Annie's Heartshards & the Hounds of Hell

[senia]

.
War is not something to celebrate, son,
there’s no happiness in it at all,
and all of the poets gathered under the sun
know nothing of answering the call.
You want to write something in metre and verse,
a sonnet to tell of brave tales? -
Try versify the walk beside mates in a hearse,
how the weight of a medal prevails.
Go string lines together to send to a wife
for her husband’s brave actions afield;
I’m sure she’ll appreciate the rest of her life
carrying wounds that can never be healed.
That heroism occurs is a fact beyond doubt
but no one can witness that at home;
all that is left will be those left without
as a loved one is lowered into loam.
Put away your pen, son, there’s nothing for you here,
at least nothing I can give you today;
you want do something? – then buy me a beer,
let me march one more time to the fray.
.

thankheavens for MPs

[senia]

.
in my pocket always, a ring
weighted with magic brass,
scored and sharp cut into mountains
and valleys click snick quietly,
rooms, thick with waiting open--
this is what I miss most
.

[bop]

Annie,

The 'icks' work well!

bop

[senia]

.
we all make bargains

hours are braided into my hair
and the small curves of my fingernails hold ten years--
days are peacocks etched upon each palm.
I close my hands so their eyes cannot see
how eagerly I spread my thighs

.




Thanks bop--ick is about right.

[senia]

.
rewind - august 21, 1992

layers of dust baked into your skin. your jeans creased and marked by hours of seat, cantle and sweat. I read the day in the small white, roan and gray hairs woven into denim, the shine of your lupine eyes, the green oat spill of your words. you are twelve and and the singing bowl of your laugh bells honey-gold

.


layers of dust baked into your skin.
your jeans creased and marked
by hours of seat, cantle and sweat.
I read the day in the small white,
roan and gray hairs woven into denim,
the shine of your lupine eyes,
the green oat spill of your words.
you are twelve and and the singing bowl
of your laugh bells honey-gold.


I wrote it without linebreaks but I don't know. maybe

[Dave Wiseman]

Horses and peacocks and sex, oh my!

I think your horse poem is better with linebreaks. I wonder, however about "lupine" I just have a hard time getting to wolf from horse.

I really like the
hours are braided into my hair
line in "we all make bargins" say what you will, that's a great image.

[senia]

lupine is a flower. was thinking the blue ones. they come in lots of colors. *shrugs* might have to change to delphinium but.

[Dave Wiseman]

Dave= (smack forehead) The names of flowers and plants, particularly the Latin and Latin-ish ones, seem to always trip me up. I have the librarian's disease of taking things far too literally.

[Empty Chairs]

Annie, I am loving this thread. For the record, I like 'Rewind' with linebreaks. Brave of you to attempt a war poem. I think it works well.

[senia]

Thanks, guys. Well, Dave, I love librarians--and to be honest, I didn't even consider a misreading of that word. My daughter loves the poem so I am happy.

The war poem is actually by someone else--he will be pleased you liked it, Laura.

[senia]

.
night rages inside the cup.
spill of slippery elm,
rank badger sett, rut-wild
must of doe and buck.
I choke deep
until ragged with drink,
I sleep--wounded still
.

[senia]

.
salt blossoms in the sun

paper wasps hover, harvest bitter
honey and I mourn the spoil

.

[senia]

.
days are etched upon each palm--peacocks in full spread. I close my hands so the eyes cannot see
how I try and try and try to stay right--how easily I spread my thighs--my hollow, hollow bones

.




almost caught up!!

[senia]

.
when I scatter, when I fall
apart, believe me whole
worlds of moon and sun and stars

**

like a parasol plucked
from a rum-hazed drink,
a little torn, a little creased

**

my heart is a paper bag--
please recycle
.



pitiful one leaves two to write, to finally be fucking done

[kamala]

Hi Annie,
only two to go! You can definitely do this.
Loads of stuff I need to read later - but I do like this last one. Shards is being a good theme for you!
K.