You're not poking your head around my door
to tell me to put my books away.
(Please stop me if you've heard this one before.)
I'm not sure I have anything to say.
What can be said, as you're eaten inside?
Disease's sole skill is replay, replay.
All of your pansies and daffodils died.
It's too much to ask us to sustain life.
I'm not quite sure if I have ever cried
over round three of Sir Cancer's skilled strife.
April 2nd- Rubai
Don't Mourn The Cherry-Blossoms
The cherry-blossoms will come back, you know.
What do they exist for, except to grow?
Lips are puckered just for winter kisses.
They part again once the harsh seasons go.
Sentamentalist, draw your eyes from the tree.
Each barren branch does not ask you to be
coiling yourself it around it like a snake,
just to give it something. Can you not see
returning Autumn, laden with each find
collected through travel and open mind?
Don't mourn the blossoms; they're flesh-weak and gone.
Eyes fixed on emptiness are almost blind.
Shoe-Box Fragments
All your shoe-box fragments lie silent now.
I don't feel the need to examine how
you reeled me to whatever I am today;
I've given more time than I can allow.
For months, maybe years, they called out to me:
"Don't forget your demise, dear, can't you see
we'll chip at you 'til you're fit for our box.
You are just what your yesterdays decree."
I burned it, burned it, burned it months ago
while sleep-walking. My child-flames strived to glow
so bright they had to be imaginings,
so free I assumed I was free to go.
April 3rd
Ottave Rima
I Am No Friend Of Flowers
*submitting*
Triangular Turtles
Triangular turtles swim on tear-lakes,
fragmenting my new reflection with ease.
I contain water and turtles, and make
no observation that can fail to please,
too reconstituted for you to take
an aspect of your absent self from me-
triangular turtles are nought if not free.
Last edited by Jasmine Hart on Fri Jun 26, 2009 4:38 pm, edited 3 times in total.
"Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise." -Maya Angelou
Sueee! Yay, love love <3 I'm glad you're doing NaPo =) And much success so far, good going! You're ahead and number three is gorgeous, certainly my favourite. I'm not sure about the first and there are elements of quite a few that could be tidied up but it's going well =)
(Also, I know I'm taking forever with the chapter but uh... I have three and a bit pages now? XD I will finish it!)
Thanks Kit! Lol. No worries. Three pages are better than nothing!
April 4th
Ballad
Pure and Sexless Streets
What pure and sexless streets we walk
In Ireland, fine and green,
Never a held hand or a s.w.a.l.k
is mentioned, much less seen!
Children, of course, are Heaven sent
Once marriage chains fast bind
the wrists of sexless couples meant
to nurture spotless minds.
Chaste citizens, please worry not
when girls' lips fall on boys-
This is the land that sex forgot,
that it will not destroy.
April 5th
Heroic Verse
Worship
A nun just jabbed me in the angel bone,
seeking to shake my hand. I should not moan,
I had avoided mass all of this year,
sure faith is no longer for me to hear
professed by the holy, in Holy Church-
Sure, in the pew, I was left in the lurch.
I waited for his name to be called out
(That's what my presence there was about),
but when it came it was flat and too brief,
carrying none of our family's grief.
I muttered my prayers, no longer a part
of the system I once held in my heart-
it must have been better never to start.
My siblings are silent. Who took their faith?
Yes, my disillusionment arrived late,
but surely prayers should still be on their lips?
Perhaps the unfaith of one always rips
the vestige of faith from those around her.
Truly, I never intended to stir
anyone from prayer after I had gone.
There's nothing here to build my hope upon.
Hours from now, you too will be in mass,
marvelling at how cruel Time deigns to pass.
Memory stops you from visiting now,
too many hours spent wondering how
long our poor county could sustain his life.
Such is the fate of the bereaved young wife.
Last edited by Jasmine Hart on Sat Apr 11, 2009 3:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise." -Maya Angelou
I apologise for this one...I found the form very difficult.
Anacreontics
For Once
For once, the moon does not sneer
as you pull your jacket near,
and reach for my hand, too slow,
clasping it tight as we go
to where troublous winds lie low,
and seas can't part us just yet.
Wine warm, I will not forget
how you reel me into you
and don't cast me back. I knew
(or thought I knew) flesh was weak,
but still I pine, still I seek
in your mouth and shoulder crease
and take my time, take my time.
Moonlight flickers. It will cease
to shine on sweet decadence,
but for now I wed pretence.
