September 9, 2009

And there they sat,
some agreed and some did not.
All taught as youth,
the tenants of democracy.
Respect the office
if not the man.

One voice spoke to all
until the word was harshly flung.
Liar! then gasps within the pause.
Heads turned to find the voice
whose tongue had struck,
lashed civility at its whipping post.

That word’s echo
replays throughout the land.
The fabric of decorum
a scrim forever rent,
as thread by shred
our dignity is torn.

U.S. President Barack Obama Visits Connecticut Town Where Massacre Still Fresh

Written in respons to a MOOC University of Iowa Writer’s Workshop assignment.
Explanation:  On September 9, 2009, President Obama was addressing Congress when South Carolina Representative Joe Wilson interrupted him by shouting “Liar!” There were audible gasps and stares. It was unprecedented for a president addressing Congress to be heckled. Representative Wilson later apologized and was formally rebuked by Congress. Some critics believe this was a watershed moment in the behavior of politicians. Somehow, I’ve always connected this event to the refrain in the song American Pie, “…the day the music died.”  In my mind, this was the day decorum died. 

Joie de Vivre

Effervescent, she shook up life
until it bubbled delicious.
Wore glitter star barrettes
high-kicking through life
like a sequined Rockette.

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Bjorn is tending the bar today at dVerse and asks us to write a Twitter poem:
exactly 140 characters. A character is defined as a letter, space, hyphen, or punctuation mark.
Yep, that’s me. About 10 years ago, celebrating with the Boston Pops on the 4th of July on the esplanade. This shot made the jumbotron that night! I always wanted to be a 
Rockette! 🙂

 

I am cold

Ice cube pressed to lips,
nostrils flare at exhales
as shoulders heave.

Ignore the oppressive humidity.
Ignore salt tears and warm blood.

Let ice cold droplets dilute the red,
drip to chin, to chest
stain rug.

He seemed different,
until he did not.

Studio shooting - copyspace

Walt is tending bar today, this third day of dVerse’s fifth anniversary. He asks us to write a poem that reacts to this quotation by Sebastian Barry from his novel A Long, Long Way:  “I am cold, even though the heat of early summer is adequate. I am cold becasue I cannot find my heart.”

Urban Scene

jazz in the city
cello, saxophone, paper cone
playin’ for tips and the city dawgs

makin’ music
strummin’, blowin’, puffin’ too
flyin’ high with life

city nomad, gigs of the soul

claudia-music-2

WONDERFUL art by Claudia Schoenfeld, also one of the founders of dVerse, a poets’ pub. Could not resist writing a second sevenling to conincide with this great piece of art, Urbanity. A sevenling is composed of two tercets and one final line — and includes somehow an element of three in each of the tercets. 

Drum me a Sevenling

Swing it, oh jazz man!
Brush me lazy eights. Swish-arc-swirl, swish-arc-swirl.
Tap-atink rim shots, bass-drum-thuds.

Stick it LOUD, oh ROCK man!
KaBAM a-BANG-BAM. CRASH cymbal SPLASH.
PUMP WHOLE FOOT PEDAL. BASS DRUM BOOMS.

Soothe me melancholy, then BAM ME A BEAT.

psychedelic-drums-eduardo-tavares

To be read aloud. Try it!
Written for dVerse, a poet’s virtual pub, where Grace is tending bar and asks us to write a sevenling related to music. A sevenling is two tercets and a final single line – each tercet includes an element of three — here the sounds of a drummer. Celebrating the 5th anniversary of dVerse with a wonderful interview with Claudia, one of the founders and, I might add, painter extraordinaire!  Painting credit: Psychedelic Drummer by Eduardo Tavares. 

Memoriam

Did you hear the winds rustle that day?
Metaphors soared on the backs of gulls.
Thousands of unused words,
ideas not yet writ,
wended their way into the night sky.
A poet’s earth journey complete,
she lives now, forever beautiful,
among the shimmering stars.

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Quadrille (44 words) written for dVerse as Grace asks us to use the word “journey.” dVerse is celebrating its fifth anniversary this week. Link up to join in the celebration!
Written in memory of poet Viv Blake who died suddenly on July 5, 2016. Photo taken while in Portland, Maine this past June.

i am…a frog?

like a pollywog
but continual
constant metamorphosis
life’s playpen journey
never habitual
every step negates that

sister, wife, mother,
teacher, painter, dancer,
sometime-poet

daughter
daughter is missing
from the list

pollywog always
pollyanna mostly
metamorphopolly
named wrong
should be polly
could be…

because
i am…
we are…
you are…
a becomer

frog-shadow-1360285

photo credit: Hyunhee Park