1/30 04.01.10 - Haiku
memory is bi-
as. only the ones that serve
us well get on stage.
2/30 04.02.10 - 3Haiku-Line
I.
Stories of a heart
in love, unrehearsed but ble-
mished by stars, his eyes.
II.
My heart wishes you.
You in arms. You in kiss. You
in love. You in me.
III.
I miss those nights when
you pretended to not know that
my heart was flirting
IV
With danger, a fool in a backless gown that waits for you to slip it off.
3/30 04.03.10 - Overtime
4AM
My mind is still trying to
wrap around this constant desire to
run my fingers through your heart.
Maybe if I fumble around long enough,
I will find the cord I could pull on ever so
gently until you look down and notice who is
the one willing to hold your heart in their
hands, broken veins, valves and all.
Because it sure isn't her.
I have the stains under
nails and on top of palms to prove it.
4/30 04.04.10 - Haiku
faith resurrects a
few times a year: christmas, ea-
ster, need a favor.
5/30 04.05.10 - Raindrops
I can tell
by the cloudless skies,
the bittersweet smell of
salt against the sway of blossoming
trees and the way
you won't pick up the phone that
it's going to rain tonight.
I can tell.
6/30 04.06.10 - Symmetry
I dream of you while my mind and heart is spinning round your existence, wishing
always time now
day
you the you
during
of you of
of
dream
dreams in you of dream I dream of you late at night
dream
of
of you of
all
you the you
time
any
instantly time constantly
one day, possibly, hopefully, maybe you would, should, & could want to dream of me
8/30 04.08.10 - Haiku
green grass and exquis-
ite corspes flying around:
perfection in motion
9/30 04.09.10 - Short Poem
Dear Christina,
Stop letting the twinges,
shakes and pulls from each
stroke of emotion ebb out of
your pores like faucet not quite close,
left to drip and collect
even without a soul around.
You need to learn how to
keep your big heart shut.
10/30 04.10.10 - Tanku (Tanka-Haiku Fusion)
my darling, i came
to rescue you from the a-
loneness that night throws
at your feet. didn't know you
already had company.
sorry for the in-
trusion. next time, i will not
love ahead of time.
11/30 04.11.10 - Affair (Haiku)
bring me comfort un-
faithful one. give me a sec-
ond of desire
for a lifetime of regret.
12/30 04.12.10 - Retort (Poetic Prose) Response
I had to write a response to a poem for my Poetry class. I am not good at responding to other people's work, but I thought my response was interesting.
Retort
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Thou art a fool," said my head to my heart,
"Indeed, the greatest of fools thou art,
To be led astray by trick of a tress,
By a smiling face or a ribbon smart;"
And my heart was in sore distress.
Then Phyllis came by, and her face was fair,
The light gleamed soft on her raven hair;
And her lips were blooming a rosy red.
Then my heart spoke out with a right bold air:
"Thou art worse than a fool, O head!"
Thou art a fool," said my head to my heart...The heart is a fool indeed. The heart falls so easily. It can be the curve of a smile or the curl of a tempting lock. It can be the timbre of their voice or the melody of their laugh. The heart falls for the idea of a person. But the head, oh dear head. The head gives a name to the idea. The head turns swiftly to the beat of that name. The head blushes when the name says hi. The head smiles when the name gets close. The head loses itself in the name of that name because that name is love. It's spelled in a thousand ways, housed in a million of bodies. But in the end, that's the name of the idea of a person, love. Love could be anybody, anyone. Love can walk into the room or ride away in a subway car. Sometimes, we may not even get the name of its alias. Love lives in every being and the head is waiting to make its own special identification. But the heart is the one who tells the head when love is near. The head only gives a face to the name. The head and the heart are both foolish slaves to love.
13/30 04.13.10 - Short poem (Late)
as you caress my sun,
my nerves turn into fluttering
butterflies, flying up to my
still heart, bursting
into my blood stream
and leaving flaming red
blotches scattered upon my
cheeks...
phone charms will never
look the same.
14/30 04.14.10 - Short poem
I wish I could
scribble smiles into
your eyes.
I'm good at
coloring in love.
