[Poem#17] Fantasy

Horses do not excite me, their taut
muscles rippling beneath their glossy
hide, long manes and tails flowing out
behind them, bit in the mouth, eyes wide
and focused on an unseen goal as they
race to the adventure up ahead.

Nor do men dressed in metal, clanking
with their protection, dents and chinks
showing where other battles have been
won, only making them stronger and
more thirsty for the next, and even as a gloved
hand reaches down to assist, their eyes
are already seeing the next adventure.

No, what I desire is a welcoming and soft shoulder
inside a sweater vest - half-off on clearance - resting
on a quiet porch with wicker furniture,
content to overlook a dusty road, out of danger
from any fire-breathing dragons or rogue
knights. Unless they be yapping pups and
a knight who always loses his race car shoes.

In that case, lead me, dear one, into the fray.

oops...

Jiminy cricket, it's been nearly a week since I posted last. I wish I felt worse about it, and I wish I could say I felt like I really want to write something. Sadly, neither are the case.

But I was doing so well, and I'm feeling rather dry emotionally tonight. Not the best place to be in for creative outbursts, but it's a good a place as any.

Not that I haven't been writing - I just haven't been posting, as they are for other venues. I just finished up two reviews for JesusFreakHideout.com, one about which I got very complimentary comments from my editor. So needed tonight, so thanks, John. It's still crazy to me that I'm writing for them freelance - I used to frequent the site religiously as a middle schooler hooked on the world of Christian music.

The other piece is an article for the GFU Journal. It's more journalism-y than I've been in a long while, so I'm a bit nervous about it. I hope it'll come out okay, but luckily editors are there to help...right, Mike? And it's even a paying gig! The last time I had one of those? I'd have to think a long while on that.

I'll be sure to post when those are up. Until then, some more poor poetry that needs major editing for your consumption!

True quote of the day...

"But when you write poetry, you hope to leave holes for transcendence to shine through rather than building a house of prose."

-Jonathan Foreman

#1. I think houses are necessary, and holes are necessary too.
#2. I think prose can be written in such a way there are holes where the windows and doors should be, little chinks between the logs of the house.
#3. In the same way, poetry (usually bad poetry, but not always) can be written as a block, a small house with no holes at all.

Thank you, Mr. Foreman. I strive for those holes.

nothing more tonight...

Sorry. I feel like a slacker, but my bed beckons and I have much to do before I can embrace it.

I'm losing some of my momentum. The inspiration I'm garnering is fleeting, and the notes I make in the moment never strike me as anything special later. The words aren't coming as easily these days, and I wonder if it's because I'm getting out of the habit. But no worries, I'm all about good habits these days, so it'll come back.

I'm also feeling a little negative about what I've written so far. Most of it needs significant editing (that's what happens when you write your poetry in the little "new post" box), and so I'm not exactly proud of what I've produced. And I've been reading some other poetry, and I suffer poet envy - I want what I don't have, in terms of words. And yet, I think I'm okay. Nothing groundbreaking to be sure, but with some intensive editing, I think some of these will turn out alright.

I think, too, that my old system was to write it freehand first, in a notebook. Then when I typed it up, I edited it as I went, as well as played with form and line breaks and such. I may need to head back to that - only thing is that it takes a little longer and I'm less motivated to do so. Mixing things up is never a bad thing, and dry spells aren't the end of the world.

I have some freelance prose projects with deadlines in the near future, so I may be posting some paragraphs from those, just so it's clear I'm writing. :) It's exciting to have these jobs lined up - I just need to stop procrastinating and get to them. It may be, too, that in preparation for these, I've slowed my poetry spout to a trickle. I'm also reading fiction, so who knows where my mind will take me? I started my own novel years ago; it may be time to revisit it (though I HATE those who say they're working on a novel - gag. so many people are working on THEIR NOVELS at all levels of the word "work" and the word "novel").

So, never fear. I will return soon. Fight Resistance!

True quote of the day...

