Each month, write a new collection.
my god it's insane trying to get from my house tohollywood because the intersection of highland and hollywood (the street not the district)is blocked off for some something having to do with promotinga big movieand we're trying to drive here to see a small one so we turn sharplyonto some street and finally find a garage that doesn't cost 25 dollarsit only costs 20 (WHAT?) and we park and walk then realizewe are blocks and blocks away from the theaterso we walk on hollywood (the street just to remind you)in hollywood (yup, the official part of the city with the stars on the sidewalk) and there are SO MANY PEOPLE wecan barely elbow our way up the street. it's like new york myfriend says and we both should know because we are bothnew yorkers. people yelling, tourists taking pictures of eachother in front of some store and hawkers hawking and the copsdirecting traffic although nothing is moving because (remember?) the streetis blocked off but that doesn't stop anyone from yelling or trying to moveor honking. it's loud and it's still light out and my friendkeeps turning to me saying we parked in a stupid place butit's never stupid to be with the guy saying "do you want a tour?"and us saying "no no we live here" although "here" feels a millionmiles away from the little house on the quiet street with the gianttrees where they sometimes film scenes for movies which one timeinvolved 3 horses and 4 men dressed as Indians and Cowboys -- so I guessit's not far at all when you consider the matter closely.
I love the chaos of this Stephanie. Fantastic!
thanks for the encouragement John and for this process which is just generous of you and great. once again, I'm so much enjoying everyone else's work, and will comment more vociferously when able to sign into my "credentials." :-)
Are you up in Washington now away far from the madding crowds?
love this. I am a big fan of parenthetical statements (as you can see). one of my least favorite things about living in LA (Long Beach is just as bad) is the whole Hollywood thing (Oh look, they're filming a movie - damn), of course I work for Fox so I should appreciate it.
Stephanie I know Hollyweird well and this speaks easily to the feel (Hollywood in the 70's was a different vibe) I like the NY comparison too
THE TASTE OF SMOKEThey gathered at the crossroadsDark beneath cloud-crowded midnightSurvivors of a dozen rebel townsStinking of urine and bloodTrading the names of the deadFriends and neighbors left on their backsBodies emptyThey murmured of murderHad made hard choiceBetween remorse and remedyBetween funeral and furyAnd stood upon the trade roadTo lend new leadersCold steelCounsel was given Harsh words of war thrownBetween men with hard mindsAll searching for an answerUntil Dreyo stood upon the rocksAnd rallied them to leave behind Their soulsDisowning shield and armorThey traveled east all nightRunning quietly along the river banksLeaving wives and sons behindRoyal soldiers well concealedBehind stone fortress wallsIn waitingAt dawn’s first misty grayThe slayers reached the capital The fortress bypassedThe battle unreportedA city full of families So like their ownStill sleeping
Cool. You've done the fictional / fantasy poem. Fantastic!
It reminds me of some of the old English poems updated.
one of the most interesting things about this exercise is exactly how and to what extent I end up diverging from the day's prompt once the writing starts and retracing my steps at the end to see how it happened
Yeah, that's kind of fun, and all right too. It's just about writing and if you go away from the prompt, that's no problem!
The Bong RoomThe party was a celebrationFor graduatesGoing into high schooland visiting my mom'sit was crowded And loud inside my houseAnd the bamboo bongwas passed aroundfor the few who were allowedinto the back rooma bluish greenThe bong was a smoking dreamMade the room spin, I mean, reallymade the pipe become aliveto think of the Vietnam soldierswho survived the waronly to come home to moreridicule and hateas if they were to blameas they had to participateMy pipe was a peace pipeand my party was a pow wowAs a way to escape stressA way to relate I guessTo the war in my own headRunning from my problems insteadof facing what was reala mentality of realityto where I could feelAs I admit, can't stopthe problems in the worldI can only make mine less hurled in a whirl
That's a great memory and reflection, man!
You pick me up and dust me off saying the right words to keep it up!!
