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I hope it is okay to write here. I read the Original Post and it seemed like it was ok. If it isn't, please delete this.

Tissue rumples the sky
so softly I lift my hands
to stroke its paper belly,
calling out its rain.
 
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playcatch said:
I hope it is okay to write here. I read the Original Post and it seemed like it was ok. If it isn't, please delete this.

Tissue rumples the sky
so softlly I lift my hands
to stroke its paper belly,
calling forth the rain.
Click to expand...

It's fine. Welcome and write on. I like your poem. :)
 
I wouldn't turn
when roses fell
when friends called
when the sky stormed.

I overheard someone
who thought every time anyone said
earth, they were racist. I met someone
who thought every mention of rain was her.
I was someone who believed
red was my own invention.

The belly's lies are loud. Ignore them.

I am here only because I turned.
Because I missed you.
 
I
will
read you
with pleasure
and trust that the wheel
turns and we can't anticipate
the darkness nor light,
but the ties
bind us
as
friends.
 
Angeline, you are seriously rocking the Fibs. I've enjoyed all of the ones you've posted. Still looking forward to the completed Jazz set.
 
playcatch said:
I wouldn't turn
when roses fell
when friends called
when the sky stormed.

I overheard someone
who thought every time anyone said
earth, they were racist. I met someone
who thought every mention of rain was her.
I was someone who believed
red was my own invention.

The belly's lies are loud. Ignore them.

I am here only because I turned.
Because I missed you.
Click to expand...

I like this much, playcatch. Not even sure why, but i fell into your telling. And for me, that's as good as it gets.
 
pensivepoet said:
I like this much, playcatch. Not even sure why, but i fell into your telling. And for me, that's as good as it gets.
Click to expand...

I saw this earlier and I meant to comment on it and to welcome playcatch, but I was carried away.
I like this poem also very much, playcatch, it gave me that kind of pleasure that sincerity only gives me.
Thanks for sharing and welcome to the forum!

(thanks also, PP, for reminding me of it). :)
 
pelegrino said:
I saw this earlier and I meant to comment on it and to welcome playcatch, but I was carried away.
I like this poem also very much, playcatch, it gave me that kind of pleasure that sincerity only gives me.
Thanks for sharing and welcome to the forum!

(thanks also, PP, for reminding me of it). :)
Click to expand...

I did the same thing, Pel. Read it early, then again later, then one more time and wondered why i hadn't shown my appreciation for a poem I liked.
And of course i liked yours too, Ange, but you know i always like yours.
Night all
 
pensivepoet said:
I did the same thing, Pel. Read it early, then again later, then one more time and wondered why i hadn't shown my appreciation for a poem I liked.
And of course i liked yours too, Ange, but you know i always like yours.
Night all
Click to expand...

playcatch is a very good poet. Just sayin. :)


Bookish Fib

I
was
reading
this book, and
some guy said why are
you reading The Idiot, you
idiot? I must
emit some
radar
for
loons.
 
Trixareforkids said:
Angeline, you are seriously rocking the Fibs. I've enjoyed all of the ones you've posted. Still looking forward to the completed Jazz set.
Click to expand...

Thanks Trix. :)

I find that if I write a form over and over I really get to explore its possibilities. I'm still thinking about the Monk set. It needs more but I'm not sure what yet!
 
Angeline said:
Thanks Trix. :)

I find that if I write a form over and over I really get to explore its possibilities. I'm still thinking about the Monk set. It needs more but I'm not sure what yet!
Click to expand...
Maybe it needs an anti-fib for balance... say the first 8 numbers of pi.. 3 1 4 1 5 9 2 6...

I would write
the
definitive
thought
that breaks through the rules
to shake our standards free of proper
modes of
this fibonacci form!
 
champagne1982 said:
Maybe it needs an anti-fib for balance... say the first 8 numbers of pi.. 3 1 4 1 5 9 2 6...

I would write
the
definitive
thought
that breaks through the rules
to shake our standards free of proper
modes of
this fibonacci form!
Click to expand...

You're such an anarchist. :D

I want to focus on the words, not the numbers. But you knew that, Ms Cage Rattler. :kiss:
 
I'm Only Sleeping Ghazal

"Scrunch down," he said, "close your eyes and listen. Soon you'll sleep."
Nights were younger then and blurry. I wished the moon to sleep.

In Maine dawn comes at 4 am scented with baking bread wisping in the grate
and the sound of Dvořák or Satie. We'd spoon asleep.

I travel in my dreams: space and time are limitless then--
I've been to Jerusalem, worn gold robes cocooned in sleep.

There's always music in my dreams, once I heard a bluebird
sing a familiar song, a bright and fluid tune of sleep.

I love my bed, so soft and sweet. You are lingering there
in the memory of air or the whispers that remain in the swoon of sleep.
 
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Always Times Tables shrunk me low
to the fifth grade desk cubby
where Asimov waited, but
eight times three is twenty-four stuck.

(This is how we divide our day,
Teacher explained: eight
hours for meaningful work,
eight hours for pleasure, and eight hours
sleeping off the other two,

deep enough to swim and kick
away nibbles of unutterable
desires.)

