Hello out there in poetry land. It's starting to feel a little desolate in here. The only post I've received as of Sunday night is my own. I know I may be a little narcissistic, but come on, you guys are making me look bad in front of the Teacher and you know it's all about me, me, me... If I don't have some seriously nonsensical poetry posted by the time she gets back, she won't ever let me guest host again. Now lets get rhyming poets! Here's mine.
Scalpetish
After 1 Year of Chemo
I’m scalpetish I claim.
My mirror knows that I’m vain.
My hair is still there.
Heads still not quite bare.
4 Months Later
It’s starting to fall.
It seems I’ll shed all.
The Crypt Keeper’s hair,
Looks good by compare.
2 Weeks Later
Hands cling to bare pate.
I’ll never find a mate,
Though I attend every function,
As I deny my compunction.
6 Months Later
I compulsively stroke hair,
For my scalps almost not bare.
Scalpetish I am.
My indifference a sham.
2 Months Later
New drugs burn my veins.
Yes, I still am quite vain.
Hair is my only real fetish.
You know, I call it scalpetish.
Marianne Fuchs
April 22, 2008
***************
Yea! We have another poet willing to scramble her words to create a poetry omelet. Here's a tasty little slice of rhyme by Andrea I think you will all enjoy:
"Life is just so complicayteedee"
she mused while attempting to feed a dead cat some of her lunch
"Pussykins Pussykins you wuvas cheese don't you"
trash strewn canyons wind through mountains of newspapers
"I've read every book here twice times two and those for clippings"
toenails and slippers grown as one, wig matted to scalp
"I'm a healer and can warm souls so I don't need help just now"
life is just so complicayteedee
***************
by Gabrielle
My Nonsense Word
My nonsense word is called Freedom,
its a love I pained to conceive.
My nonsense word is called Freedom,
its an ideal I longed to achieve.
The government finds
the taste of it sour
but cannot deny
its increasing power
exponentially growing
hour by hour
So I guess I can finally believe.
***************
Here is my Nonsense Word Poem
Please suggest any changes.
JG
Nonsense Job
I worked in his office
Each day after drool
For a grubbett of wheezers
A pocket of spool.
He licked me, I’m sure
With a winkel and nod
And paid me entreaties
Of hooves and a clod.
I ungered him once,
A pain in his chest--
He drubbed me unduly
To always unrest.
I worked in his office
Each day till the drop
And left with a wouch
And a snack left on top.
April 30, 2008 6:41 AM
***************
From kackerbe
H.I.M.
he gorps and grows so
messianic manitou
helpless, my love grows
***************************
(a haiku about Barry!)---p.s. did you ever see The Manitou?
Best-Worst movie ever!!!!!
"gorp" means to my family-----drinking thick milkshakes, etc. :)
His*Infernal*Majesty
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Need A Little Help From My Friends
Hi Everyone. It's a pleasure to be here, standing, or should I say, typing in for Gabrielle. As we all know, sometimes life gets a little to hectic and we have to take a step back. I guess Gab is having one of those weeks. I'll be filling in until next Friday.
While I'm at the controls, I thought I'd ask for a little help from all of you. A dear friend of mine is opening a Day Spa. She has asked me to write a poem she could have framed to display in the spa. She asked that if reference God, friends, women, and that her dream is coming true. Here's what I've got. Any suggestions?
Ode to Ana’s Dream
New Awakenings Day Spa
An exquisite dream,
Was fulfilled it seems,
By Gods warm embrace.
Reward for her faith.
In the company of friends,
Femininity shall mend,
Bringing forth these rare flowers,
Meant to bask in Gods Powers.
These rooms shall be filled,
With laughter and tears.
May joy, peace and grace,
Complete this fair space.
True beauty is not skin deep.
Into our souls it doth creep.
Thus know you’ll never repent,
This precious time here you’ve spent.
