Category Archives: Poetry

Inklings

2 birds

I used to write in pen
Wherever I went,
Crossed out words,
Scribbled in margins,
Sloppy as a doctor.
I could read them again,
Bring them back to life,
If I changed my mind
And uncrumpled a page,
Balled up at the bottom
Of my purse in a rage.
Inklings,
Baby thoughts,
Smoothed and soothed,
Nurtured, revived,
Combined and spliced…
FRANKENPOMES!
Sometimes I
Stitched something up
That was almost all right.
How’d that happen?
They go where they go,
These inklings,
Like birds risen from a fire,
Creating their own horizon.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Inkling

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Strategy

pexels-photo-220211.jpeg

If I don’t plan a careful time management strategy, I find myself frittering away my nights and weekends on unproductive nonsense. It’s already the end of January and I have made scant progress on the poetry book I want to self-publish ASAP so that I can move on (back) to finish up my fiction in progress. I have not abandoned my writing! It’s all moldering away in perfectly organized computer folders. However, I am pleased to report that my current needlework project is coming along, but there’s still a long way to go on that as well. Onward to victory!

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Strategy

Prophetic, More or Less

My dear friend Peggy joked on the Book of Face that she had just seen a poast of mine from 1989 (FB newsfeeds have been weird lately), and I asked her if it was a pome about my hair. She said it was. The reason I asked is because I wanted an excuse to remind myself to share another blast from the past. I wrote this when I thought everything would last forever, in the Spring of 1989…

the day my hair went flat

permanents aren’t permanent:
they fall out in six months. i had one
the week before my wedding–got married
with hair as full as miss america’s,
skinny blonde highlights dancing up and down my head.
but soon i noticed
my head was getting smaller,
which made my body look too fat,
and after that
the color went.
i screamed at my reflection,
but that Golden Glow
just disappeared.
and so did
my husband–
the day
my hair went flat.

Funnel

Butterfly

 

I’m finding it very difficult to funnel my limited energy in my free time. There’s so much I want to do, but I’ve been (re)binge-watching Game of Thrones instead of accomplishing anything, and I probably should feel bad about that, though honestly I really don’t care. Since January 1st I have not exercised or begun a new needlework project or written a poem or comedy routine or even done boring paperwork I should do. We are 10 days in and those hours are gone now, that time lost forever. Creativity sparkles all around me like butterflies, each one so interesting…

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Funnel

Regarding Social Media

Typewriter

I like Twitter. There I said it, not that I’m getting paid (or am opposed to getting paid, hey). Since I’ve always had my finger on the pulse, more or less, I had a Twitter account straightaway, along with my Usenutters, where we tweeped what we ate for lunch and such. That was when you got 140 chars, no pics, no fancies. Boring! We quickly moved on to blogging and I eventually closed that account.

Years passed and Twitter seemed to turn into a wasteland of pr0n and politics, so I had no interest in it. But then one of my friends said there were poetry corners with lots of cool poets hanging out and doing flash stuffs, so I poked my head in again. And it was true ~ not just poetry, but prompts and wordgames and art and kitties and otters and all sorts of neato things. I made a new account.

Then I learned you were supposed to promote your writing via Twitter, so I created additional accounts for my ‘nyms, each dedicated to ginning up interest in my books, and x-tweeted with the other ‘nyms… ugh, exhausting. Not to mention, it didn’t help anything. My tweets immediately sank into the tweepy abyss, never to be seen again. Didn’t help if I “hearted” and retweeted other writers’ promos ~ everyone does that. Writing is hugely incestuous and it’s hard to break out of that cycle. Writers who achieve any meaningful success immediately lose their motivation to help lesser writers, and why not? They need to focus on writing their next successful book or else they’ll die. And they’ll probably die anyway. That’s just how it is. Note how successful people have zillions of followers but only follow a few, and this is true across all social media.

Anyway, this isn’t a whine about how I’m not going to write any more so there wah wah. I’ll always write because I’m a writer. But I’ll still bitch about various things, since I’m a bitch. Hehe. I came here to say that I like Twitter and I love blogging, which I plan to do more of, in lieu of so much st00pid, pointless Facebooking. Gah. What a waste of time and energy. Reading Twitter poetry is inspiring; writing on FB gets me warmed up to write in general. FB should be an afterthought, not something I reflexively look at before anything else.

I see so many friends complain about FB, on FB itself, which couldn’t care less, and I have to say… blogs are free. Get over here on WordPress (who isn’t paying me, but again I’m not opposed), get a blog, and choose your own design. It’s so nice to write a whole essay, post pics, control comments, know who visits, easily search for past stuff, etc. I highly recommend it. And if you don’t feel like writing? You can post a silly meme or Hallmark platitude on your blog same as anywhere else.

Think about it. Why gripe about FB and do nothing when there’s a solution right here?

Oh, Instagram. It’s become irritating as well, now that they’ve screwed it up and made it non-chronological so the paid accounts get priority. I haven’t been checking in as much and may unfollow everyone but my actual friends. That’s probably a good idea. I’ve also simply lost interest in photos somewhat. There are so many and okay gorgeous flowers adorable kitties oh looook OTTER and awww a baby and a puppy ooh hot fireman and some cupcakes yummm now more kitties okay… can I be done NO THERE ARE 72 million moar you have not seen omg.