15/30 04.15.10 - Lonely Mornings
i hate these
mornings when
you have so much
to say, but no heart
to say it.
i hate these
mornings when
my eyes flutter
open hours
before i'm awake.
i hate these
mornings when
my tummy rumbles
and
my sweetheart grumbles
and
everything crumbles
before
i even got to brush
my teeth.
i hate these
mornings without
your bating
breath next to my
cold cheek, wrapped
around in warmth,
in comfort,
in the making love position.
i hate these
mornings without
you.
memory is bi-
as. only the ones that serve
us well get on stage.
2/30 04.02.10 - 3Haiku-Line
I.
Stories of a heart
in love, unrehearsed but ble-
mished by stars, his eyes.
II.
My heart wishes you.
You in arms. You in kiss. You
in love. You in me.
III.
I miss those nights when
you pretended to not know that
my heart was flirting
IV
With danger, a fool in a backless gown that waits for you to slip it off.
3/30 04.03.10 - Overtime
4AM
My mind is still trying to
wrap around this constant desire to
run my fingers through your heart.
Maybe if I fumble around long enough,
I will find the cord I could pull on ever so
gently until you look down and notice who is
the one willing to hold your heart in their
hands, broken veins, valves and all.
Because it sure isn't her.
I have the stains under
nails and on top of palms to prove it.
4/30 04.04.10 - Haiku
faith resurrects a
few times a year: christmas, ea-
ster, need a favor.
5/30 04.05.10 - Raindrops
I can tell
by the cloudless skies,
the bittersweet smell of
salt against the sway of blossoming
trees and the way
you won't pick up the phone that
it's going to rain tonight.
I can tell.
6/30 04.06.10 - Symmetry
I dream of you while my mind and heart is spinning round your existence, wishing
always time now
day
you the you
during
of you of
of
dream
dreams in you of dream I dream of you late at night
dream
of
of you of
all
you the you
time
any
instantly time constantly
one day, possibly, hopefully, maybe you would, should, & could want to dream of me
8/30 04.08.10 - Haiku
green grass and exquis-
ite corspes flying around:
perfection in motion
9/30 04.09.10 - Short Poem
Dear Christina,
Stop letting the twinges,
shakes and pulls from each
stroke of emotion ebb out of
your pores like faucet not quite close,
left to drip and collect
even without a soul around.
You need to learn how to
keep your big heart shut.
10/30 04.10.10 - Tanku (Tanka-Haiku Fusion)
my darling, i came
to rescue you from the a-
loneness that night throws
at your feet. didn't know you
already had company.
sorry for the in-
trusion. next time, i will not
love ahead of time.
11/30 04.11.10 - Affair (Haiku)
bring me comfort un-
faithful one. give me a sec-
ond of desire
for a lifetime of regret.
12/30 04.12.10 - Retort (Poetic Prose) Response
I had to write a response to a poem for my Poetry class. I am not good at responding to other people's work, but I thought my response was interesting.
Retort
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Thou art a fool," said my head to my heart,
"Indeed, the greatest of fools thou art,
To be led astray by trick of a tress,
By a smiling face or a ribbon smart;"
And my heart was in sore distress.
Then Phyllis came by, and her face was fair,
The light gleamed soft on her raven hair;
And her lips were blooming a rosy red.
Then my heart spoke out with a right bold air:
"Thou art worse than a fool, O head!"
Thou art a fool," said my head to my heart...The heart is a fool indeed. The heart falls so easily. It can be the curve of a smile or the curl of a tempting lock. It can be the timbre of their voice or the melody of their laugh. The heart falls for the idea of a person. But the head, oh dear head. The head gives a name to the idea. The head turns swiftly to the beat of that name. The head blushes when the name says hi. The head smiles when the name gets close. The head loses itself in the name of that name because that name is love. It's spelled in a thousand ways, housed in a million of bodies. But in the end, that's the name of the idea of a person, love. Love could be anybody, anyone. Love can walk into the room or ride away in a subway car. Sometimes, we may not even get the name of its alias. Love lives in every being and the head is waiting to make its own special identification. But the heart is the one who tells the head when love is near. The head only gives a face to the name. The head and the heart are both foolish slaves to love.
