The Hurricane by W.C. Williams February 4, 2010
Posted by lisadalrymple in Inspired Poetry.Tags: Inspired Poetry, poetry blog, The Hurricane, William Carlos Williams
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“The Hurricane”
William Carlos Williams
The tree lay down
on the garage roof
and stretched, You
have your heaven,
it said, go to it.
Ego (a love poem) January 27, 2010
Posted by lisadalrymple in First Draft Poems.Tags: Ego (A Love Poem), first draft poem, poetry blog
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He cuts a star down like fruit
sips on the juice of night
shine seeps from his lips
when he speaks all I see is light
I am the warm throat
of a sleeping child,
breath eager and brief
in and out, out and in
hot and orange
bright and burning
We redefine ego when we kiss.
Purgatory by Elizabeth Onusko January 21, 2010
Posted by lisadalrymple in Inspired Poetry.Tags: Elizabeth Onusko, Inspired Poetry, poetry blog, Purgatory
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“Purgatory”
Elizabeth Onusko
Now I understand why. Someone turns loose the winds on me
and I’m a fountain of fire, someone tosses me into the sea
and I float in a boat of flames, someone pushes me under
and my lungs implode like hydrogen blimps. Every bronchiole burns
as I fall to the sea floor. Then I notice, rising above the waves,
a confluence of birds finding formation, v-shaped as they ascend
at the same speed I sink. The air is their aviary, and at some point,
they’ll shift southward as if they are coming to save me,
as if the act of being saved is worth more than the hope of it.
Impromptu January 21, 2010
Posted by lisadalrymple in First Draft Poems.Tags: first draft poem, God feels, Impromptu, poetry blog
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I am a member of Toastmasters, and in each meeting we practice impromptu speaking as well as give prepared speeches. So it occurred to me to write an impromptu poem, since my poetry blog was feeling lonely. Or I suppose it would be more accurate to write that I was lonely for it.
I wonder how God feels
man is a beast, all jolt
and emotion
if we are a mirror
as it has been written
and retold in countless
holy rooms
is it not logical
to believe that God is a
Rothko painting
color and oil and saltwater
should we not
adorn
our statues with beads of sweat
with jeweled tears
and the small scale caverns
of dimpled smirks…
Hmm, that’s all for now.
Untitled-December 21, 2009 December 21, 2009
Posted by lisadalrymple in First Draft Poems.Tags: first draft poem, poetry blog, stone tablet, untitled
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I would be the provider of a stone tablet
my message custom-carved with an old century
version of a pleasing font
just to make my heart clear to those
my tongue is chalked by
I exist in a panorama of silence
even small caves in stone are muted
by their lack of pattern
I exist pre-pattern
my heart is an unformed beast
But let us not suppose that all irregular
creatures are unhappy
I am the stone unformed and yet
I exist in some artist’s mind already
a vision in the pre-form.
Milk December 13, 2009
Posted by lisadalrymple in First Draft Poems.Tags: first draft poem, Milk, poetry blog
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Milk tastes of watered down chalk
or soap filtered of inhumane chemical
left to warm in the blanket of room
This glass of socket white nourishes
my fragile teeth with the tough love
of a mother, wagging her finger -
you should know better than
to let the milk get old.
Mason Jars December 12, 2009
Posted by lisadalrymple in First Draft Poems.Tags: first draft poem, Mason Jars, poetry blog
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Mason Jars was born with a transparent heart. His face was an inevitable reflection of his thoughts. He always carried preserved bits of emotional nourishment, just in case. One day truth fermented. In truth, he was a she, bones knocked awry in artichoke hearts. She was tempted by gravity. She made her own decisions. Mason was all curve at all times. A woman with a clear conscience and clear aims. To nourish herself and thereby nourish the inhabitants of her skin. Jars is a thing given to another human-thing and consumed and emptied or spilled out or cleaned out and refilled and again. She is share and she is keep for yourself.
Sin December 10, 2009
Posted by lisadalrymple in First Draft Poems.Tags: first draft poem, poetry blog, Sin
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I wonder how God feels
about metal yard angels
left out in the rain to rust
(sins of humanity)
a manifestation in orange and brown
The saint must grow weary
of protecting the disappeared
Must grow filthy, in color,
and yet disintegrate
into manufactured particles
This neglect cannot be painted over.
This failure cannot be disguised.
Candlelight is Erotic, but False December 6, 2009
Posted by lisadalrymple in First Draft Poems.Tags: but False, Candlelight is Erotic, first draft poem, poetry blog
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Romance by candlelight:
skin at it’s most
luminescent
love at it’s most
potent
like wetted bark or
the heavy shades of twilight
mystery is eyes straining to see
to kiss sepia lips in the dim,
but
All candles are liars
mere flickers of flame
wax may melt, but
it is only that
All candles burn a false fire
