Blogetary (Weblog + Commentary = Blogetary)

Hey! Hey! HEY! It’s arrived!  Presenting the April 2009 issue of Beyond Centauri, which just happens to have a flash fiction (very short short) story of mine in it. In honor of its arrival I am going to have another blog contest. Just leave a comment on this blog by May 15 and on May 16 I’ll check in and draw a name and let you know who has won!

ONE MORE DAY!!!!!!!!! Yay!  I can’t believe this. The 26th was my birthday and one of the things I do on or around my birthday is go through my list of goals and re-assess them. See if I accomplished any, see if I need to redirect some things. One of the goals I had written down from the New Year (the other time of the year I look at my goals) was to work more stringently on my poetry. I had forgotten about that goal. Yet here I am spending a whole month doing just that. That’s pretty cool!

Today’s prompt at Poetic Asides was to title a poem, “Never ______”, fill in the blank and write the poem from there. Below is my attempt:

Never depend on anything — or anyone

My tv gave out today. It’s been going forever.
And ever.
Coffeemaker, clock radio will both soon follow.
I want them to last forever.
I want them to die and make way for new things
I can’t afford.
And just when I can’t afford it
the tv died.

The most dependable friend will have to bow out –
see to themselves
just when you’ve crashed and burned.
So -
So what?
It’s the story.
It’s what makes a good story.
So -
Never depend on anything -
especially the beauty of the rose on a hot summer day.
Just enjoy it while it lasts.

Today was Tuesday, so it was a two-fer on Poetic Asides and it was a doozy. First, write a sestina and then write a poem about a sestina. So, I wrote a sestina (or tried to) and then wrote a sonnet about a sestina (or tried to). And you can tell by both that I hate the sestina form and mostly crashed and burned on it.

Sestina

Night skies in L.A. are not blue -
And good luck seeing the stars.
When the smog is thick and hurts your eyes
and you see a sickly palm,
it’s easy to think you’ll forsake the sun -
leave behind your lifelong day at the beach.

There will never be a beach
that measures up to your dreams; not water blue.
The temperature climbs and you hide from the sun.
Stay up late and watch for the stars
on TV who look like they hold the world in their palms.
Though despised, they are the apple of our collective eye.

The world sees us through their own eyes -
thinks paradise is at the beach.
They aren’t here, don’t see the money palmed
behind closed doors as the corpse turns a paler blue.
The movies in which we all star
are our own delusions under the sun.

But there is nothing new under the sun
or said Solomon, apple of David’s eye.
He searched the heavens for a star -
and at least could see them from Galilee’s beach.
The water then, and sky too, was really blue,
and plants that belonged really meant the palm.

Now mostly through this poem of palms
The night is old and long gone is the sun.
I do not like sestinas – they are not true blue.
And staying up late is hard on my eyes,
and tomorrow I will not go to the beach.
Though I see the Hollywood sign, I will not see a Star.

But I keep working like a poetic star
even though I hate this form – want to slap it with my palm.
I live on the coast and never see the beach.
Constantly wear SPF as protection from the sun.
Put on sunglasses to be cool and protect my eyes.
Some days I yearn for a different shade of blue.

Nearly done, this blue sestina is a star in the sky.
As I eye the clock, pet the kitty with my palm,
And my pen and I hope to be under a palm in the sun.

(Phew – glad that’s done.)

Poem ABOUT a sestina – A sonnet (of sorts)

What is a sestina when it’s at home?
I’ll tell you what it is: Just Stupid Math.
A-B-C-D-E-F/F-A-E – GROAN!
What poetry is wrought from such a path!
More puzzle than express-ed thought and heart-
when poem’s only goal is to match words
in a meaningless patter from the start.
No consideration for the song birds.
A sestina is not like a sonnet,
which sings and flies on winds of feelings true.
A sestina has no thought upon it -
just match the words and switch them off on cue.
Sestinas aren’t fun and have no real truth.
I’ll only write fair sonnets now, forsooth.

I guess I didn’t need poetry made fun for me as I fell in love with AA Milne and Dr. Seuss at an early age and it was all downhill from there. But, there’s an author, Karen Jo Shapiro, who was on NPR this morning and her books sound really fun.

So, she uses classic poems and rewrites them in the same manner (rhythm, etc) but makes them more kid accessible. It’s fun.

Since it’s still, barely, poetry month, thought this would be a cool thing to share.

Today’s prompt on Poetic Asides was to write a poem of longing. So, here’s my try at it:

Longing for loved ones – past and present

I just want them to be happy;
have love in their lives
and be well.

Some days I want it so much,
it hurts. And I pray
to who knows Who
or Whom
they will have these things.

Some I will never see again.
But I hope. I pray. I long for them
to have love.

Today the prompt on Poetic Asides was a miscommunication or misinterpretation of something. Here was my attempt:

Miscommunication/Misinterpretation

The Blank Stare…

I hate it when you give me the blank stare.
Sitting there looking at me as if I didn’t know
what the hell I was talking about.
I’m tired of being a Cassandra all the time.
I know I’m right. I know what I’m saying is true, dammit!
Why can’t you see it?
Why don’t you get it?

Oh. Is that a – a Bluetooth?
Were you on the phone?
Er …

According to Poetic Asides, we have 5 more days! Todays prompt was to write about an event. It could be any event, as long as it was an event. Here’s mine.

Event

A non-event really -
a day like any other.
Each year I think
Maybe not,
well maybe,
but is it really necessary?

I call it the Yellow Season.
The Pink Season.
The Clean-My-Home-Bake-My-Favorite-Cake Season.
My very own holiday.
The Buy-My-Favorite-Flowers-Do-My-Favorite-Things Season.
If I don’t observe it, who else will?

So, the prompt for today on Poetic Asides was traveling. Any kind of traveling as long as there was movement of some sort.

Here’s my attempt:

Traveling

The car sways on the track,
smooth on the rails.
Is the clack only in her imagination?
Ugly back stage props of cities pass by.
She takes a sip of her “medication.”

Her eyes glazing over,
book forgotten on her lap,
she is on her vacation.
Far as she runs, she is never far from herself.
That’s the biggest frustration.

This has been an exercise in creative stamina for me. I’ve enjoyed it, but it’s been a very busy month for me. Some days it’s been really hard to come up with something worth writing about. So, it’s been good for me.

The prompt today from Poetic Asides was on regret.

Regret

Take it back — ?
I wish -
I wish I could.

But I must speak!
I will not –
WILL NOT
be stifled,
gagged,
muzzled.

If you’d let me speak in the first place…
Maybe,
maybe?
I wouldn’t have said
what I did.

But you did.
So –
I did.

And sometimes
I wish -
wish!
I could take it back.

But I don’t.

Today’s prompt from Poetic Asides was work. As in, I didn’t do too much work to throw this one together.

Work

Being an adult is so much work!

Gotta fix my own food.
Clean my own room.
Make my own bed.
Pay my own bills.

Live my own life.

Being an adult rocks!