Each month, write a new collection.
walk thewild citypace acrossthe measuredpath - step tomiss the linesalone insidemy mindnot missingmissing the people passingby insidetheir steel trapsor floating byon their feetI fly on theground insidemy mindin my ownwild world
wow. the short unstressed lines and slow pace work really well to emulate isolation. then the contrast of the two diphthongs at the end. you make it look easy with so few strokes and such control. blown away.
Yeah, absolutely agree. You can really feel the isolation working through this.
thanks. also I got stuck into making prose poems and wanted to move back to my strengths, so I tightened it up.
WIld! I really like this one.
Stay CloseStay close to the houseif there's talking in the woodssometimes it's not safeStay close to the houseif there's excrement of menthey may have moved inStay close to the houseif there's still smoke in the pitsomeone is nearbyStay close to the houseif there's some half eaten foodthey may be back soonStay close to the houseif there's hidden dirty clothesthey could hide you tooStay close to the housewhen something doesn't feel rightthey could be watching you
nice, and scary
using a command as a refrain is brilliant. hair-raising.
Why thank you! I didn't realize until I was half way through with it, that each stanza is a haiku. Which works for me, because I wanted each one to be able to stand alone. Who knew??
I love the tension and fear going through here, and using the haiku as a stanza is genius!
"Stay close to the houseif there's hidden dirty clothesthey could hide you too"Fantastic!
totally effective. "the excrement of men" is killer.
There’s something about this broad deserted beachYou know how it feels: the wind off the white capscircling your memory, searching for a reasonto return home. You remember the gull’s cruel cries reminding you, never, never, never again.You understand the waves now, how they tear at the coast wanting to bring a piece of timeback with them to their deep forgotten grave.
the use of "you" really works for me.
Yeah I agree. That's a word I generally avoid, but it works well here!
Yes moribund AND second person ... big risk. I didn't realize the Poe connection until after :) I was going for communal singular-ness/human loss. took a few chances on this one. I'm really having fun Mr. Brantingham !
a nice hint of Poe there.
LIFECYCLENot every person knows a father.Not every person has a friend.They say that as a species we pair bondBut it isn’t always so.Sometimes the heart is cold.Sometimes the years just pass by filled with nothingAnd the line finally leads to the edge and just ends.There are examples of life without joy, without warmth.This is a clinical mystery of biology rarely studied.What type of person would have interest in such things?When animals are studied there are 30 phyla from which to choose.There are 30 phyla organized under Kingdom Animalia.Animals you will recall from science:Item: Annelida--the segmented worms.Item: Arthropoda with chitin exoskeletons--spiders and crustaceans.Item: Chordata--mammals and lizards among them.These are familiar. These we recognize. These we understand.But 30 phyla make up the Animal Kingdom.Item: Loricifera--visible with the naked eye.These animals require no light.These animals take no breath.Environment: high-ammonia salt brine.First collected in 1970 by Reinhardt Mobjerg Kristensen.First identified in 1983 by Reinhardt Mobjerg Kristensen.Item: Reinhardt Mobjerg Kristensen.Born: 1948.Parents: deceasedSiblings: none.Graduated: University of Cogenhagen, 1972.Employed: University of Cogenhagen, 1972-Status: singleChildren: noneInterests: invertebrate zoology, invertebrate biology, arctic biologyAchievements: considered one of the world’s foremost experts on tardigrades.Discovered: 3 phyla of animals.
i really really liked this. how it veers off into this scientific/biographical information.
Yeah the clinical nature of this is really effective. Captures the mood and the theme!
It was broken down to get you interested from who will be the soul person to study to the what was studied to the life without a life studying on nothing other but life itself, as I love the way it is describing from beginning to end.
I hike big sur by myselfNot the hard trails. The easy ones. The ones with views and the ones with twisted oaks and the ones which bridges over brooks and streams, if there’s a difference and there must be. The trails with redwoods whose trunks gape open and she — if she were there — could hide in them. It felt good. It was hot and I was tired but I knew I could handle the steepness and the heat. I sat on the high bench and looked at the valley. I ate a sandwich. I drank water. I knew needing no one was an illusion, but it was an illusion I held close to me that day. I took one step then another. Felt capable. My legs worked, my knees worked. I stopped and rubbed my hands on a tree trunk. He said I would like Big Sur. He was right, but I wasn’t talking to him. I lifted my chin and looked up a long way. I was empty but it felt like survival. I walked back down, saw the parking lot teem with strangers.
Nice, I like this one. It travels well.
I love the empty loneliness here. Beautiful!
Nice! I think it would be even better in the present tense.
Forest BathThe group has left without me, so I walk the brushy path to the river. In this dry year, a thin stream rambles down the center of the rocky river bed. No one is around, no one watching but perhaps a rabbit or a deer. I remove my clothes and settle into the deepest spot. The water curls around my middle. I lie against a rock and watch a small cloud tangle in the tops of the pines. Flowers standon the edge of the river but they will not say their names. Yellow, I call one, salmon another. People are talking on the trail that runs behind me; I can’t see them, trust that they can’t see me, and don’t care. The sun is warm, the water cool, and only I am here in this sunlit pool. A bird knocks at a Jefferson pine, a jay wings by in the shadows. Leggy skaters danceon the water’s face. How long may I stay?