I'll smile until blinding light
banishes you from my sight.
April 8th
My Mammy Said
*submitting*
April 10th
Tanaga
Fine Line- Poetry
Such a form! There's a fine line
between saying, when we dine,
your handsomeness is divine,
and I want you skin on mine!
Shakespearean Sonnet
Simple Language
*submitting*
Last edited by Jasmine Hart on Mon Jun 01, 2009 7:24 pm, edited 3 times in total.
"Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise." -Maya Angelou
This is simple amazing, as in the old version of amazing, not in the new hotdogs and red and yellow socks version of the word.
I adore/love Shoe-Box Fragments, I Am No Friend Of Flowers, Triangular Turtles, Pure and Sexless Streets, Worship, and Ode To My Miserable Goldfish.
Also, Simple Language is pure genius--genius! I say. And, what's really strange is understood some of those words in Gaeilge. I blame my mom's obsession with watching TG4 (I swear I just watch it for the hurling) on the interwebz and Irish cooking podcasts.
Ta,
Cal.
Fraser: Stop stealing the blanket. [Diefenbaker whines] Fraser: You're an Arctic Wolf, for God's sake. (Due South)
Hatter: Do I need a reason to help a pretty girl in a very wet dress? (Alice)
Thank you so much Cal! You're very good for my self-esteem!
April 11th
Triolet
One Two Three, One Two Three
One two three, one two three, teach me to move
so you can fold me in Standard Marked Crate.
Which consort of Jupiter dares disapprove?
One two three, one two three, teach me to move,
bend my limbs at will before it's too late
for each of my solid thoughts to ablate.
One two three, one two three, teach me to move
so you can fold me in Standard Marked Crate.
Don't have one for today yet, but will write it later tonight.
Last edited by Jasmine Hart on Fri Jun 26, 2009 4:33 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise." -Maya Angelou
"The sum of the square of the hypothenus...
The processes which form a delta...
A sonnet has just fourteen lines..."
I rattle off, I rattle off,
nothing there to think about,
save how I'll reach my preferred end.
School friendships are the same.
You put in your fixed hours
among the desks and girls and chalk,
and, by the end, you know the rules:
No dating each others' exes,
Sandra is sensitive about her weight,
and when Cathy says "Amn't I right?"
it's best just to smile and nod.
But, outside out pretty, breathless hive,
new structures lie-
and maybe the exes are
the best ones to
our new-probation-friends,
and Sandra really does look fat in that, and should be told
for her own good,
and Cathy is never, never right,
and probationee must
readjust her sight,
and friends forever is not
eveyone's aim.
"Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise." -Maya Angelou
If I get one done tonight, I'll be up to date with this but I'll have to go start my new notebook 'cause it's so much harder to write poetry straight onto the pc....
"Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise." -Maya Angelou
There once was a teacher of math, who, in each spare hour, liked to bath. She rubbed and she scrubbed, then dissolved in the tub, that soluble teacher of math.
Last edited by Jasmine Hart on Mon Nov 15, 2010 1:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise." -Maya Angelou
Swoop, swoop,
come snatch my sandwiches
and shake them 'til
the chicken falls
into the sea,
and you can fly,
caw-cackling with
my whole-grain bread.
Poem 24
Sordid Epiphany
*submitting*
Poem 25
Bitter Wine, Dog Ears
Bitter wine, bitter. Your reflection
is drowning in my glass, and I
can't even see your wine,
but, oh, mine's surfing in my head,
an inky squeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllch,
a purple moon, so sad and soft.
I see the little glance as
I down the last...sixth, maybe
just because. (And no,
it's not as sweet as 7up,
but it still beats
rejection emails,
just ink and dog-ears to me now.
Oh yes! I've spit out hairs all week.
Poem 26
Parasol
I've propped my red parasol up on my chair.
The light laps across it, sweet gold on the black
perhaps-Asian patterns, because now I can
think of you as someone who liked me
and wasn't quite sure as to how I felt,
who knew me not two months
before Christmas came round
and I can wed that to you bus escort, support,
book-sale-scouring buddy,
with your long fingers and
your freckle constellation
and frequent smile...and I
am happy now.
Poem 27
C a p s i z e...
a
p
s
i
z
e...
Where is the equator,
noble line of heat and time?
And if the world flips fast
will we both fall towards the centre
and meet somewhere in the middle?
Last edited by Jasmine Hart on Mon Jun 01, 2009 7:27 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise." -Maya Angelou
