,
crossing my legs
and bending to laugh
with the girls
I saw Kenny Muccha
watching me and I knew
this is a whole other
game.
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,437
10 - 28 Summer Storms
She sat on the porch,
more of a stoop, really,
and sipped from a tall glass
of ice water; just enjoying the
counterpoint its chill made
to the warm dampness of the
day's humidity against
her skin,
Occasionally, she would take a sip
and breathe in the scent of the
sliced lemons floating amid
the ice cubes, they added just
the right light touch of flavor
to the water,
The day had been long, but boring,
so she sat, watching the darkening clouds,
and listening to their muffled
roars as the anvil formed down
the road a pace and began a
slow crawl towards her.
She sat on the porch,
more of a stoop, really,
and sipped from a tall glass
of ice water; just enjoying the
counterpoint its chill made
to the warm dampness of the
day's humidity against
her skin,
Occasionally, she would take a sip
and breathe in the scent of the
sliced lemons floating amid
the ice cubes, they added just
the right light touch of flavor
to the water,
The day had been long, but boring,
so she sat, watching the darkening clouds,
and listening to their muffled
roars as the anvil formed down
the road a pace and began a
slow crawl towards her.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,055
Nshm-27
Rondelet Variations, Summer
Come closer, look
at summer bursting from the mud.
Come closer, look
at ripe fruit grown, freed from the bud,
Sun paused vertiginous above
a beige shoreline teeming: My love
Come closer, look.
Seashore seashell
baa baa the sheep shod by the bay.
Seashore seashell
the shoreline shifts at break of day
under the boardwalks pilings lay
and we two hidden from the fray.
Come closer, look.
Rondelet Variations, Summer
Come closer, look
at summer bursting from the mud.
Come closer, look
at ripe fruit grown, freed from the bud,
Sun paused vertiginous above
a beige shoreline teeming: My love
Come closer, look.
Seashore seashell
baa baa the sheep shod by the bay.
Seashore seashell
the shoreline shifts at break of day
under the boardwalks pilings lay
and we two hidden from the fray.
Come closer, look.
Last edited:
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,055
Nshm-28
American Novel 101
By the time we read Updike
I can tell you want to subvert us,
open us to irony and the danger
inherent in organized systems,
institutions like this one
where bees drone outside
the window and the late summer
heat smells grassy.
By the time we've reached Nathanael
West, I am Miss Lonelyhearts'
worst accolyte, seduced
by your determined bookish ways
and wanting more than words--
to take the skin and fur, the bone
of you urgently yes and surround
you with silk flesh, engulf you
and make us complete, if only
for moments.
Somewhere between Mickey Spillane
and his ridiculous similes
and cool ascerbic Dorothy P,
I meet Justin, your teaching assistant
and see the way you look
at each other and realize oh
I am mistaken I am naive, foolish
shame burns until we read Bellow
and all is forgiven.
American Novel 101
By the time we read Updike
I can tell you want to subvert us,
open us to irony and the danger
inherent in organized systems,
institutions like this one
where bees drone outside
the window and the late summer
heat smells grassy.
By the time we've reached Nathanael
West, I am Miss Lonelyhearts'
worst accolyte, seduced
by your determined bookish ways
and wanting more than words--
to take the skin and fur, the bone
of you urgently yes and surround
you with silk flesh, engulf you
and make us complete, if only
for moments.
Somewhere between Mickey Spillane
and his ridiculous similes
and cool ascerbic Dorothy P,
I meet Justin, your teaching assistant
and see the way you look
at each other and realize oh
I am mistaken I am naive, foolish
shame burns until we read Bellow
and all is forgiven.
Last edited:
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,437
10 - 29 One Never Knows
Tired of living under
the same old comparisons
in virtually all corners
of her life, Shelly swiped
her sister's diary
intending to find the
dirt to show her sibling
up once and for all, but
found nothing but a
fervent longing and a
fearful, curious soul
looking for a way to
submit to her younger
sister and show off how
much she admired her.
And that was all it took.
Tired of living under
the same old comparisons
in virtually all corners
of her life, Shelly swiped
her sister's diary
intending to find the
dirt to show her sibling
up once and for all, but
found nothing but a
fervent longing and a
fearful, curious soul
looking for a way to
submit to her younger
sister and show off how
much she admired her.
And that was all it took.
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,437
10 - 30 Looks Like Rain
The late afternoon
drizzle always
reminds me
of you, and of her
as well, with the
way the light
dims and
leaves the thick
clouds to show
off their
heavy
curves
as they dribble
a fine mist
over me,
not raining,
per se, just sort
of throwing a
blanket of
damp on
everything.
The late afternoon
drizzle always
reminds me
of you, and of her
as well, with the
way the light
dims and
leaves the thick
clouds to show
off their
heavy
curves
as they dribble
a fine mist
over me,
not raining,
per se, just sort
of throwing a
blanket of
damp on
everything.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,055
Nshm-29
Not Another Monologue
I hope you're been reading
because I wrote each poem
having thought of you just now
or a minute or hour ago,
not trying to think of you
nor suppressing thought, but
as far as I know you could
be on the Moon or Mars; I
have no idea how souls hear
speaking with no voice as it were
I just can't stop talking to you
yet so I hope you're somehow
able.
Not Another Monologue
I hope you're been reading
because I wrote each poem
having thought of you just now
or a minute or hour ago,
not trying to think of you
nor suppressing thought, but
as far as I know you could
be on the Moon or Mars; I
have no idea how souls hear
speaking with no voice as it were
I just can't stop talking to you
yet so I hope you're somehow
able.
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