Poem For Ari

This is how you thought they'd learn -
by being drawn and quartered,
humiliated, abandoned, set in stone.
But before the lesson's end,
before you grinned and walked away,
you should have turned your head
and taken one long and lasting look
into the lion's eyes. You would have
seen how still they shone.

Introducing "Ari"

Meet Ari!! Ari is Hebrew for "lion" and this particular lion named Ari happens to be a "Shameless Lion" and by virtue of my adopting him, this blog is now a member of The Shameless Lions Writing Circle.

He still needs a poem, though. And I'm still working on it.

Tomorrow, the poem will be here tomorrow.

I Tell Myself

I Tell Myself

(for Patti)

I cannot bear to talk of how you died
by your own hand. I cannot bring myself
to cry in front of anyone. My pain is shame;
my grief is guilt; there is no way to blame
this loss on God or fate - and so, each time
I'm asked, I lie. I say that I've survived
your death and life goes on and nothing's changed
except you're gone. I do not speak of things
unspeakable - I mutter platitudes.

I keep the circumstances of your death
tucked hidden with your note. I lick the blood-
stained envelope to seal away the pain.
I tell myself repeatedly that guns
and ropes and razor blades are just the same
as unchecked cancer cells and others die
in self-same ways a hundred times a day.

I cope. (I do not cope.) I comprehend.
(I will not ever comprehend.) I cry.
(I'll never cry again.) And when I'm asked
if I am on the mend, I tell the truth.

(I lie.)

Two New Poems in PoetryRevolt

I've just gotten confirmation from Dr. Maryke Cramerus, the editor of The Poetry Revolt that she's accepted two recently written poems of mine for the next issue of, well duh, The Poetry Revolt, of course.

It's been a long time since I've submitted anything anywhere - and an even longer time since I've had a acceptance.

Very nice magazine, very nice editor. She was very enthusiastic and positive about the poems and she very tactfully suggested some painless changes which turned out to be real improvements. It's really hard for me, as an author, to accept ( much less acknowledge) requested changes but I did want to call attention to the fact that here's one editor who really knows her "stuff" and who knows how to approach even tempermental and opinionated old hags like myself.

Anyhow, I've made the changes and the poems (Shooting Ducks and For Elizabeth)are on their way to publication.

Feels good. Looks like hard work is worth something.

Smells like vindication!!

How Revisions Work (Or Don't)

Generally when I post a poem here it's pretty new....and hence, it's pretty rough. As the days go by, I make revisions - and more revisions - and still more revisions. Up until now, I've simply erased each version and posted the newer one so that no one would ever really know I'd made changes. Unless they had memorized a line or two and I sincerely doubt that anyone's gone that far.

This time I've decided to post each revision as it happens - while leaving the previous one posted below. My own little "workshop" so to speak. None of my changes are ever big ones - usually a word here or a word there - or some meter-fixing and rhyme adjusting. It might be interesting (even for me, since I never revise except to change the original on the computer and I never save an earlier version) to watch a poem evolve.

And so - here goes.


Suicide
revision #1

So shall I choose to die as young men die -
inside the car when death meets dash and grins
his rictus grin - or crouched in sand too far
from home, aware too late that no one wins;
Or here, where bullets know my name and why
I've come - and for one brief and brilliant flash
I'll be the star that lights the city sky?

Or shall I choose to live as old men live -
with palsied limbs and shuffling gait - with eyes
grown dim and ears grown deaf - my mind a sieve
that cannot hold unto the truths or lies
which I held dear no matter how I try;
With tired heart and sagging flesh no cash
or costly drug will heal or help disguise?

I fear free will is nought but final ruse.
There is no choice save this; And thus I choose.
_________________________________________________________

Ill Fated
Original version

So shall I choose to die as young men die -
inside the car when death meets dash and grins
his rictus grin - or crouched in sand too far
from home and suddenly aware that no one wins -
or on a street where bullets know my name and why
I'm there and for one brief and brilliant flash
I'll be the only star that lights the city sky?

Or shall I choose to live as old man live -
with palsied limbs and shuffing gait - with eyes
grown dim and ears grown deaf - my mind a sieve
that cannot hold unto the truths or lies
which I've held dear no matter how I try and try -
With skipping heart and stiffened lungs
that costly drugs can not quite manage to disguise?

Perhaps free will is just the final ruse.
There is no choice. I shall not choose.

David Graham's Poetic Library

I've discovered an excellent new (to me, anyhow) resource for poets and those poetically inclined/interested.

It's called David Graham's Poetry Library and it's designed and maintained by, of course, none other than David Graham. (Go figure!!)

Anyhow, it's a must-check-out for anyone with even a teaspoon of interest in poetry.

So what are you waiting for? Go!! Check it out!!