"Yet I am not silenced by the darkness, by the thick darkness that covers my face."
-Job 23:17, NIV

This is one of my favorite verses in the Bible, though I don't usually mention it to those who ask. Maybe it's my own bias, but I figure if you're asking me my favorite Bible verse, I'm not ready to shock you with this one.

Job's got it rough, man. This chapter, he's really low. He wants to come straight up to God and tell him what's what, but he can't find God. He's nowhere that Job can see. Even in his frustration, Job recognizes the sovereignty of God, though at this moment, there is no comfort in God's sovereignty. Instead, it inspires terror.

But Job is a stubborn guy, and he ends the chapter with this sentence. He's not going to give up. He's going to plead his case before God, even if it scares him, because he wants the chance for answers, even if there aren't any that are satisfying.

This verse found me during a very dark time in my life. I felt like I was in the dark, a suffocating blackness that threatened to snuff out any enjoyment of this life. I was stuck and broken and choking. But when I read Job's words, I took them for myself. I took them and said, "Yes, I am depressed and hopeless, with no noticeable way out. But I will not let it silence me." I wouldn't let the fear, the clouds, the smoke take the thing that I knew would save me in the end - words. Words are where I find God, and where He finds me, so I knew if I kept writing, kept communicating in the only way I knew how, that I would find my way back to the light.

It worked. Not saying I haven't fallen down and let that cloud overtake me, but I cling to this verse. I won't be silenced by the darkness.

[Poem#16] Bitter-Sweet

The tip of your tongue gathers
the sweetness, eager to taste

things with smiles, images of party
cupcakes and sunshine watermelon.

The back of your tongue welcomes
the bitterness: warmth of coffee,

roundness of olives. Opposite each other,
divided by the sour buds, they stand

at attention, not letting any taste go
unnoticed. When the sweetness overpowers,

the bitterness follows quickly. And when
the bitterness threatens to overwhelm,

the sweetness tries to cover that pain.
They work together - the bitter, the sweet -

that careful balance, and so you must depend
on both to keep life from getting too heavy.

True quote of the day...

"In an odd and poignant way these two lives, of a poet and a woman, have proved to be formidable historical editors of each other. In previous centuries, when the poet's life was an emblem for the grace and power of a society, a woman's life was often the object of his expression: in pastoral, sonnet, elegy. As the mute object of his eloquence her life could be at once addressed and silenced. By an ironic reversal, now that a woman's life is that emblem of grace and power, the democratized of our communities, of which her emergence is one aspect, makes a poet's life look suspect, can make it appear, to a wider society, elite and irrelevant all at once. Therefore, for anyone who is drawn into either of these lives, the pressure is there to betray the other: to disown or simplify, to resolve an inherent tension by making a false design from the ethical capabilities of one life or the visionary possibilities of the other."

-p. xiv, Object Lessons, Eavan Boland

There is so much in this quote. I've just started this book, and I can already see it's going to be a slow read - not because it's dull, but just because it's heavy with enormous statements. I'll have a lot to think about and chew on through this book.

It's interesting how she highlights the changing power statuses of both the woman and the poet. I see where she is coming from, saying that it's nearly as if the woman and the poet have switched roles in the last hundred years or so. And there is a tension between the woman's role and the poet's role, even in these changing times. At the most basic, a writer has to be selfish with her time, her ability, her art. A woman, especially one who is a wife and mother, is not allowed to be selfish. There is a tension. It's hard to reconcile, and as Boland implies, women tend to betray one or the other. I'm not sure I've ever put a name to that tension but I do feel it on occasion, especially when I think about my plans for the future. It'll be interesting to see how Boland discusses it throughout her book.

If it's not obvious from my scattered thoughts, I'm tired tonight. Spending all day working at a commencement when you watched those you love move past you is physically and emotionally exhausting. It was sad and beautiful all at once. Thus I don't feel like I have too much to offer, creatively. But it's fine. I'll see what I can pull out.