This week's theme: What are you doing New Year's Eve.
Thanks to all who have generously offered your poetry.
#61: New Year's Resolutions: Honey, I promise to change my lowdown ways
#62: Cartwheel-Challenged Poets
I've been holding onto poems for the right time to squeeze them in. Hey, I can run them now!
They have absolutely nothing to do with this week's theme. Well, except the last poem.
1. Rob Siciliano of Toronto has spent some time in Brazil this year. Here's an upbeat poem in English/Portuguese
I fell into the rhythm and never turned back
Stepped into this circle and never got out
IT CAME, a flood in my blood infused in my veins
This earthquake sent me in a daze
These people and their beautiful ways
Their passion for life
Twenty, thirty irrepressible hearts and minds set on one thing
Living and breathing and beating
Spitting fire down on us was the sun
We were hitting the drums
In this possessed body a clock
A pulse that never stops
Still it goes even in my sleep
When I'm washing the dishes
Singing and walking the streets
This perpetual samba.
Caiu dentro o ritmo e nao saiu
Entrei nesta roda e jamais deixei
Chegou, entrou no sangue como uma ribeira
Gente boa e as suas lindas maneiras
Este terremoto umano
Vente, trente coracoes e mentes irrepressiveis, obstinados
Vivendo, respirando, batendo, tocando
O sol cuspindo fogo em cima de nos
No meu corpo trasformado possuido
Agora dentro de mim e nao acaba
E continua no meu sonho
Tambem lavando os pratos e andando
Cantando, caminhando nas ruas
Este samba perpetual.
2. The next little beauty is from Geoff Beardsley, a/k/a Rev. Wyrdsli. Not his usual...
YOUNG MEN - LOVE THE GIRLS
Women are held back by biology,
their bodies tend to be smaller, weaker and vulnerable
Women are held back by tradition,
it's a relatively new idea that they're not property.
Young men, love the girls.
I don't mean just tell them you love them so they'll
strip and lie down to give of their bodies to you.
And don't tell them that they'll do it if they love you,
you wouldn't do that if you really love them.
And there will be time enough for that later,
when you know the time is right for it's own sake
and not for conquest.
I mean love them. Look inside and see their beauty -
even if they hide it,
even if you can't see your own,
See their beauty and reflect it back to them.
Tell them that they're good and lovely and
deserve to be treated well,
and then treat them well.
When they cry, don't run in fear of emotion's intensity.
Hold them and let them cry. Let their tears soak your shirt
for there is no purer baptism.
When they raise their voices in anger, do not respond in kind.
Put Satan behind you and look again for the beauty
and speak to that.
Young men, love the girls.
Because love conquers all.
Because love bears healing in it's wings.
Because love makes the world go round.
Because love is the Alpha and Omega.
Because love is reflected in love,
and beauty answers beauty.
- Rev. Wyrdsli
3. Alice Pero is past producer of Hollywood's Celebrity Centre Poetry Live Show.
Random messages float in the air
like dogs making slurping noises
waiting for their masters
and we strain to hear
Some smell like bothered skunks and
we avoid them, close our car windows
A woodpecker calls to us from his rotten tree
The bullfrog has plenty to say
The poky donkey makes us pull him along
Old people take notes to remember and
repeat questions over and over
Who finds these poems and writes them down?
Or over there
as the Great Blue Heron takes flight
from one tree to the next
warning the woman in the canoe
of a coming message
she would have to snatch from the sky
Perfectly formed, like his wings
spread in a whoosh, flying soundlessly
the poem is looking for its landing place
under that turtle's furtive head
darting back into the water
What should be said?
Here or there or anywhere?
A small impression formed from dew
on early morning grass, a plop the cat left
a hundred different insects
the fox on the hill
or maybe just the thought of you
A rumbling starting in my head
a trembling hand
a motion to retrieve this song
before the sound is lost
an excited jitter, a flutter of joy
as the mind takes hold
Of what can't be held or
A spider's work is easier to keep
her threads more taut
than this fleeting moment
that can't be found in a photograph
But can be seen in invisible ink
or in the pounding rain
You cannot hesitate or it is lost
It has no cost but fuels my heart
An endless source that disappears
and comes again with simple thought
4. From Steve Norwood of Lewisville, Texas, a poem about the “L” word
what I wrote and what I meant
storm clouds that break apart
like pages of rhyme
torn by disquieted lovers
…god that sound refreshes me;
thinking on how to attain
with my words,
and the line will lodge itself
in my brain with the
precision and attentiveness
of angels playing william tell
with cupid's least-tarnished
raindrops that cling to
like slender fingers
caught in the baling wire
of my scars
…sometimes the captions in my
mind's eye cinematheque
dissolve from the screen
and I am left with vague,
avant-garde images of
rude color and shape
that are not easily translatable
and leave me
a nimble brushfire in my heart
that ravages sublimely,
wanting merely to consume
both the brand
and the flesh
…and it does:
I set aside pen and ink and
write within her form,
no subversive pillow book
but a grand, eloquent love poem
that began when eyes met
and will end when
all things end…
I love you.
5. And finally, in keeping with the theme, my poem. Every word is true.
Honey, remember that New Year's Eve
we jetted out to Southern California
and everything that could, went wrong?
First, Continental lost the luggage.
With taffy stretch of imagination
I could understand why baggage
tagged for L.A.X. went to D.C. National.
Sorry I embarrassed you exercising
my extensive expletive vocabulary.
I was demanding, inconsiderate.
Expected commercial airline handlers to be literate.
Every place we drove in L.A.was three miles/three hours away.
Got lost on Ridley Scott's Bladerunner version of Sunset Boulevard.
Fine accommodations at Westwood hotel but it was no coincidence
the only cable TV channel ran 24 hour back-to-back marathon
episodes of Twilight Zone.
My heart was set on wearing that burgundy velvet evening dress
with antique cherry amber necklace you gave me for our anniversary.
That taxi driver who backed into the rental car did us a favor.
Delayed to make our statements for the accident report
we intercepted the airport shuttle delivering our luggage
and changed out of coffee-stained blue jeans
for Gala New Year's Celebration.
Too bad we missed the main event.
I know how hard it was for you to stop that first time
to ask directions, but we could have gotten second opinion
from some other gas station attendant,
preferably one who spoke our language.
Return flight cancelled, just as we lined to board the plane.
One woman opted to spend the night in the L.A. terminal
after Continental rep announced not a snowball's chance in Hades
finding hotel vacancy in Houston or Los Angeles.
We gambled on reroute to Houston Hobby,
and didn't sleep in the airport lobby.
Made it home a day late, but luggage intact.
That trip was like to hell and back.
Thank heaven for small blessings.
Kids waited 15 seconds after we stumbled through the door
before they spilled their guts
about their escapades while we were gone.
It's a hoot reminiscing, honey,
this year let's spend New Year's Eve at home.