Ink – a love poem

Murmuration_FINAL

You are blood-ink that spills across my paper,
stains these trembling-too-much fingers,
bruises my swollen lips and tastes like
summer wind, in all those 4:00 a.m. trees.

You first came, book in hand, sipping coffee.
Stories dripped steadily from your chin.
I watched hungrily, as your mouth bled,
gulped the words, like a river bed long-dry.

You’ve been here, spilling stories–
for one-hundred-and-fifty-six days.
I’ll sit beside you fifteen thousand more,
my heart wide — a blackbird’s throat.

I can’t quench my thirst for your words.
They cry in my chest — a winged cacophony.
Ink rages in my veins, and I’ll bleed out fast
— a murmuration, whirling from my pen.

—–

AUDIO FILE:

Tethered – After Rise Against, Satellite (a golden shovel poem)

hawk
I will always be beside you. I’m 
sure you know by now, as the world is passing 
in it’s blur, you will catch me looking over 
at you, smiling to remind you 
that you are my choice– like 
a child chooses the green ball from a
red topped dispenser. — I’ll be your satellite 
spin around in your own space. So 
don’t worry with my need to fly– you won’t catch 
me slipping free of my jesses. You’ll find me 
at the end of these leather leads, and if 
you always want me, I always promise
will dive from the sky — trust you to catch me as I fall. 
———-
POETIC FORM:
golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.
—–
POEM A DAY NOVEMBER 2015 – PROMPT:
For today’s prompt, write an open letter poem.
—–
 AUDIO FILE:

Wildfire — After Christina Perri, Human (a golden shovel poem)

wildfire

The fire is in the chasing, and I’m 
burning to break free. There’s only
one remedy for being this human.
 
The road less traveled is calling and 
the sun is fading, curling at the corners.
long to run through the trees, to bleed 
the sorrow from my bones, to gasp when 
my lungs can’t swallow enough sunlight.
want to run until I find your feet, and fall 
like the last leaf, let the wind carry me down —
 
The fire is in the chasing, and I’m
burning to break free. There’s only 
one remedy for being this human.
 
 
———-

POETIC FORM:

golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.

 

—–

POEM A DAY NOVEMBER 2015 – PROMPT:

For today’s prompt, write an echo poem.
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AUDIO FILE:

Phoenix Reborn — After Electric Light Orchestra, Strange Magic (a golden shovel poem)

phoenix_birth_2

You might not know, I’m watching you 
as you spread your tired wings and fly.
You’ve had it all along, this strength — so 
I’ve been waiting just to see how high 
you’d soar, once you found courage.
knew you’d see it in yourself, you’d get 
the gist. Now I’m watching you with
smile. I can’t help but admire, this strange 
new fire you’ve got in your eyes. It’s magic! 
———-

POETIC FORM:

 

golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.

 —–

POEM A DAY NOVEMBER 2015 – PROMPT:

 

For today’s prompt, write a strange poem.

 

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AUDIO FILE:

Without Relent — After Frank Sinatra, Fly Me to the Moon (a golden shovel poem)

TangoDancersImage11

I will wander, I will fly — 
will plunder your dreams of me.
I’ll wobble and dance, without relent, to
the night music, spent from my veins. The 
silvery light of the fullest moon
(a mirrored lagoon) and 
the velvet midnight sky, (let 
me assure you) will whisper me 
to sweetest of dreams. So, play 
a gypsy lullaby. Lull me to sleep among 
the branches of your arms. The 
light in your eyes will be my stars.
———-

POETIC FORM

golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.

POEM A DAY NOVEMBER 2015 – PROMPT:

For today’s prompt, write a poem using at least three of the following six words: relent, horrendous, artifact, lagoon, wobble, and plunder.

If you want extra credit (and who doesn’t), try using all six!
AUDIO FILE:

 

 

AUDIO

Carry You — After Coldplay, Fix You (a golden shovel poem)

http://www.ryanmcginley.com/new-gallery/77ba04t6zx5blurketbqpdy4v10qli
Photographer – Ryan McGinley, 2010
I know your wild heart — running from city lights.
I’ve heard your howls, and I’m determined, I will 
run beside you. I will trust your instinct to guide 
us. When the chasing steals your sleep, when you 
need my love to find your way, I’ll carry you home 
I’ll hold you — though you bite and struggle, and 
though my bleeding flesh burns with the fire you ignite 
— I’ll lean into you, shoulder your body in spite of your
claws. I’ll lend to you all the strength in my bones.
———-
POETIC FORM
golden shovel – Take a line (or lines) from a poem you like. Use each word as an end word in your poem. Keep the end words in order. Credit the original poet, ie. “-after (poet)”.
 