The rhyme scheme is flows really nice in this work and the intensity stays from beginning to end ... well done
Scoring First TimeI look at Robert“She’s not cool”the middle agedwoman walks inthe liquor storeI finger the2 dollars inmy pocketI nod at the man“He’s a tool”Robert saysI light2 smokes“Him” Robert saysas I hand him my 2the young man(older than me)in the whitet-shirt walksout with 26 packs of Budhe knows tokeep the changefrom our 4we watch thelights fromthe passingcars for copsthen crossthe streetwith our beerdisappear in theorange grove
That's great man. The universal teenage experience.
Yea, I figured it wasn't unique to me. :)
It was Chris and Tom's liquor store for us ... I can feel the tension in this
ANGELSAs you lay listeningAs I sit readingAbout a woman travelingAfter the close of her lifeWith ghosts surroundingHer wagon on horsebackHolding the reins grimlySitting beside her in silenceWith angels to guide herBy the wisdom of a childAnd the heart of a girlCarrying another inside herAs I read forwardAs you fall sleeping As Addie ends her storyAs I Lay Dying
I like this poem. Fantastic. As I Lay Dying. That's a great reference and a great dual story that happens outside the poem in our memories of that novel.
Thank you John. I love to read out loud to my wife before bed ... so it was kind of an inside/outside poem
Beer on the patioTurn off the loud ACPut on Frank SinatraLight the grillRun the day's demandsThrough our hands.
That last metaphor really does it for me. Fantastic!
Oh wow. I love this
Bath in a BucketThe fire was slowly cracklingAnd the cows had all gone homeOur marshmallows had all been toastedAnd it was too dark out to roamThe sky was filled with a million starsLike dreams waiting to be caughtWe fantasized about the riverTomorrow was gonna be hotOur tired bodies were about to makeTheir way to the big blue tentThen mom broke out that stupid ole bucketAnd we knew exactly what that meantShe heated up some waterIn dads beat up camping potThen stripped us down like criminalsStreaked with protests, tears, and snotOur naked tush's were shiveringWhile she scrubbed off all the dirtSo we tried bargaining and pleadingWhen our pride began to hurtShe sent us to bed poutingSatisfied that we were cleanWe sulked until we drifted offConvinced that mom was meanI despised that part of campingWhat's wrong with a littls grime?But mom was kind of a germ-a-phobeAnd being dirty was a capital crimeTo this day...I'd rather stand up in the middle of churchAnd recite "There once was a man from Nantucket"Than ever again face the indignityOf taking a bath in a bucket
That's wonderful. Really great stuff!! You have a gift for this kind of humorous rhyme. I feel your pain too!
Bells on My SocksMotelHoe-tel,California.Sigh. You know those things you pray to do?And then when they happen its a big sarcastic whoop-de-doo?I should charge. I dont know why I don't.Maybe its because of those static period where nothing resembles these days, weeks, months...years,These fuck-ing "moments."Oh God, what the fuck for?!I love you as my sweet Jesus,So why do i feel like your whore?Just cuz i said yes and not no?What about all those g damn times i truely said yes and you up there on your throne, said no?Hmmmm?Everytime i drive into one of these motels hoe-telsEven when it happens to be a nice hotel, when somethings smiling down on me,I cant help but go through that list...And i go, "If only you had given me to him,I would have given him myself over and over again,But noooooooo, dont make it easy for me, huh?"Oh, you and your dear sweet ways my Lord, Does this amuse you?I find it cruel that you hoardMy heart's life and laugh at it.As if the way i sway Were only up to me,And not subject to life's interesting little maze,These planets...a line of jawbreakers and gumdrops.So God wants to see me whole...? Hmmm,Then why do i enter these seasons where he makes me into sliced bread,Unevenly threadAll across a cheap table with garnished with plastic wrapped cups?Sometimes I think there couldnt be a GodBut then I look up, Shake my head and nod.You truly must be God,Because your poetry really is the sickest.Do you constantly have to prove your point And make me feel like the hickest?Huh?Another dark night,You found me again,Collecting up pieces of woman and girl child,Glueing them aright until the light.Trying to forget sweet bends,That could have been seen by Him.Meant for him.
That's great. Religious and passionate!
Thanks alot. Even sacrilegious, maybe, sadly.