#NaPoWriMo 2017 April 28 – Skeltonic verse

I read somewhere
and you should care:

Facebook’s fastest growing group
will stage a coup
a very lively troup –

on Twitter and Facebook
take a careful look
don’t overlook
or let facts be mistook –

women over fifty-five
making Facebook come alive
those who analyze
and the profits drive
and the money thrive
say that’s no jive –

so don’t misapprehend
the latest trend
to be your friend
until the end.

April 27 late addendum

Day #27 – Late addendum

Sweetness –
a warm ocean breeze
the sweat on her forehead
green with brown stripes

Sourness –
unripe naval oranges
early morning daybreak
yellow with purple polka dots

Saltiness –
dirt from the garden
seaspray over the bow
lemon and garlic and pepper

Bitterness –
a pot of dandelion greens
ice cold beer on a hot day
brown and black herringbone

Umami (savory) –
bean soup & stewed tomatoes
coffee beans roasting in the oven
underarm sweat w/o deodorant

#NaPoWriMo 2017 April 27 – Some questions about taste poem

April 27, 2017 – some questions about taste poem

Is taste only a
chemical reaction
on the tongue,
on the taste buds,
and in the brains
of animals like us?

Could taste be
a synesthetic pathway
indiscriminately
crossing boundaries
to reveal higher
order sensations?

I know the tastes
of orange, and blue,
and pain, and joy –
the taste of spring
romance and end –
the nauseous tastes
of hatred and of fear.

We hold memories
of tastes in our minds,
but does the tastebud
itself keep memories?
And preferences?

Late addendum

Sweetness
a warm ocean breeze
the sweat on her forehead
green with brown stripes

Sourness
unripe naval oranges
early morning daybreak
yellow with purple polka dots

Saltiness
dirt from the garden
seaspray over the bow
lemon and garlic and pepper

Bitterness
a pot of dandelion greens
ice cold beer on a hot day
brown and black herringbone

Umami (savory)
bean soup & stewed tomatoes
coffee beans roasting in the oven
underarm sweat without deodorant

#NaPoWriMo – from the archives (previous years on this date)

April 26, 2016

life is so much more like
Parks and Recreation than
Madame Secretary.
So don’t get it twisted
when you pull the curtain.

Poetry is just streaming words –
nothing high brow about it –
painting is lines and shapes
splashed on canvas with a brush –
and dancing is shifting weight
from one foot to the other
in motion across a wooden floor.

If I were a strong wind I’d wrap
all around you – if a river,
I’d rise up to your knees –
if a song, I’d bounce tenderly
against your eardrums, until I
found my way into your inner heart.

More like Parks and Recreation,
less like Madame Secretary,
nothing like The Good Wife.
Life. Don’t get it twisted.

*****************

April 26, 2015

plucking those grey hairs
will not hold back
the inexorable flood of time –

they grow back faster
and longer for a reason.

and we will get older
and more decrepit if we last,
and someday we will die.
these are the facts.

*********************************

April 26, 2014 – An Acrostic poem

From a distant shore I found my Filomena
Intensely I sought her, to woo her, to win
Love’s special gift – we were like hand and glove.
On an Autumn day we shared an afternoon from
Midday to midnight – on a Spring day, duplo
Expresso and macchiato after lunch, all
New adventures we shared without an alibi
And without a second thought on our behalf.

**************************

April 26, 2013 – A triolet

Sem ti, tudo me enoja e me aborrece
sem ti, perpetuamente estou passando,
nas mores alegrias, mor tristeza. – Camoes

I’m not long for this world of woe –
of strife and quarrelsome divide;
so I’ll content myself with poems –
I’m not long for this world of woe.
In time we reap the deeds we sow:
Our words and acts and thoughts collide –
I’m not long for this world of woe –
of strife and quarrelsome divide.

#NaPoWriMo 2017 April 26 – Poem from a future place

April 26, 2017 – Poem from a future place

Assuming their survival, future archivists
and researchers thumbing through old papers
and computer files might wonder why we wrote
these 30 poems in April.

They might think a cult required this practice,
or worse, punishment for a crime committed –
it might appear to be a mild obsession,
on top of other daily things we had to do.

It is an interesting habit we give ourselves
over to, a work, a focus, this daily output
of ruminations and verbal meanderings.
A future reader might wonder what was
its end, its conclusion for our lives.

It’s time to gather thoughts about today’s
submission and how it might look tomorrow,
and what type of trail we are leaving.

#NaPoWriMo 2017 April 25 – Spaces poem

April 25, 2017 – Spaces poem

This might sound disjointed –
I’m writing it while riding on the
Orange Line from Capital South
to Foggy Bottom – you’ve heard it before.

Poetry Magazine arrived today. Yay!
It’s my favorite space and the high
point of my month. This issue even has
several submissions by members
of my particular diaspora group.

I always look for them first. Call me
whatever name you want. Every
broken thing will be fixed, but not
on this go-round. So don’t wait idly for it
to happen, or for any other pipe dream

to come true. Today at the African Art
Museum I stumbled upon a new poet,
Jose Craveirinha, from the time
he spent in prison with Mozambique’s
most prolific artist, Malangatana,
whose biopic I am cataloging.

A prison cell is a tiny space, a type of
heterotopia that distorts and unsettles
other spaces. But brains link together
in all kinds of places to plot a revolution.
In the interim, poetry by my people
is my surest panacea.

#NaPoWriMo 2017 April 24 – Ekphrastic: Medieval Marginalia

April 24, 2017 – Ekphrastic: Medieval Marginalia

Elephant farts and penis fruit on trees,
concentric stacks of human excrement,
all images drawn in margins of ancient tomes.

You might conclude a connection to the text
exists – those endless columns of illegible gothic
Latin font only translatable by the priests

and those who served them directly. The images
in the margins do not illustrate the text, like pictures
in children’s books. That’s not their function.

Rather, they illuminate. Nothing to do with the text,
actually. Coded images of an imagination run amok,
providing a welcome interlude from study,

a break from the monotony of the mundane –
a necessary excursion to a hidden, magic land.

Screen Shot 2017-04-24 at 4.36.49 PM

http://www.realclearlife.com/books/medieval-textbooks-littered-strange-doodles/