POEM A DAY NOVEMBER 2015 – PROMPT:
For today’s prompt, write an ekphrastic poem.
AUDIO FILE:

Burned Upon Her Skin

writing

I wrote a poem a few weeks ago, about my girlfriend, and her love of the woods. She and I have been enjoying this brief Autumn season, and escaping to the nearby hiking trails as often as the weather and our schedules allow — sometimes together, sometimes separately, chasing light and shadows, solitude and mental health. I posted more recently about how that is affecting my personal journey, in a post titled “The Way of Beauty”.

I’ve been sharing poetry with this amazing woman since we started dating, two months ago. I’ve introduced her to my favorites, like Tyler Knott GregsonBilly Collins, and Rives. She seems to love my addiction to language, and to not mind that I write poetry about my love for her.

In fact, a little over a week ago, she was planning a trip home to visit family (and her tattoo artist) and asked me how I felt about her incorporating some of my poetry into a tattoo. My immediate response was, “Of course! Once I share my poems, they belong to whoever reads them!”  She didn’t tell me which poem; she wanted to keep that a surprise, so no photos or hints until I picked her up from the airport on Sunday.

She’d been gone for four days, and when I met her in the waiting area just outside the terminal, I was breathless, struck by how amazing she looked in my favorite black shirt and some new plaid suspenders. I couldn’t stop  hugging and kissing her — and more than once I caught random strangers smiling at us.

I didn’t see the tattoo on her arm until she was loading her suitcase into my car, and though I expected to love it, I didn’t anticipate the feelings that washed over me. My throat constricted on the word, “Oh!” and my eyes welled up with tears. My words, spilled for her from my own pen, were etched into her beautiful skin, so she could see them for the rest of her life. I couldn’t stop touching them, tracing the letters with my fingers. I’ve been lucky enough to have my work published before, but I don’t think I will ever feel the way I felt standing there, reading her arm.

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The fantastic thing, is that the words are hers. They belong to her — belong on her body. They fit, and always will. That’s what happens when we send our words out into the world. Those who read them make them their own, bring them to life. They are made richer, deeper, and more breathtaking. It’s a thing that always amazes me about writing poetry. What a wild, wonderful privilege it is to witness!

 

The poem in its entirety, is posted below. I hope you find something in it, gentle reader, that speaks to you, and as always, I thank you for doing your part, reading my words, and making them live.

———-

wolvesrunning

THE WOODS ARE WHERE YOU’VE BEEN

The scent of wind is burned upon your skin —
You’ve run with wolves, while howling at the night,
and I can tell the woods are where you’ve been.

I know the weight of life has worn you thin —
Within your eyes a hunger burns so bright,
The scent of wind is burned upon your skin.

I hear the echoes of your howls again —
I hope that you’ve been strengthened by your flight.
and I can tell the woods are where you’ve been.

You look at me, and my head starts to spin —
I find my thoughts are rude and impolite!
The scent of wind is burned upon your skin.

I can’t control this flood I’m holding in —
I ache to break for you, to scream and fight,
and I can tell the woods are where you’ve been.

The smell of you turns all my flesh to sin —
till every touch becomes a sacred rite,
The scent of wind is burned upon your skin,
and I can tell the woods are where you’ve been.

———-

POETIC FORM:

The villanelle is a French form, consisting of five tercets and a quatrain with line lengths of 8-10 syllables. The first and third lines of the first stanza become refrains that repeat throughout the poem.

FORM DIAGRAM:

A(1)
b
A(2)
a
b
A(1)
a
b
A(2)
a
b
A(1)
a
b
A(2)
a
b
A(1)
A(2)

 

 

When We Met Pluto (a nonet poem)

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I carry a photo of Pluto
tucked away inside my pocket
corners creased, colors fading
it reminds me of you
on the day we met
her, hand in hand
gazing at
the night
sky

POETIC FORM: NONET
a 9-line poem that has 9 syllables in the first line, 8 syllables in the second line, 7 syllables in the third line, and continues to count down to 1 syllable in the final (9th) line.