Another thing I learned in fifth grade:
it only takes two inches of water to drown
face down.
 
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Blank Affection

I have lain in fields of lilac, fragrant
purple petal rain of joy, shivering
silk and grassy earth a cradle the ground

the blanketing sky the Sun gone quiet,
tiny flowers adrift the day then me
at the window, my seeing in and out

all the seasons of breath from planting days
to cavernous snows, lacy and the crows
that laugh, like cartoons missing the captions.

Pleasures are simple: swallowed, heard or felt.
Toes sunk in sand, lemonade, bathing suits
drying on the fence in sharp salty air,

transistor radios crackling rock
and rolling with the waves distant as youth
unchanged in these billowing blue mountains.
 
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Body Language Receding

You have become a space
in the bed a scent fading
from the pillows. Why

only a few months ago
your essence was still
lush in the sheets I

could roll on it, drink
in something more
than a memory. It was

pure animal joy it was
lust to be wrapped
in and savored but

there's always a but
because tempus fugit,
baby and similarly

the wound to my heart
is scarring over, the wild
madness yielding a numb

but necessary callus.
 
The mote:
Angeline said:
Body Language Receding
...

the wound to my heart
is scarring over, the wild
madness yielding a numb

but necessary callus.
Click to expand...
The glos:

Body Language Impeding

The wound to my heart
bleeds a harsh acid into living
and I pray that the raw gash

is scarring over, the wild
anger and fear, the receding
agonies packed with grief -

madness yielding a numb
pathway to sleep. A memory
of you, irritates a painful

but necessary callous.
I hate it's thick, unfeeling
bulk right where my heart

beats in denial of you gone.
 
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champagne1982 said:
The mote:The glos:

Body Language Impeding

The wound to my heart
bleeds a raw acid into living
and I pray that the raw gash

is scarring over, the wild
anger and fear, the receding
agonies packed with grief -

madness yielding a numb
pathway to sleep. A memory
of you, irritates a painful

but necessary callous.
I hate it's thick, unfeeling
bulk right where my heart

beats in denial of you gone.
Click to expand...


:heart::heart::heart:
 
Do I need to make you think
of spaces between words
and why they even matter

when much more happens
body language speaks
hair prickles your skin

bumpy maybe a goose
walks over your grave
or another circumstance

befalls you literally rocks
shake beneath you
and it isn't just skin

but crumbling and you
trembling sense a shift
away from you at least

you think you do
enough for your bones
to go cold and November

to ripple through you
like a threat that scatters
through your branches

later upon awakening
you'll equivocate not sure
it was a dream.
 
Blues Sonnet
11/19/14

When I first wake up I know that I'm alone,
open my eyes to all your space alone.
Can't even hear you on the telephone.
You were do all right. That was fine by me
Smiled and played it close, did just right by me.
Everything smooth swimming in your sea
You're gone baby but you're still on my mind.
Where can you be but on my lonely mind?
Papa I just love you: I'm so inclined.
One of these old days I'll see you again--
float into the haze and see you again.
I'm pretty sure where, just can't tell you when.
I say my prayers for you every night
and one of these days I'll shine in your light.
 
Beautiful, sweet friend. Need a tissue now. You are writing out a river, it seems. I am thinking beavers need to find new cribs. Powerful waters always find a way.
 
playcatch said:
Beautiful, sweet friend. Need a tissue now. You are writing out a river, it seems. I am thinking beavers need to find new cribs. Powerful waters always find a way.
Click to expand...

Did you see that Craig challenged me to write one? I hear it as a song in my head. And yeah, as usual, poetry is saving me. ;)
 
I don't know if this is poetry
but my spirit demands I write
now while strength still holds
my spine erect and while tears
are checked behind the strong
levees of friends and family

I mourn the man these ashes
are gathered into. How can I
keep smiling at happy days?
I remember his face
beaming welcome to his son;
the instant recognition
of his daughter's kindred soul.

I only weep sometimes,
more often I smile and laugh.
I know he'd get it -
I know he'd understand.
 
champagne1982 said:
I don't know if this is poetry
but my spirit demands I write
now while strength still holds
my spine erect and while tears
are checked behind the strong
levees of friends and family

I mourn the man these ashes
are gathered into. How can I
keep smiling at happy days?
I remember his face
beaming welcome to his son;
the instant recognition
of his daughter's kindred soul.

I only weep sometimes,
more often I smile and laugh.
I know he'd get it -
I know he'd understand.
Click to expand...

Blues Sonnet 2
11/22/14

I might be wrong but usually I'm right.
You're on my mind and I ain't sure that's right.
I wish that you were here with me tonight.

I might be wrong and you might not be gone.
Could be no need to fuss and fret forlorn--
you could be somewhere good that's just moved on.

Still pray to see you. Come into my dreams.
Please daddy I need you. Come into my dreams,
just act like nothin's really as it seems.

If you would only come back for one day
I'd shoo my blues and laugh my cares away.

:heart:
 
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