I’m Back!

June 21, 2012 Leave a comment

Wow, it’s been a really long time since I’ve posted here. Sorry, everyone, life sort of got in the way of my plans as it tends to. I’ve still been writing occasionally, but not nearly as consistently as I would have liked. Here’s a little poem I wrote. It’s kind of cheesy, but bear with me.

Absence
what is
love, that lilting bounce
in your stomach,
the smile that borders upon
insanity when i see your face
in my mind’s eye,
that loneliness when
you are far from me?

Categories: poetry

Afternoon Commute

April 10, 2012 Leave a comment

Afternoon Commute
perfectly aligned rows
vineyards, no doubt family
owned, speckle the countryside,
barren spaces on this dismal April
afternoon, otherwise littered with
green bushes and sparsely leafed trees,
each with their own tint of green.
some yellowish and others deep and foresty,
the occasional brown or red peaking
through, visible from the train
and look, look there at the mossy
patches with their stone backdrop.
prochain arrêt
       Langon
the train announces mechanically,
as if almost
hesitating before deciding it is
        indeed
the proper station.
the train pulls in,
rain drizzling calmly on its head,
and stops gently in the station,
its blue staircases and beige stone buildings
quiet distractions from the nature we’ve only just
left, full of its mossy greens and
wispy lavenders.

Categories: napowrimo, poetry

Rêverie

April 9, 2012 Leave a comment

Rêverie
last night
between the synthetic comforter
and the cheap, cotton sheets
i saw days past long ago
and days yet to come even
days never to come,
my beating red pump
still moving, righteously—

o sweetness
is my omnidirectional
antenna?—or love, even?
the absurd fantasy,
the lifeblood wherefore we endure
and wherein we abide—
o sweetness
my beating red pump,
the ventricles all glistening
are you quiet or
nonexistent?
henceforth lurid, lugubrious
lizardly—
and yet wherein we find hope
or is that love? we found love in
a hopeless place, as if out of despair
should come that whereof
all desire? is desire all the more
succulent if it out of desire arises?

last night between the synthetic comforter
and the cheap, cotton sheets
i saw days past long ago
and days yet to come even
days never to come,
my beating red pump
still moving, righteously—

and still i was alone.

Categories: napowrimo, poetry

Sunday

April 8, 2012 Leave a comment

Today’s poem comes from the NaPoWriMo prompt of the day to write a poem where everything is a certain color or where one color predominates.

Sunday

green cells,
chlorophylls filling my stomach;
as if this sustenance were as green as
my soul.

green is envy, or so i am
told, but i think green is
selfish, perhaps envy is found therein,
and i couldn’t help but notice your
green eyes with your green
stripes, the kind which you only notice
because you’ve green eyes.
i feel greenly ridiculous,
standing here my hands green with
regret and softly i pray you,
“what is green if not the black crux
wherein souls speak?”
and you tell me,
“i am not green if you are
only sleeping and we are furiously
flying forward and freedom finds itself
forlorn and green!”
it’s sunday and sunday is
only green when you close your eyes
but this is particular insomuch as you
have so long your eyes kept
closed and forever they will
be covered with the green cellophane,
you will be hued and slighted,
envied and envious!
whereas the wherewithal
and nothing-feelingness
define sordid strangeness.

my stomach is green and
gangrenous are my
heart and lungs,
i inhale the fresh chlorophyll of day,
that six a.m. vernal air,
and i breathe in nothing but green;
what isn’t green if it isn’t
black and hollow?

Categories: napowrimo, poetry

Parenthesis

April 7, 2012 Leave a comment

Parenthesis
and what is it, you might ask,
if it is more than what it seems
but less than what it is?
muses, softly and sweetly,
the hair brushed back and yet
emptiness is at the crux of your being,
similarly sordid, strikingly selfish
and silently scaling symphonies,
show me, if you will,
the sickly ego from
which you might produce the aforementioned
sighs, those eternal scraps,
mere semicolons in such an otherwise
epic journey.
open your eyes
for at present you will see nothing.

Categories: napowrimo, poetry

Day Five

April 6, 2012 Leave a comment

Today, I wrote a tanka in French. I have attempted to translate it into English while preserving the syllable structure, but I’m not convinced I like the result.

Printemps
le ciel bleunoirâtre,
nous avons envie de durer
là aux terres lointaines,
sur le grand sol effleuri,
ne perdant pas ce printemps.

Springtime
the blue-blackish sky,
we want to stay and endure
there in remote lands,
on the great flourishing ground,
not forgetting this springtime.

Categories: french, napowrimo, poetry

Day Four

April 6, 2012 Leave a comment

Well, here’s “day four.” It’s not really day four for me, but since I got a late start, I figured I’d make up for lost time and write a few extra poems. These were actually written on April 4, however. The first is another tanka, and the second is a poem I wrote in Occitan, one of the regional languages spoken in Southern France, which I have been learning for a little while. Occitan is also the language of the Troubadours; Dante even considered writing his Divine Comedy in the Provençal dialect of Occitan. In particular, I tried to use the Gascon dialect, since that is the one spoken around Bordeaux and La Réole where I live and work, despite mostly learning Lengadocian. I likely have some grammar and vocabulary mistakes, but I just love the sound of the language and I think it’s important to promote it since it is not such a good situation politically and is actually in danger of completely dying out. I’ve included a translation in English.

Paysage
farms tickle these lands
far and wide. with arriving:
leaving nacre peaks,
red roofs livid with hist’ry;
what is land without verdure?

Adiu
la verdura que s’apinhela
dens lo país de sòm
e trabalh manuau,
ei la Gasconha abdurada,
dab las sieunas vilas perdudas per lo mondialejament,
per la França.
qu’ei ua meravilha deu país,
lo paisatge que m’agrada hèra,
que me replena lo còr de jòia
e de plaser. qu’ei ua doçor dolentosa:
començam ua vita navèra tà
dire adiu e bonjorn.

Hello, Goodbye
the verdure that grows
in the land of sleep
and manual labor,
this is the tough, hardened Gascony,
with its villages forgotten by globalization,
by France.
it is one of the country’s marvels,
the landscape that I love so much,
that fills my heart with joy
and of pleasure. it is a sad sweetness:
we are starting a new life by
saying hello, goodbye and good day.

Categories: napowrimo, occitan, poetry
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.