13/30 04.13.10 - Short poem (Late)
as you caress my sun,
my nerves turn into fluttering
butterflies, flying up to my
still heart, bursting
into my blood stream
and leaving flaming red
blotches scattered upon my
cheeks...
phone charms will never
look the same.
14/30 04.14.10 - Short poem
I wish I could
scribble smiles into
your eyes.
I'm good at
coloring in love.
15/30 04.15.10 - Lonely Mornings
i hate these
mornings when
you have so much
to say, but no heart
to say it.
i hate these
mornings when
my eyes flutter
open hours
before i'm awake.
i hate these
mornings when
my tummy rumbles
and
my sweetheart grumbles
and
everything crumbles
before
i even got to brush
my teeth.
i hate these
mornings without
your bating
breath next to my
cold cheek, wrapped
around in warmth,
in comfort,
in the making love position.
i hate these
mornings without
you.
17/30 04.17.10 - Heart (Late)
18/30 04.18.10 - Guests (Late)
last night, i wanted to
take your tie and unwrap
you in a room full of mothers
and babies.
i'm in a bit of a hurry
to bring a plus one
or two, three or four
to the next family party.
19/30 04.19.10 - Suspicion
stability is only an illusion
one has until someone doesn't
pick up the phone.
after that, your
insane imagination
goes all over the place.
time to play
detective?
21/30 04.21.10 - Haiku (Late)
your voice, his eyes, your
smile, his quiet, your love
trips me up inside.
22/30 04.22.10 - Earth Day
I watch Mother
Iris scatter her
cigarette ashes on Mother
Earth as she pulls
in the recycling bins.
23/30 04.23.10 - Belly Ache
Congealed lumps of
rainbows riot in my stomach
after a jelly bean binge, reminding
me that life is sweet until you
upset a major branch of the system.
24/30 04.24.10 - Haiku (Late)
I stitch myself clos-
er so when you pull away,
the pain feels the same.
25/30 04.25.10 - Tanka (Late)
if there was a chang-
ing potion i could drink, i
would be her, we would
be happily married with
children, a house, and no me.
last night, i wanted to
take your tie and unwrap
you in a room full of mothers
and babies.
i'm in a bit of a hurry
to bring a plus one
or two, three or four
to the next family party.
19/30 04.19.10 - Suspicion
stability is only an illusion
one has until someone doesn't
pick up the phone.
after that, your
insane imagination
goes all over the place.
time to play
detective?
21/30 04.21.10 - Haiku (Late)
your voice, his eyes, your
smile, his quiet, your love
trips me up inside.
22/30 04.22.10 - Earth Day
I watch Mother
Iris scatter her
cigarette ashes on Mother
Earth as she pulls
in the recycling bins.
23/30 04.23.10 - Belly Ache
Congealed lumps of
rainbows riot in my stomach
after a jelly bean binge, reminding
me that life is sweet until you
upset a major branch of the system.
24/30 04.24.10 - Haiku (Late)
I stitch myself clos-
er so when you pull away,
the pain feels the same.
25/30 04.25.10 - Tanka (Late)
if there was a chang-
ing potion i could drink, i
would be her, we would
be happily married with
children, a house, and no me.
26/30 04.26.10 - Combustible
27/30 04.27.10 - Poesies?nden
"spornen Sie mich mit
Ihren Wörtern und
Zungeliebling an,"
she whispered.
The muse and the
monster want to tango.
28/30 04.28.10 - Dear Puppy Love
To all the boys turned into men who
made a tempest of butterflies riot in my heart,
Thank you
Thank you for teaching me how to
profess, confess, declare, scream
laugh, cry, sing, run
open, close, admit, claim
want, need, lust, hate
pretend, lie, trust, swear
rant and rave love
with grace
Each time brought me
closer to my true
love,
poetry
29/30 - 04.29.10 - Tanka (Plus 1)
the devil eats child-
ren, sunflower seeds and malibu
under dirty sub-
way lights, making us laugh like
stretched t-shirts hanging over
a drunk man's knees.
30/30 - 04.30.10 - Whirlwind Ten
Tomorrow marks ten years of writing poetry. So to end my 30/30, I decided to write 10 poems.