Marianne Fuchs
April 22, 2008
While I'm at the controls, I thought I'd ask for a little help from all of you. A dear friend of mine is opening a Day Spa. She has asked me to write a poem she could have framed to display in the spa. She asked that if reference God, friends, women, and that her dream is coming true. Here's what I've got. Any suggestions?
Ode to Ana’s Dream
New Awakenings Day Spa
An exquisite dream,
Was fulfilled it seems,
By Gods warm embrace.
Reward for her faith.
In the company of friends,
Femininity shall mend,
Bringing forth these rare flowers,
Meant to bask in Gods Powers.
These rooms shall be filled,
With laughter and tears.
May joy, peace and grace,
Complete this fair space.
True beauty is not skin deep.
Into our souls it doth creep.
Thus know you’ll never repent,
This precious time here you’ve spent.
Marianne Fuchs
April 22, 2008
Friday Makeup School
I need to take a little break, due to upcoming graduation of eldest Son. Let me introduce you to our guest, you know her as ADD Novelist, My Friend Marianne.
Your assignment this week is to make up any assignments you've missed in the past.
I hope everyone has a great week. I'll be thinking of you during this nail bitingly difficult time. Please keep me in your thoughts. Please extend a gracious welcome to Marianne, as I know you will.
Please forward all submission for this week to Marianne at msottis@yahoo.com
I'll be back next week.
Gabrielle
Your assignment this week is to make up any assignments you've missed in the past.
I hope everyone has a great week. I'll be thinking of you during this nail bitingly difficult time. Please keep me in your thoughts. Please extend a gracious welcome to Marianne, as I know you will.
Please forward all submission for this week to Marianne at msottis@yahoo.com
I'll be back next week.
Gabrielle
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Andrea's Sunday School
Your assignment, if you choose to accept it, is to write a poem with at least one nonsense word. Direct questions to our fabulous Andrea.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Belated Friday School
Sorry...I've got the mung and have just been crudding around.
******************
by Gabrielle
To My First Love at Thirteen
I'm sorry we got in that fight
and I went to camp without saying goodbye.
When I came back you were in ICU
and the nurses could not meet my eye.
I left a note they said you saw,
did you know the sorrow I could not say?
Do you know that regret that lives in my heart
even to this day?
I love you John S.
******************
by Monica
Mr. Carlson
I'm the youngest of your youngest
She and I look a lot alike
Act alike, not that you would know
I was named for your replacement
I never met you, but don't remember him
I watched the TV you died with
I think we would have got along
Do you even know who I am?
******************
by Andrea
Ode to the man sitting across from me on Bus #5 heading North from Downtown
Only
eight
stops
to
say
I
Love
You
by Andrea
******************
by Marianne
My Conversation With
Mark Twain
You were a brave man,
to take such a stand.
Against everything grand,
established or thought to be good.
Religion, you spurned it.
Government, you burned it.
Society, you turned it
on it’s heels, leading it astray.
Marianne Fuchs
April 15, 2008
******************
by Gabrielle
To My First Love at Thirteen
I'm sorry we got in that fight
and I went to camp without saying goodbye.
When I came back you were in ICU
and the nurses could not meet my eye.
I left a note they said you saw,
did you know the sorrow I could not say?
Do you know that regret that lives in my heart
even to this day?
I love you John S.
******************
by Monica
Mr. Carlson
I'm the youngest of your youngest
She and I look a lot alike
Act alike, not that you would know
I was named for your replacement
I never met you, but don't remember him
I watched the TV you died with
I think we would have got along
Do you even know who I am?
******************
by Andrea
Ode to the man sitting across from me on Bus #5 heading North from Downtown
Only
eight
stops
to
say
I
Love
You
by Andrea
******************
by Marianne
My Conversation With
Mark Twain
You were a brave man,
to take such a stand.
Against everything grand,
established or thought to be good.
Religion, you spurned it.
Government, you burned it.
Society, you turned it
on it’s heels, leading it astray.