NOW!!!

Deaths, Disappearances, Duct Tape and Diapers

Stories like these just ruin my weekend.

Baby Microwaved or The Devil Made Me Do It

Baby Dies After Having Mouth Taped For Talking During Nap Time

4 Year Old Missing After Being Left In Hotel Room While Parents Are At Dinner

Ack, yanno? So sad, so unnecessary. It's harder to adopt a kitten than it is to assume responsibility for a child. Parenting/babysitting isn't all that easy - but it shouldn't be this difficult, either.

Must See!!

So much better than poetry.....



With thanks to Kristy for the link.

Leaving Eratosphere Behind

Well, I've done it now. I've gone and quit the ole workshop.

And it feels right - it feels good.

Workshopping can be a very valuable tool in the right hands and at one time I learned much at Eratosphere - but that time is gone and those days are past and the current state of affairs leaves much to be desired in that particular place.

I hope for those remaining that the problems there are resolved quickly. I'm just not sticking around to the bitter end even though the end is probably not very far off.

Sometimes the center really cannot hold.

post removed

Sorry 'bout that....Poems don't stay up. Poems get taken down or fall apart or lay around, but they don't stay up.

Mo' Boards

It's May and Poetry Boards are springing up like Hydra's head!!


Dr. WhupAss's Bitch Ass Poetry Round-Up is not limited to poetry and, much like Eratosphere, it has a double function and duel boards which encourage free speech as well as free verse.


There's a rather lively discussion about what constitutes a
Real Poet going on over at Eratosphere. I'm afraid I lost my temper once again.

And finally, for the eyeroll factor alone, I am including the story of The Judge Who Lost His Pants and Wants To Sue the Cleaners For $65 MILLION Dollars. Only in DC, yanno?

God, I miss Indiana!!!

Deamons

Note to Anon

It's a shame that such well thought-out and worded posts can't (or won't) be posted here. There is, of course, a part of me which would like nothing better than to post the comments I've recently received. But the better part of valor is always discretion - as I assume you are all aware - since your refusal to comment under your own names while being perfectly willing to allow others (such as myself) to take the heat for broadcasting your ideas and opinions speaks volumes of your own courage and your own fears.

This is not to say that I disagree with them - or with your rights to vocalize them. Just not in my playground and just not under the broad cloak of "anonymous."

I would, of course, appreciate being able to correspond with you guys since apparently we share many of the same views even if we don't agree on how and/or where to best express them. These one-sided conversations leave me feeling just a bit out-of-sorts and irritated. How can I respond to your charges if I don't know who or where you are?

Besides, if you're truly serious, how on earth do you expect that the "problem" can be addressed if we all choose to remain anonymous? There's strength (and safety, if any one's afraid) in numbers, yanno?

As for me, I walk the narrow line because it seems the kindest and wisest thing to do.

Convince me otherwise.

Comment Moderation

At least for a while the comment moderation feature is going to be turned on.

I'm a big believer in free speech - I'm just not a big believer in cheap speech.

"Poet and Critic"

Allright! A new workshopping board for metrical poets!!!

Not only that - but a new workshopping board for metrical poets who don't feel like wading through tons of personality crap and bullshit cliques to get there.

One with the focus on poetry rather than on popularity.

What more can a misfit metricist like myself ask for?

Poet and Critic

Wish-Fullfillment

Today at five o'clock I shall fullfill one of my lifelong dreams. Yes, you guessed it, we are getting a dorm sized refrigerator for the bedroom.

Ahhh....bliss.

All I need now is a microwave and hotplate and I'll never have to get out of bed again.

Damn Near A Sonnet....Rocky Scan

Rahula

Come sit, Oh fat and Buddha-bellied cat
who thinks he’s kin to humankind. Reach up
and touch your paw against my face before
you climb into my lap. Turn once, then turn
again and find a place of joy. Stretch each
small claw - first sheathed and then unsheathed and knead
and purr and knead and kneed until your heart’s content.
We’ll sit together, you and I, and rock and reminisce
on lives once lived and loves once lost,
while safe within the fireplace, the dying embers die.

You’ll recollect an alley draped in dark,
and I, a house too cold and damp. Your mother’s
milk was all you knew - and I, those children,
soft and warm, small hands against my face.

Well Worth Reading.....Jehanne Dubrow

I don't often find "contemporary poets" that I'm willing to recommend - but Jehanne is different. She's really good. I don't know her, but I wish I did.

Follow the poetry links, please:

Notes from the Gefilte Review

Heard On CNN This Morning

Deidre Imus - "You must stop sending hate mail to these women. If you must send hate mail, send it to my husband."

Go, Dedrie!!!

The Decider Decides.....

for the 171st time!!!!