I.
Waiting reminds me of
mother's bedroom window
on 111, looking out for
the (insert that year's color) Ford
Explorer to park
by the building (no parking
meters back then) or whip around
the corner to double park and honk
honk honk for pretty-eyed
butterball with glasses.
Waiting reminds me of
daddy's famous words
"I'll see what I can do"
and the phone wouldn't ring
for hours until time passes
the edges of night
whispering "Tomorrow"
to tear-soaked chubby
cheeks with glasses.
Waiting reminds me of
ex-boyfriend's roaming
hands. "Patience is a
virtue" I used to say to
each pull and tug upon
the buttons of my shirt
and jeans unwilling to
budge. He slipped his love
off my heart when his
virtue could not stay
in his pants.
Which is why I
don't wait for men
anymore.
II.
Problem with keeping
Mind in sync with heart without
Screaming hormones song
III.
Blue heart
Lusts for an
Extra
Set of eyes
Soaring above this
Ingenious creation.
Now staring into the eyes of
God.
IV.
we climb, we collide
we cry, we complain, we con-
trol, we cope, we cleanse.
V.
i
always fear
that i don't
know how to write
you anymore. need refresher course.
VI.
give them baskets. hell's already here.
VII.
I gave up
music studios
for Whitman, Walters, and a Bachelors
from Brooklyn.
VIII.
phone stays dark, silent
and full of messages, not
from you, about you.
IX.
porn is the art of constant
lust, with a high demand
for contortionist moves and
exhibitionist tendencies.
X.
This is a poem
about a poem
based on a poem
by a poet who
hates poetry.
"spornen Sie mich mit
Ihren Wörtern und
Zungeliebling an,"
she whispered.
The muse and the
monster want to tango.
28/30 04.28.10 - Dear Puppy Love
To all the boys turned into men who
made a tempest of butterflies riot in my heart,
Thank you
Thank you for teaching me how to
profess, confess, declare, scream
laugh, cry, sing, run
open, close, admit, claim
want, need, lust, hate
pretend, lie, trust, swear
rant and rave love
with grace
Each time brought me
closer to my true
love,
poetry
29/30 - 04.29.10 - Tanka (Plus 1)
the devil eats child-
ren, sunflower seeds and malibu
under dirty sub-
way lights, making us laugh like
stretched t-shirts hanging over
a drunk man's knees.
30/30 - 04.30.10 - Whirlwind Ten
Tomorrow marks ten years of writing poetry. So to end my 30/30, I decided to write 10 poems.
I.
Waiting reminds me of
mother's bedroom window
on 111, looking out for
the (insert that year's color) Ford
Explorer to park
by the building (no parking
meters back then) or whip around
the corner to double park and honk
honk honk for pretty-eyed
butterball with glasses.
Waiting reminds me of
daddy's famous words
"I'll see what I can do"
and the phone wouldn't ring
for hours until time passes
the edges of night
whispering "Tomorrow"
to tear-soaked chubby
cheeks with glasses.
Waiting reminds me of
ex-boyfriend's roaming
hands. "Patience is a
virtue" I used to say to
each pull and tug upon
the buttons of my shirt
and jeans unwilling to
budge. He slipped his love
off my heart when his
virtue could not stay
in his pants.
Which is why I
don't wait for men
anymore.
II.
Problem with keeping
Mind in sync with heart without
Screaming hormones song
III.
Blue heart
Lusts for an
Extra
Set of eyes
Soaring above this
Ingenious creation.
Now staring into the eyes of
God.
IV.
we climb, we collide
we cry, we complain, we con-
trol, we cope, we cleanse.
V.
i
always fear
that i don't
know how to write
you anymore. need refresher course.
VI.
give them baskets. hell's already here.
VII.
I gave up
music studios
for Whitman, Walters, and a Bachelors
from Brooklyn.
VIII.
phone stays dark, silent
and full of messages, not
from you, about you.
IX.
porn is the art of constant
lust, with a high demand
for contortionist moves and
exhibitionist tendencies.
X.
This is a poem
about a poem
based on a poem
by a poet who
hates poetry.
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