Marianne Fuchs
April 15, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
Friday School
I liked our heard and spoken poem so much it really got me thinking about communication. I want everyone to think of one person(or thing) they would really like to have a converstion with. The title should be that individual's name, and the poem will be 8 lines of what you would say to them if you could. Have a great weekend, poets!
Closet Poet Jam
Here's our results so far....
*****************
by Gaby, Andrea, Marianna and Kate
Its snowing where I'm going
and its snowing where I've been.
My beams reflection on the road ahead
is the only light I've seen.
I remember in the summer
We weren’t bothered by the heat
We ran through sprinklers, drank from hoses
Played kick the can on Dravis street
If I were in Florida,
It'd be hot and steamy.
Now I'm in this snow-bound world,
My view is white and gleamy.
with the warm thump of my wiperblades
my sense of self becomes the car
who's to say I'm not in a spaceship
dodging cosmic dust ,while longing for my star
*******************
by John
“It’s snowing where I’m going
And it’s snowing where I’ve been
My beams reflection on the road ahead
Is the only light I’ve seen”.
Dorothy wakes up, the snow is gone
The snow was only a dream.
Nothing that wonderful ever happens in Kansas.
Dorothy is about to scream.
It’s a boring day in Kansas
I’ve had it up to here with all of them.
So I jammed the Jeep in four wheel drive
Oops, I backed over Aunty Em.
It’s windy, mighty windy
The wind’s ‘a blowin’ quite severe.
Still nothing beats the open road,
Springsteen and a six-pack of beer.
It’s raining, I’m not complaining
It’s raining fierce and then it fades.
I’m very glad that Uncle Henry
Installed new wiper blades.
It’s hailing, but I’m not wailing
The chunks are hailing crossways wise
Tis a good thing Hickory applied
A second coat of Simoniz.
Twas a twister, almost missed her
Twas a twister mighty grand
The Jeep became a flying monkey, now my
GPS says “Munchkinland”
*****************
by Gaby, Andrea, Marianna and Kate
Its snowing where I'm going
and its snowing where I've been.
My beams reflection on the road ahead
is the only light I've seen.
I remember in the summer
We weren’t bothered by the heat
We ran through sprinklers, drank from hoses
Played kick the can on Dravis street
If I were in Florida,
It'd be hot and steamy.
Now I'm in this snow-bound world,
My view is white and gleamy.
with the warm thump of my wiperblades
my sense of self becomes the car
who's to say I'm not in a spaceship
dodging cosmic dust ,while longing for my star
*******************
by John
“It’s snowing where I’m going
And it’s snowing where I’ve been
My beams reflection on the road ahead
Is the only light I’ve seen”.
Dorothy wakes up, the snow is gone
The snow was only a dream.
Nothing that wonderful ever happens in Kansas.
Dorothy is about to scream.
It’s a boring day in Kansas
I’ve had it up to here with all of them.
So I jammed the Jeep in four wheel drive
Oops, I backed over Aunty Em.
It’s windy, mighty windy
The wind’s ‘a blowin’ quite severe.
Still nothing beats the open road,
Springsteen and a six-pack of beer.
It’s raining, I’m not complaining
It’s raining fierce and then it fades.
I’m very glad that Uncle Henry
Installed new wiper blades.
It’s hailing, but I’m not wailing
The chunks are hailing crossways wise
Tis a good thing Hickory applied
A second coat of Simoniz.
Twas a twister, almost missed her
Twas a twister mighty grand
The Jeep became a flying monkey, now my
GPS says “Munchkinland”
Religious Ideation...
Here are two old poems, one by John and one of mine. John is inviting any suggestions on his...I kind of like mine as it is....
Vision of the Madonna Weeping
Upon the Shoulder of
Route 9
A desolate strip of asphalt divides the land,--
right, Connecticut resumes her southward journey,
while to the left, lush Haddam’s forests stand.
A phantom fog dominates this valley
tonight. Low beams lap uncertain sight,
the broken lines of white infinity.