Just get a blog, people, FFS. It’s not that hard.

Simmer

Quill

I use everything in my writing, like a depression era cook. Nothing goes to waste. While juicy bits might be served immediately, scraps and fat are not tossed out, but flung into the pot on a slow simmer. Bones and beaks will be cycled back in someday, just wait and see. Feathers float around the stove whispering poems as I stir the plot. Little feet line up on the windowsill awaiting their turn as I sweep broken shells into a corner. Oh, I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done. You’re just lucky my weapon is a pen and not a gun.

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Simmer

My Poetry Table

No, it is not a table piled high with books of pomes. Guess again. Nope, it is not a tabletop laminated with a collage of pomes snippled from the New Yorker, though that is a neat idea, now that I’ve mentioned it.

I’m talking about a table in Word, like my cupcake table. You do remember my cupcake table, don’t you? I still have it! And I can prove it… don’t test me. Anyway, I was doing tables at work last week to organize a project, as you do, and the idea began to form that hey I could organize my pomes like this. The problem I’ve been having with my latest poetry project is that the book is in four sections and I keep rearranging them instead of writing anything new.

Obviously I can’t write new things until the old things are in their proper place. I was mired in an OCD loop of cutting and pasting and flooping things here and there, but it’s hard to keep the entire concept straight in my head when some of the ideas are still only one line and not fleshed out, as it were. Listing the titles of the pomes in the various table sections, and rearranging them there, made so much more sense. Once I’m happy with that, then I fix the actual document. Now I see everything at a glance in the table instead of scrolling through the doc yet again (trying to keep it all in my head without stopping to revise) ~ not only the titles, but also how manu pomes are still unwritten in each section. I’ve already made so much progress in the last several days and feel very poetically productive.

Obviously this table is only for me and won’t appear in the book, which will have an index, since I’ve noticed that newly published Real Poetry Books have indexes, not TOCs, for some reason. This must be why my otter books did not fly off the e-shelves. LOLZ, I make funny.

Yay table! Yay organization! Well, I know at least one person who will appreciate this poast. 🙂

Organized

Buffet Paralysis

Choice is good; too much choice leaves me paralyzed. Not talking about dating again, though I could be, but that’s too boring. I’m talking about social media generally ~ there is simply too damn much of it now. When we had only Usenet (BITGOD), supplemented by our frantic, gossipy, occasionally flirtatious backchanneling emails, that already took up way too much free time, especially for those of us trying to do Serious Writing. Gawd forbid if we had Real Jobs too, yipes.

Then came, what, some other drippy sites, then blergging, then faceblop, which isn’t just one thing now, but has spawned into a devilmass of special groups to soak up every fucking minute of the day. Yes, you can turn off all those notifications, and I have. Also, there’s twatter and instapeep and group chats on messenger… and this doesn’t even touch actual news sites and e-magazines we might want to read and a constant flow of shows to watch via Prime or ‘Flix or whatever thing plus books on Kindle all piled up and regular books too and it’s all driving me insane. Good for you if you have a handle on all this shit. Yay you.

I’m paralyzed by this. I feel if I neglect Facebook and chats, then friendships will fade, especially with people I don’t see in meatspace. If I give up Twitter, then I won’t have a “presence” to promote the books I never write anyway. Instagram is no big deal to spend less or no time on, but it takes up the least time in the first place, so that doesn’t help much. I already don’t read as much as I’d like to, for a writer. I don’t actually watch many movies at home and no TV shows now that Game of Thrones is done for a while. I’ve been writing nothing this summer, nothing at all.

Summer’s almost over and I’m really bummed about my lack of progress. I have a few new poems this year, that’s it. No inspiration for a new novel and only a few more ideas for poems. BITGOD I used to feel I had plenty of time to myself, plenty of time to write, even time to exercise after work, and I have that same amount of time now… I just have to stop letting the internet steal it. September is always a good time for me to make a fresh start. Perpetual student here.

~*~

PS: Don’t bother looking up BITGOD since I just invented it. Use your noodle. 🙂

Glitch

I’m an alley cat
I play on the edge
Stay away
Unless you want claw marks
Down the back of your soul

Visible marks
Proclaiming possession
Invisible marks
Obscuring obsession
Heart closed for repairs

He came to me palms open
Offering pearls and doves
But his heart stayed closed
Withholding self
Denying love

The stars winked out
When he said goodbye
And blackness crawled
Across my mind
Don’t turn on the light

Phone glitch
Synching old texts
Brings me back to a past
Of dark days
And darker nights

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Synchronize

Scrambled Breakfast Tweets

You’re my trigger
I’m your gun
Aim for the heart
My chambers spin
In lush delirium

Drizzle your poison
Dose me slowly
Milk of amnesia
Soften my edges
Numb my pain

The room grows dark
Days ruled by shadows
Frost crusted on the glass
All is stone and ash
My first winter without you

Swept under the wave
Drowning in madness
I breathe your name
Everything explodes
Into drops of starfire

A stranger’s kiss
Revives my heart
Luckily
I buried it
In a shallow grave

~*~

The Daily Prompt: Shallow