Each month, write a new collection.
it was july so we thoughtsummer and liberation -- all dressed up for revolutionary teain paris, but then the sharp ice stonesfell the hard hurt of the tiny droveme and my friend under an awningwhile she danced with fascinated painunder the darkened sky. ow owshe cried and then laughed then cried then spunas her pale white dress turned greywith the melting pelletsyou're going to get sick i thoughtbut for once i shut up with the naggingwhen i saw my friend laugh too -- put her hand out to feel the little knivesthat fell undreamt of in the middle of theMarais. guillotines, i thought. but no it wasmore like needles. what fell was miniscule but itreally stung. i put my hand out too. then we bothstood in the shower of pain. why? because it wasso unexpected, and because she -- the youngest of us --liked it.
That's wonderful. I love all the allusions to history and nature and everything!
I love "the hard hurt of the tiny"
a poem that explains the inexplicable. great resonant language and very memorable imagery like the "shower of pain." and I love the way you finish this.
Snow DayDecember in LA Verneand I’m home sickthis is the lifedaytime TVcheese enchiladasin the toaster ovensnuggled in myPJs in a blanketon the couchthe sky is darkit’s gonna rainpeek out the windowAaaaak! what’s that?it’s snowing! It neversnows in La Verne!what a wayto ruin agood sick dayjeeez, I know whatthey’re doing atthe Junior HighThey’ll all runout of classplay in the snowsnowball fightssnowmensnow angelsand me sickat home - it’snot fairI’m gonna throwon some shoesput on a jacketgo in the backyardand throw mea snowball
Once every five years or so we get a little snow and the world turns wonderful. Good memory man!Mother nature sneezing indeed!
Yea, and it ruined my great sick day. There is a picture of my Mom standing in the front yard of her house in LA (Lincoln Heights) with snow on the ground - in the 30's.
Hail hail FootballIt is just another football practiceSkies cloudy and weather coolWe get to go down to the big fieldWhere the games are played on Friday Nights when rarely we ever practiced thereWe were only Junior VarsityWe only were allowed on theBaby field up near the classroomsThe weather turned colder andthe hail came suddenly out of the skyPelting our helmets with a ping, Ping, ping,Then harder and faster it started raining downThe size of dimes or round marblesIt was slamming harderThe coaches were not protectedOnly wearing there baseball hatsWe had our full gear on with helmetsand pads as the hail bounced off of uslike we were superhero's invulnerableThe helmets rang out like pinball machinesRinging and binging, bonking, and boinkingOff of us bouncing and hitting like a machine gunnow rat, tat, tat, tat, bing, bing, ding. ding ding, We werehaving fun! Why do we have to go in now?! Then I thought to Myself, this is a lifetime experienceas fun as a beach ball being bounced off the hands of the seating during a gameBut at the same timeI was in an open fieldand protectedfrom the forces of nature
That's great Daryl! That sounds horrible, but one of those moments you never forget!
THE FLOOR OF HELLThere’s heat and then there’s desert heatDryRehab heat where even the cactus screamFor something to drinkAlmost as brutal as the note she sentWith sad little character marginalia pleadingPlease get me the fuck out of hereIt was cool in August near the seaThe drive to Sycamore Ranch proved viciousCruel even with the air full blastEvery mile away from the coast up a degreeUntil I reached the sadistic shimmering mirage Of promised sober living and found her crumpledWaiting in the shade of sharp tongued yucca plantsClutching a twenty-five-year-old stuffed animalWhose plastic eyes were nearly meltingIn front of pink stucco and promisesAnd her tears drying in the wicked sunAlmost as soon as her heart released themI held her close remembering her scarlet feverWhen she was a baby but our bodies seemed coolCompared with the floor of hellWe drove home not speaking only the sound of the A/CEvery mile a degree cooler until we reached the seaOne day at a time one degree one moment that’s allTo think about now The moon rose early and the ocean breeze brokeThe fever of the desert our hearts melted with the waves.
Wow! What beautiful and emotional poem. I love the mix of natural details and man made, especially that stuffed toy. It says so much!
3 in the morning, Steve at the slider. Fire in the yard.Flames belched upAt the bottle brush tree,Crackled and crawledAcross the deckGrabbing for the house.UhohohnoI froze at the door.Steve grabbed the hoseTurned on the waterBlasted the fire Back down from the tree,Knocked off the flamesDestroying the deck.Soon it was over.What happened?The grate beneath the BBQWas open a crackEmbers fell throughFell down betweenThe boards in the deck,Lit the weeds thereWhich fried the wheelOn the BBQ.Off kilter it fellOnto the deckWhere the coals turned to flames.UhohohnoScary close call.
That's great and that is truly mother nature sneezing! I'm glad all was all right. You really drew me in!
The Weather is Always FairI've always been luckyThe weather's never badNature never plagues meNo turbulence to be hadOh sure, I've been in rain stormsWhere the power has gone outAnd have driven in some crazy fogThick like a head on freshly poured stoutI've felt the rumbles of an earthquakeAs it shook me to my coreBut the ground has never opened upAnd dumped me at the devils doorOf course I've seen some floodingI watched it on the newsAnd yes, there've been wild firesSaw them on the news tooNever stared into the eye of a hurricaneNo tsunami has ever made me pauseAnd no twister has ever picked me upAnd set me down in OzI've never lived in snowy placesSo I've never shoveled the driveAnd no blizzards have ever swallowed my houseOr buried me aliveI guess I'm pretty fortunateThe weather's been kind to meThe trees are always shadyAnd the cool breezes ars always free
I love the use of meter and rhyme in your work. I have to say though, Valley Fog scares me to death! Worse than earthquakes to me!
Blue Golashes with a Dinosaur DetailHe warned that I would need them.I said, "No, way."He said, "Let's go buy some."I said "Okay."I worried they would be nerdy.He assured they were not.But he loved computers,And I hated Spock."Okay, I'll take these then." Spoiled. I replied."Alright, are you sure?" He questioned."I'm sure. Just buy them and secretly rolled my eyes.""Okay, if it will make you happy.""Of course it will!" I said.All along thinking,"Let's just get going, I'm done."So on we went,And I did not much doubtThat a good penny he'd spent,But I'd never wear them out.Days later,I had never seen it rain so,After all, it was Pomona,Not known to rain, hail or snow.Instead of dropletsThe water went SPLATHurting my earsUpon the brim of my hat.A dreadful day, he was right.A spiteful day, I was not.What was worseWas how cute I felt in my golashes and how snobby I acted because my nice shoes never got messed up.
That's great. You've set up a real beat for this poem too!
Why thank you, kind sir O:-)