Images in a mirror without light:
a liquor store, a school, a dead end street;
repent attention from the drowsy night.
How molecules make man and this conceit
of mist against my window—to defrost
this Latin Mass of poetry--effete
tenor and vehicle in the gray exhaust
of clouds in contact with the ground. Route 9
North or South, no difference when you’re lost.
I see her on the shoulder, the Divine
Madonna, holding a lily, weeping—
and goodness was the last thought on my mind.
********************
Vision of the Madonna Weeping
Upon the Shoulder of
Route 9
A desolate strip of asphalt divides the land,--
right, Connecticut resumes her southward journey,
while to the left, lush Haddam’s forests stand.
A phantom fog dominates this valley
tonight. Low beams lap uncertain sight,
the broken lines of white infinity.
Images in a mirror without light:
a liquor store, a school, a dead end street;
repent attention from the drowsy night.
How molecules make man and this conceit
of mist against my window—to defrost
this Latin Mass of poetry--effete
tenor and vehicle in the gray exhaust
of clouds in contact with the ground. Route 9
North or South, no difference when you’re lost.
I see her on the shoulder, the Divine
Madonna, holding a lily, weeping—
and goodness was the last thought on my mind.
********************
Crucifiction of the Dance Indifference
lost soul
dark blue and grey
calloused hands and bruised face
In life's forests the paths
often lead to confusion
while the blind kneel
in retribution.
*
battered soul
vivid purple and red
torn feet and bloody head
silhouette
against the setting sun
communion of the faithful
when day is done.
*
Time ignores those
who bow in reverence
but crucifies those
who dance in difference.
*
Close tired eyes
and dream of the sublime
or shimmer like stardust
for too short a time?
Friday, April 4, 2008
Friday School : Closet Poet Jam
Thinking about lyrics the other day reminded me of a poem I started this past winter. I have to travel a long distance to work on a 2 lane highway fraught with perilous turns and speeding semis. The poem kept me company on the long drive. As it was forming, it felt like a song. I'm posting the opening lines, and its your job to build it with me. Please follow the same format and rhyme scheme. Have a great weekend!!
Its snowing where I'm going
and its snowing where I've been.
My beams reflection on the road ahead
is the only light I've seen.
Its snowing where I'm going
and its snowing where I've been.
My beams reflection on the road ahead
is the only light I've seen.
Heard and Spoken
Last week's assignment was to record the first words you heard of a morning and the last words you said at night from Monday through Thursday.
*********************
My Week In Review
By Marianne Fuchs
Hey, we woke Marianne up!
She sounded like she was
ready to sue, didn’t she.
Bobby’s talking to the bank today,
about the loan.
Beckham got hurt as soon as he
got here, but he’s still getting paid.
Are you awake? Are we going
to breakfast?
No, the Anti-Theft device is
activated. It’s tucked in.
Are you feeling better now?
It’s in safe mode right now.
We can play the games tomorrow,
but if it crashes, we’re screwed.
****************
My week
by Andrea
I was hoping you were you
The kiln is on and the annoying fan should stay on too
I need your help, what would Gidget eat?
Evil Timmy better be there next time
Did you find Lil' Marcy on your doorstep?
I'm off to be neat, cool and strong
Can you order more Hydroxizine?
1 I love you, 2 I love you, 3 I love you- Bye!
Someone once said to me that the only thing weirder than me were my friends...
I didn't include the "hi Andrea it's..." just the "real" first thing that was said to me
(Although my sister never said hi-just launched into needing my assistance planning a 60's style beach BBQ)
The Neat cool and strong was from a newspaper article about my family pottery class- that's how a 9 year old student described me. I think it will be a good slogan should I run for President.
On Thursday, I told my friends what my assignment was so they have been calling me saying all kinds of nonsense-too late!
**************
by Gabrielle
Ok.
There better be some sleeping going on.
Mama Mama!
