Category Archives: Poem-a-day

Poem: Never Grow Up! Never Give In! (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 8)

Ladies, gentlemen,
sisters, shipmates, satyrs,
tricksters, tyrants, treasure hunters,

grant me your attention as I
invite you all aboard the Jolly
Roger! Under new management, our
leader Red-handed Jill has
stepped aside so that another

pioneering pirate lass could be born.
Impressed with her shipsister,
Red-handed Jill promoted Green-Eyed Sue to
Admiral, and now we sail under her command.
The seas of Neverland have never,
ever been been the same since.

ALL are welcome here, from paisleyed
circus tumblers to harlequin
acrobat acolytes (of
dieties known, unknown or otherwise).
Even parents and grownups, who
may have forgotten how to fly,
yes, as long as they are willing to learn.

Lost Girls Pirate Academy, now on Facebook for all to find, join, and love.

Poem: Untitled Triolet (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 7)

Originally posted as a contest entry to win a copy of Seanan McGuire’s A Local Habitation.

Unearthly wiles, a deathly spell
Displace the knight and find the Daye
A magic haven, fairy hell
Unearthly wiles, a deathly spell
To seek the knowe, to know it well
The shadowed hills may hold a way
Unearthly wiles, a deathly spell
Displace the knight, and find the Daye

Google loves me, this I know,
For my searching tells me so.
When I’ve lost a poem I
Find it in two second’s time.

Poem: Whole (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 6)

You are my bright and shining day,
You are my black and starry night,
You are my sugar/cream cup of Earl Grey,
You are my burning crossroads light.

I am your smallest, latest hour,
I am your companion on the road,
I am your bramble, thorn and flower,
I am your source, an ancient node.

You smile and enchant me,
I sing and raise your soul,
Together, we’re a marvel.
On our own, we’re whole.

Poem: My Madness and I (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 5)

We’re all…
We’re all mad…

I might be mad.
Seeing only lies
Fool’s gold truths
Creating a rhinestone and plastic fantasy
where nothing I know as true
is indubitably sound.
Terror is mold on the cork.
Loneliness is always
sour and astringent on the palate,
bittered, vinegared wine.

Crushing loneliness does not
make for a delicious vintage.
Its skin is sour,
and vile.

Rather, I prefer to
plump globes hanging heavy
from sturdy trunks,
fruit, or blood,
dripping down my arms
running floods beneath my feet.

I now serve the Mad God,
the Dying God,
the Reborn,
Thrice-born God.
He is a perfect study in madness.

This is the beginning,
I have just barely begun.
I will continue to follow Him.
Only through this journey
can I learn my own madness,
traced in the dust
by the soles of his sandalled feet.
The dust, and the lessons,
are not to be tamed,
nor erased,
but to be learned,
mapped, explored, loved,
reintegrated into myself
and taught how to be a good citizen.

Poem: Untitled (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 4)

“What does it mean?”
What is real.
What does it mean?”
What is thought.
“What does it mean?”
What is within.
“What does it mean?”
What is mystery.
“What does it mean?”
What is truth.
What is color.
What is blood.
What is bone.
What is animal.
What is.

Poem: On Breath, Part I (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 3)

I want to live in the space between
your teeth
your tongue.
The gasps amongst words,
betwixt lines,
the mortar of stanzas;
here dwells the truest meaning
and most inscrutable.
deeper than verbs,
wider than adjectives,
I want to sleep twined
with your letters.
I want to kiss your consonants
with flushed lips.
I want to sink
of your vowels,
voluptuous, monolith, gorgeous noun of YOU.
I will pluck your subjunctive
like the strings of a cello,
fingers curved, beating
pizzicato pressure, precious
heady honey of Hebe
drenching my pluperfect
with vessel’s nectar,
Aphrodite’s lipstick still pressed to the edge.

Poem: Interesting (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 2)

I? Am awesome.
No, really, I am.
So, why is it then that I
can’t talk to you,
beyond things like
“I like your shoes,”
“I’m really good at…

…awkward silences”
“What is your opinion on water?”
Fascinating people,
why must I
and stammer

What is it about you all
that halts my thoughts
and stills my tongue?
I want to be someone interesting,
like you.
I like you.
I’d like to know you.
I hope you like me.
Please forgive me,
I don’t know what to say.

…do you enjoy public buses?
Nope, still have no idea.

Poem: Poet Season (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 1)

I’ve decided to try and write a poem for every day in the month of June, ideally one per day.
A poem a day keeps depression at bay.

Here is today’s.

Poet Season

In trying to write
the moment
I write nothing
worthwhile, profound,
nor meaningful.

I can only write
a poem if it
seizes me
in its jaws
and shakes its words
out of me.

So I seek you, poem.
Striped and spotted,
scaled and feathered.

I do not seek to
capture, hold, or
tame, nor to slay,
dissect, nor to sell
your parts to heal,
enchant, arouse
or harm.

I only wish to be
ripped apart
so I can bleed
your spirit
onto the page.