Music-
from my son’s shower
can be heard
from the other room
over the hum
of the A/C,
over the pattering water,
off key,
tuneless melodies
drift across…
words made up on the spot.
no rhyme
no rhythm
but music just the same,
filling both rooms
with artless
grace and
beauty
*admin note: WordPress, despite repeated tries on my part, refused to let me paste my poem into the blog without changing the spacing. The spacing above is a close approximation.
Cosmic Cube
when we talk of dimensions
what exactly do we mean?
are we speaking of our space
or of something inbetween?
we oft refer to time
as dimension number four
but if that’s really true
then what is that dimension for?
-
In space we designate
coordinates
that number three
concrete ways to mark our place
within reality,
but then what is the good
if we do not factor time?-
to be at the right place
but still be missed at half past nine?
-
So we speak of our world
our lives we live 3d
but common sense dictates
if we split and change
degrees of freedom -
ad infinitum -
than we live in eternity
-
well okay- not so common
but that’s beside the point
-
The cosmic cube
stacks our lives
like a set of lego bricks
we think we’re moving on
but it’s time’s stationary trick
so we live-
we love-
we die-
but no matter what we do
it’s forever
etched upon
time’s stationary cube
-
So if someone asks you
where we’ll be eternally
just think of lego bricks
and smile enigmatically
-
-
*inspired by Rudy Rucker‘s non-fiction book, The Fourth Dimension and his description of the block universe.
**Lego cube in the photo assembled by Monsterbat
When I saw this writing prompt via Twitter, I couldn’t resist. Enjoy!
In the United States of America we celebrate July 4th as our Day of Independence.
Write a poem (in whatever form you choose) about freedom.
Fourth of July
sacrifices made
to ensure our liberties
not just for ourselves
but for ones we’ll never see
people in other lands
owe a debt
that can’t be paid
we owe that same debt too
one we remember today
*
If I’m unhappy
with the press
politics
or law
I’m free
to oppose them
and not
to come to harm
*
But the price
of this freedom
is awareness
of our laws
our news
our actions
Without vigilance
we are lost
*
So today
as you celebrate
with friends
and family
take a moment
to consider
the cost
of liberty
Alone Time
When I have
time alone
i know
what i will do
i’ll ride
my bicycle
and write
something new
i’ll catch up
on my housework
i’ll organize my files
i’ll submit
several stories
and research
and try out
my new pen
i’ll try
to sketch
some flowers
or maybe
something new
but first
i think
i’ll watch
a film
only i
want to see
i’ll sleep in
and take my time
and…
oh look-
Time’s up.
*Photo taken from The Commons at Flicker courtesy of Nationaal Archief
“Burst”
A cherub
in black rims
and a white tee
As I watch him
singing
trying so hard
to do a good job
nervous
in front of a crowd
but happy
to be among friends
I look away
down at my shoes
to hide my tears
Sometimes
it hurts
when your heart
fills with so much love
for another
that you feel
like it must burst
“Sweet Relief”
Anxiety
leaks out of my fingers
onto the keyboard
staining the page
with all my worry and tension
Speaking
my fears
make them seem more real
I don’t want
to speak them
to give them substance
By putting them down
I destroy them
delete them
tear them up
I hope
At least enough
that I can deal with them
in the real world
I hope
*Had another anxiety attack this morning and these were the words I kept thinking over and over. Usually when I write something like this down, it helps me feel better, but this morning it didn’t really help.
**Update: I edited this a bit more. One stanza seemed redundant, so I deleted it to strengthen the rest of the poem.
Bonsai
Words spill
onto the page.
Sometimes you need
the mess
to find the clues
you leave yourself.
*Due to technical problems, I was unable to post #fridayflash this week. However, I encourage everyone to read this week’s submissions and leave feedback.
JUMBLE
All a jumble
what should i do?
freewriting
or something new?
but wait i have housework
i need to pay the bills
just another load
oh what else should i do?
the words
spill on the screen
in a jumble
like my thoughts
i know i’m forgetting something
what should i get my spouse?
tomorrow’s our anniversary
and i need to make a card
he won’t tell me what he wants
and i don’t know
except
for things we can’t afford
but if that is what he wants…
what am i saying?
we need to fix our house!
i need to work on the garden
but only after school
my son should finish math soon
then we’ll cover history
and then there’s lunch
and oh- another load of laundry
maybe i should freewrite
but then again
i think this counts as that
or maybe i should
check on my submissions
or work on #fridayflash
or outline my new story
i think i’ll take a nap
oh i only wish
i wish i wish i could
but first
i need to do the dishes
or maybe just put on pants
my bathrobe’s good enough
to do the housework in-
right?
*I wrote this free form poem this morning. It’s not my favorite, because I usually prefer my poems to be more structured. However I confess that the disordered state of the poem perfectly reflects my state of mind – at least sometimes. I hope you enjoy it.
A Quiet Evening At Home
The smell of fresh pretzels
wafts into the room
filling my head
making my mouth water-
The pounding
of the soccer ball
(dribbled by my son)
vibrates through the furniture,
The noise of the tv
mixes with the tapping of the keys
from my warm laptop-
All senses engaged
A quiet evening at home.
Panic
Terror.
Waking up-
fear clutches
a tight ball in my belly.
Not always the boogieman
or the dark-
but constant fear
of failure,
of disappointing loved ones,
of the unknown.
When will it stop
making my heart race
like a pony in my chest?-
running the race
til he dies
from exertion
and exhaustion.
If only I could
slow the beating of my heart
or just
keep my hands from shaking-
My mouth tastes like iron.
I long to hold my husband
and my son-
talismans
against the terror
that grips my heart.
It’s ironic-
since the thing I fear most
is disappointing them,
letting them down.
Lower expectations
seem safer-
but terrible.
I need to put on a brave face
in the face
of failing to meet
my expectations of mediocrity.
I fear
I was born to disappoint.
I wish I could quiet my heart
so it wouldn’t beat so loudly
in my chest-
It’s distracting
and only adds to my distress.
This trembling-
Make it stop.
*
*I wrote this poem about a month ago as a way to exorcise a panic attack I experienced. I never intended to show it to anyone, so I’m feeling sort of exposed. However, now that I’ve started submitting my fiction and poetry, I’m working on developing a tougher skin when it comes to sharing my poems. Recently, I read an interview with Karen Schindler of Miscellaneous Yammerings where she talked about posting her poems even when it’s hard. Thank you, Karen, for the inspiration.