See you in the morning.
Bye, Mom.
Yes, good night.
I’ve got to go to Grandma’s house.
I really do love you.
*************
By Kate
book ended by the sun and the stars
...I know I know,....it's TIME to get up....
good night sweet dreams I love you.
um Mom, is it time to get up?
'night Peachy paisano, sweet dreams please hush now.
Wow! I sure sweated a lot last night.
did you go pee before you hopped in bed?excellent big guy...love you.
I wish I could go back to sleep...
goodnight angel eyes
.**********************************************
this was a transaction solely between mother and child.I'm still giggling over his "sweating" in bed...he had actually peed and this happens once or twice a year-if he eats a lot of salty food then drinks water through the night....I'll treasure these memories.
**************
By Monica
I couldn't do this week's assignment, so I wrote a poem to explain why.
FIRST AND LAST
First in the morning, what was said?
It's hard to tell. It's in my head
A jumbled mess of words and phrases
Like a book with missing pages.
One night I stayed up with pain
I sorted through the words in vain.
What was said last at night?
To my cat I think it might
Be all the words I have to say
Because I've been at work all day.
****************
by Michelle
this is my week. my daughter, 12, is not a morning person. lol
*
i'm up
goodnight, god bless you, see you in the morning. i love you
don't turn on my light
goodnight, god bless you, see you in the morning. i love you.
ug
goodnight, god bless you, see you in the morning. i love you.
alright, i'm up
goodnight, god bless you, see you in the morning. i love you.
**
my mom used to say that line to me when she tucked me in. i started saying it to my daughter when she was a baby and have ever since. even though i don't tuck her in anymore...she goes to bed and will actually wake up when she hears me coming up the stairs, tells me good night and waits for me to say it to her...then falls back to sleep. hopefully she will say it to her child someday and have the connection that it has brought to us.
*********************
My Week In Review
By Marianne Fuchs
Hey, we woke Marianne up!
She sounded like she was
ready to sue, didn’t she.
Bobby’s talking to the bank today,
about the loan.
Beckham got hurt as soon as he
got here, but he’s still getting paid.
Are you awake? Are we going
to breakfast?
No, the Anti-Theft device is
activated. It’s tucked in.
Are you feeling better now?
It’s in safe mode right now.
We can play the games tomorrow,
but if it crashes, we’re screwed.
****************
My week
by Andrea
I was hoping you were you
The kiln is on and the annoying fan should stay on too
I need your help, what would Gidget eat?
Evil Timmy better be there next time
Did you find Lil' Marcy on your doorstep?
I'm off to be neat, cool and strong
Can you order more Hydroxizine?
1 I love you, 2 I love you, 3 I love you- Bye!
Someone once said to me that the only thing weirder than me were my friends...
I didn't include the "hi Andrea it's..." just the "real" first thing that was said to me
(Although my sister never said hi-just launched into needing my assistance planning a 60's style beach BBQ)
The Neat cool and strong was from a newspaper article about my family pottery class- that's how a 9 year old student described me. I think it will be a good slogan should I run for President.
On Thursday, I told my friends what my assignment was so they have been calling me saying all kinds of nonsense-too late!
**************
by Gabrielle
Ok.
There better be some sleeping going on.
Mama Mama!
See you in the morning.
Bye, Mom.
Yes, good night.
I’ve got to go to Grandma’s house.
I really do love you.
*************
By Kate
book ended by the sun and the stars
...I know I know,....it's TIME to get up....
good night sweet dreams I love you.
um Mom, is it time to get up?
'night Peachy paisano, sweet dreams please hush now.
Wow! I sure sweated a lot last night.
did you go pee before you hopped in bed?excellent big guy...love you.
I wish I could go back to sleep...
goodnight angel eyes
.**********************************************
this was a transaction solely between mother and child.I'm still giggling over his "sweating" in bed...he had actually peed and this happens once or twice a year-if he eats a lot of salty food then drinks water through the night....I'll treasure these memories.
