Poetry Be Like...



Poetry be like...


crumpled paper and broken pencils at 2am

sharp daggers of empty stabbing a wounded soul

stanzas scraping against the roof of memories

the space between imagination and the inevitable

a burning heart whose embers scorch throat and tongue

everything I need to say but won't

the inside of my grandma's steamer trunk

the sound of a growing oak tree

creaks and pops from old vinyl records

erect nipples

hands speaking to a soft belly

stretch marks on curves that eat moonlight

a baby's first grasp at its parent's finger

a death row inmate's last meal

the ghost of lynched bodies

Shaft on 125th street

velvet paintings of cordova love

nag champa incenses

toes licking foreign soil

sunrises on unfamiliar sand

broken book pages

the sky

God.




© 2014 abruvanamedsly





Poetry Alone

SONNET: Love Notes


Their relationship was romantic rage,
his punches love notes to her face;
blood, the ink dripping from the page,
lines she wish she could secretly erase.


Cursive and italics all over her body,
ribs usually highlighted in bold font;
friends and family inquire like literati,
her answers are always nonchalant.


He constantly begs for her forgiveness,
making the notes sting a little less,
explosive scribblings a painful business,
especially on the inside of her chest.


Tears stain jottings current and past,
wondering which note will be his last.




© 2014 abruvanamedsly

 


Hand




What I Am

Yesterday at a writing workshop some fellow poets and myself were given a prompt asking us to write a piece beginning each line with I am...I've done it before but it's still good practice...


I am sleepy

I am steadfast

I am (a)studious

I am a bad speller

I am late nights and early mornings

I am insomnia's whore

I am promiscuous

I am lying

I am concrete and silk

I am rainwater

I am son of djembe and cousin to lighting

I am antiquated stardust

I am a searcher

I am spinning wheels

I am stuck

I am broken trajectory

I am talking mud

I am concealed brilliance

I am a placeholder for bullet fragments

I am a target

I am hated

I am loved

I am envied

I am the future.



© 2014 abruvanamedsly



Fin Redux (30/30)

The final prompt for NaPoWriMo was to write a poem of farewell...I'm not good at goodbyes, so I kinda turned this poem into an continuation piece...




a month of writing

decays into yesterday;

the lifetime continues.






© 2014 abruvanamedsly



Decay


April Rain (29/30)

The prompt for day 29 over at NaPoWriMo was to take the elements of Twenty Little Poetry Projects and attempt to use them all in one piece...this is what I came up with...




hump day tsunami

tap dances on life like eggshells on ants

shaky eyes lick the wet wind

as if squall was kool-aid

North Capitol street becomes

a sad night during the day

which gets me guh;

was it raining because she was crying?

maybe brightness will return tomorrow

we gonna learn today

why curved thunder breaks spirits

muddying warm woolgathering

Junebugs love to be in these moments

building dry bridges

out of trash and resolve

weeping clouds hum

azul es el color del rojo cielo

sunlight attends an all day movie festival

feet pirouette in a flooded ballet

monsoon washes away sins and monkeys.







© 2014 abruvanamedsly



Rain

The Call (28/30)

The prompt for day 28 over at NaPoWriMo was to find a news article and write a poem using mostly, if not only words from the article. Since it being National Poetry Month and all, this article from The New York Times seemed to suffice...








poetry month asked

the city about syllables;

strangers provided

haiku




© 2014 abruvanamedsly

Aftermath (27/30)

The prompt for day 27 over at NaPoWriMo was to write an ekphrastic poem. This is the image I chose to write to...




Snow





alabaster effulgence

blankets everything in sight;

sidewalks and roads become

an elegant tragedy




© 2014 abruvanamedsly

Saddening (26/30)

I skipped the NaPoWriMo prompt for day 26 to watch the movie Her...after I finished viewing it, was inspired to write this...



you lie under my skin
taking up the space between
muscle and tomorrow

every breath wrapped
around every word you
use to say

I speak in memories
searching for a new tongue
that will never come

I live in nothing
and have become
used to this place





© 2014 abruvanamedsly

Ghost In The Machine

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