"Flowers stand on the edge of the river but they will not say their names."
Michelle would tell me about all the trees and plants we would see by the road. She took a lot of science classes in college. I could smell the Jefferson pine in you poem because she told me it smells like vanilla.
Love this poem and I think I remember this moment although you only told me about it. Obviously wasn't there. One of those great bonding with nature moments!
"In this dry year" -- great line.
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It was not until night fellThat I felt alone in the woodsIt was a big mistake I made asThe darkness was upon me alreadyI could not see the palm of my handIf I held it in front of my eyesA deep feeling of isolationFear and a sense I was In danger of running into a wild Animal of head long into a treeBoy, I was in trouble, and nobodyWas around to help meScreaming would be futileI may as well keep quietI needed to get back to campI was about two mile away I guessI wandered off Not thinking dusk meantNight was around the cornerI was just an hour ago walking aloneAlong the edge of a river enjoying The nature and the way the riverWinds and follows no rulesAs I walked along obliviousTo the danger I was walking towardThe edge of darkness I knew would Swallow me up only to realize Too late what it really meantTo be alone in the woodsAfter the sun goes downNobody knew where I wasNobody saw me leave campMy only fortune was a set of three lights in the distanceWhat were they, lanterns, campfires, someone's flashlight?I didn't want to intrude on someoneIn case I had to tell them I was lostRunning into the right campground was remoteBut I had to estimate how far I had walked in the Hour I was awayI knew I was near some campsSo I kept on walking in the pitch darkHoping I would run into someone I knewI went to the third set of lights over as I ambled in not knowing if I was back safeIt was the right campEveryone surrounding the campfireAs I sat down not telling anyoneOf the predicament I was put inA man of few words they spoke of meI had gone to enjoy nature and ended up Scared of it at the same time Kind of like when a riptide takes You out to sea and you are all aloneWading and treading to survive the trouble But I was glad to be back in campSafe, sitting around the campfire
Ah man, terrifying! Great moment and great poem!
so scary! i had to rush to finish it!
I got nothin', just nothin', no nature, no lossJust got me top ramen, avocado on topA husband who loves me, a dog who's the bossA kindle, and ice cream, my AC runs nonstop.I gained me six pounds since Christmas I learnedBlah blah health, blah blah weightBlah blah lab work, blah rulesDown with scales, fill my plateStomp on diets I hateDown with charts, graphs, statistics, and medical tools.I'm not alone, not in nature, and there is no lossJust a husband who loves meAnd a dog who's the bossAnd a carton of ice cream calling to me--Darling, I'm here, and so is TV!
That's great. I love the rhyme scheme and meter you set up here. It captures the mood of the whole thing!
Amen! I love the audacity of your truth. The frankness and the flow.
And really, you're still in the confines of the theme. You're writing about "your"nature, your world. I think its fabulous
For years she has walked these woodsstraddling Richland Creek. She’s confessed her lamentations at the altars of honey locust and hickory. She’s whispered the story to the sassafras and sycamore trees, hoping it might help her make sense of a life deserted by God and reason.There were the usual expectations about time and healing. But as muchas they were lost to her, she felt every day was lost to them-- again. She made a list of days that mightlook like healing: The day she could cry without convulsing. The day without howling. The day she could look someone in the eye. The day small talk came without effort.The day she would laugh and believe it. A week ago she woke up to an extraordinary snow. The late, full moon almost made dawn out of the night. She cut a solitary trail through her velvet forest, while everything slept. Ahead, bush honeysuckle reached acrossthe path in a gothic arch. She venturedinside and lay immersed in its quiet, weighted geometries. She emerged from that cold wood uncertain, yet invited.This morning she sits by the window.Last week’s snow lays about in tatters. The wind scatters seed of the miscanthus she’s sure she never should have planted. She didn’t know how hard it would beto find someone to be.She thinks back to those bold, awkward years—all the artless, perilous decisions that led her here now—Who is she in this hollow bowl of winter?--Lynne
that last line really echoes
Yeah, and this stanza starting here is out of this world" She made a list of days that mightlook like healing:"
Joshua TreesHe'd brought me there.I sat inside some rocksLooking out to the desert.He left me with a pipe and some bud.This made me happy.He went over the rocks to change.It was like I had never ruled the world until then.A high cave woman looking over her domainLike a lioness who knew she was the Lion.Legs crossed, hair long, eyes hung, spirit tall.My sweater was warm in the morning. The temp. was perfect.I meditated and drowned in the beauty.Until he appeared atop a high rock,A dark figure shooting arrows at me.Literally but figuratively.I was struck and shockedMy ego bentAnd mind twisted.I wondered then if we were not indeed angelsBut demons fighting a war on Plains of intoxification.Enemies of heart and mind.
I LOVE that poem! Fantastic!
THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY :-D