**************
By Monica
I couldn't do this week's assignment, so I wrote a poem to explain why.
FIRST AND LAST
First in the morning, what was said?
It's hard to tell. It's in my head
A jumbled mess of words and phrases
Like a book with missing pages.
One night I stayed up with pain
I sorted through the words in vain.
What was said last at night?
To my cat I think it might
Be all the words I have to say
Because I've been at work all day.
****************
by Michelle
this is my week. my daughter, 12, is not a morning person. lol
*
i'm up
goodnight, god bless you, see you in the morning. i love you
don't turn on my light
goodnight, god bless you, see you in the morning. i love you.
ug
goodnight, god bless you, see you in the morning. i love you.
alright, i'm up
goodnight, god bless you, see you in the morning. i love you.
**
my mom used to say that line to me when she tucked me in. i started saying it to my daughter when she was a baby and have ever since. even though i don't tuck her in anymore...she goes to bed and will actually wake up when she hears me coming up the stairs, tells me good night and waits for me to say it to her...then falls back to sleep. hopefully she will say it to her child someday and have the connection that it has brought to us.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Hard poems
Sometimes, you're in a hard place, and you write a poem to help you get your head right. Sometimes, a friend is in a hard place, and you write a poem to get their heart right. Here's a couple. Have you ever been there?
*************
by Gabrielle
My Brief SI
Sometimes
I sit in the car
and think about
turning it on
and letting it run.
Warming it up
to take me on a trip
to another place
away from these troubles,
these problems I can't solve.
I sit in the driver's seat
and smoke a cigarette
looking at the cinderblock wall
in front of me
and the closed garage door
behind me
and think
about turning it on
and letting it run...
but I guess
I'm not
done packing
yet.
*************
by Marianne
Dakota’s School Days
He speaks in whispers,
Not wanting to be rude.
His gestures timid,
Not daring to intrude.
Heart-breaking sadness.
Eyes glistening with pain.
Hoping for approval,
He knows he’ll never gain.
Born in such a hurry.
Smaller than the rest.
Grew up much to slowly.
Great scars upon his chest.
A host of medical conditions.
Operations saved his heart,
But what about his spirit?
It can’t be written in a chart.
He’s the different son.
Not the All Star one.
Homework is never done.
Tragic life may come undone.
Scratching till he bleeds.
He sees Doctors, Psychoanalysts.
He’s too young to understand.
What cruel curse is this?
When anger finally explodes in class,
No calm voice or loving embraces.
Only stern words, cold hard stares,
To fuel the fire as it RAGES.
Marianne Fuchs
March 26, 2008
*************
by Gabrielle
My Brief SI
Sometimes
I sit in the car
and think about
turning it on
and letting it run.
Warming it up
to take me on a trip
to another place
away from these troubles,
these problems I can't solve.
I sit in the driver's seat
and smoke a cigarette
looking at the cinderblock wall
in front of me
and the closed garage door
behind me
and think
about turning it on
and letting it run...
but I guess
I'm not
done packing
yet.
*************
by Marianne
Dakota’s School Days
He speaks in whispers,
Not wanting to be rude.
His gestures timid,
Not daring to intrude.
Heart-breaking sadness.
Eyes glistening with pain.
Hoping for approval,
He knows he’ll never gain.
Born in such a hurry.
Smaller than the rest.
Grew up much to slowly.
Great scars upon his chest.
A host of medical conditions.
Operations saved his heart,
But what about his spirit?
It can’t be written in a chart.
He’s the different son.
Not the All Star one.
Homework is never done.
Tragic life may come undone.
Scratching till he bleeds.
He sees Doctors, Psychoanalysts.
He’s too young to understand.
What cruel curse is this?
When anger finally explodes in class,
No calm voice or loving embraces.
Only stern words, cold hard stares,
To fuel the fire as it RAGES.
Marianne Fuchs
March 26, 2008
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