Poetry Quickfire, inspired by Dad

You all know how I love impressionist, expressionist, and fauvist artists.  The fluidity and life of those canvases...

 Dynamic

Walk as a fresh canvas
to offer life and love
for a share in pure bounty.

Blend my colors
as I sculpt the yes to you
and frame the world to matter.

See the whole being
with layers of healing peace
and gather a broken soul.

Grab the frayed paintbrush
to pull out the boldness
that joy demands of you.

Dedicated to my dear Dad (7/25/1932 - 12/27/2000)  He believed in meaningful connections with others. I see how he added color and vitality to others' lives.  I feel humbled by his example. Love you Dad.

As kids jump on trampoline, a poetry quickfire shows itself

Stretching

Almost slipped off that ladder of words
when an unruly emotion skated by.
The breakfast life pushed back
a she who breathed to articulate.

Half gripping on that elusive prose
a torn she changes voice for home.
The detour set for another climb
when each rung screams UP!

She fears a plummet from soul
if clouds darken the words away.
Eyes closed with her gut intact
she lets the words rain down.

off the cuff - a poem from somewhere

two people sharing the usual space
energy pushing through a screen
circle talk finds no eureka
one person sees the swallowing of dreams
time will not wait for awakening
a spouse will help the other through

Poetry Quickfire Before Putting on the Apron

Here's an attempt at a stream of consciousness poem. Often, I see modern poets just throwing out groupings of words or images as a revelation of an instant of thought that fights form. I'll build on this poem soon, but now my pork tenderloin dinner is calling. Wonder if the great Julia Child ever wrote a little poetry before breaking out the spatula?


Turn It Over

fleeting glances in the pane
could not reveal the etched out
world gathering in deep corners
as the keeper of the routine
maneuvered around the shapeless
closing off that valve of unsaid
turning mechanically as whispers
pushed against the wall while
scratches for release moved
through each muted sentence
mocking attempts at civility

Poetry Quickfires & all those wild boys

Hi everyone! It's been awhile since I've done one of my poetry quickfires. Boisterous, rambunctious boys fill my house right now. It's not the best creative atmosphere for me, but I felt that this poem had to get out one way or the other. I like working the wording out spontaneously in the blog post window. I know that I have only about 10 minutes (usually) so it's fun to see what comes out of me when that elusive Muse decides to come by and visit :)

Thanks for reading!


What Calls From The Window

Hunger, place me in that field of promise,
where dreams of being unravel in clouds.
Fear, please fill my world with discovery,
when disconnect holds my voice in shackles.

Quiet, gather me into your comfort,
where silence creates a chorus of one.
Self, circle around to witness the trapped,
when each syllable scales the impossible.

Poetry Quickfire

To Be Caught

The she within found each crevice
pushing with bloodied fingers
to reach the summit of her could be.

That air above could chill her resolve
frosting her aching limbs
to scale the pile of her daily being.

The pulse below hums through breath
moving with patched spirit
to pen the person of her ever present.

Happy Saturday everyone. I just had one of those tough discipline moments with the kids. I always feel kind of torn in two when I'm fighting to keep the peace. Sometimes I write a poem as a way to purge that negativity out of me. This is what I wrote as I sat here these 10 minutes away in a place to bring me back to me. It's a poem without a plan or maybe even a reason, but it somehow expresses where I am now and where I want to climb throughout my day.

Hope I'm making some sense :) See you all soon, my friends.

Poetry quickfire

Swelling

Somewhere between birth and all mother,
I must have built my secret well.
Stumbling through slumber with ache,
I set each brick within that core.
Tipping buckets of resistant tears,
I feel valley through days of tug and pull.
Hours hang with leaden weight,
I walk above another flood.
Heart washes away with meal prep,
I fear the crack in the well.

As you can tell, it's been one of those weeks with the kids. I can still hear the labor nurses saying to me, "Push! Push!" Little did I know that the kids would be pushing me to my limits at times :) Gratefully, tomorrow is another day. I have to hold my ground even when I'm a little shaky. It's good to know that I can come to this wonderful blog world and find the refuge that I need. Thanks everyone!

Poetry Quickfire

Upright

Woman stood alone gathering
pieces of power scattered
around that self history.

Woman sang alone moving
sections of heart positioned
around that open wound.

Woman stumbled alone breathing
words of intent shaped
around that faded desire.

Woman cried alone fueling
acts of creation poured
around that regular life.


This one seemed to flow right out of me. I'm letting it stand and breathe on its own for now. Sometimes I think my poems just have to be released.

Thanks for reading. I'll visit you all soon :)

Poetry Quickfire

Tied to The Track

Rumble right through me
as I strain against the rope
that tightens and strangles
with minutes crashing down.

Silent actress held in place
as I feel the vibration
that taunts and reminds
with distress building up.

Train hostage will phoenix
as I absorb the fear
that revs and startles
with intensity and quiet.

Thoughts can grab hope
as I declare against inaction
that stifles and snuffs
with ice and fire.

Hear that clicking reel
as I stand in black and white
that frames and considers
with ropes falling off.


For this poetry quickfire, I thought about those silent film heroines tied to the train track feeling helpless. Some days with the job hunt, I feel helpless, but most days I strain at those ropes. I tell my husband, "Let's keep fighting." Now I'm starting to hum the Rocky theme!

Hope all is well with everyone :) Thanks for reading!

Poetry Quickfire

To Cool the Soul

Convinced that a memory of sensation will pry
free the strangle hold parching my will,
I stop the stir of the pot and guarding of the time
as I dream to gather rain and flood me.

Determined to absorb that rushing downpour
deep into my veins and wring out my burden,
I place my worn hands on the crying window
as I ache to empty me and rain dance.

Back on the poetry quickfire bandwagon again. As I'm trying to get this poem out, I'm telling two of my children to please let Mama have "her time." It's challenging sometimes to let that whole poetic me come out to "play" when the kids are pushing for the everyday me to get this or that. Hope this poem makes some sense. It feels rough, but you know what? So do I right now. Can you tell that the kids are home very early these days? LOL. Two more days until summer vacation. Am I ready? Watch out for that next downpour, I may be very tempted to dance a little on my deck :)

Poetry Quickfire

Patching the Now

Designed by a day of almost,
as dream slipped in pockets.

Tired spirit hunched over,
as fingers opened to catch.

Unraveled stitches mocked
as worry latched to the fading.

Flashed by static images,
as slumber tossed the will.

Staggered by morning light,
as waking sewed the possible.

My poetic moment must end. Four kids are lining up in front of me saying, "Mom, where's the pasta?" Duty calls.

Hope to visit you all later tonight :)

Poetry Quickfire

What hits me poetically during lunchtime...

It's funny how I think of these quickfires at lunch. It's my quickest meal of the day. When I try to give myself some longer poetic inspiration time, I hear my husband's favorite phrase repeating in my mind, "I got nothin'!" I guess I'll just "go poetic" whenever I can. Thanks for reading!


Plug In

Push myself into a space
where I can jolt with life.

Shuffle today around a view
where I can pulse with air.

Chisel worth out of now
where I can shock with truth.

Extend frame to fit self
where I can power with real.

Well, as I sit here finishing my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I laugh to myself thinking about this poetic attempt at self-empowerment. I should be writing a poem about will power since I'm going to head over to the pantry to get the HUGE cookie waiting for me :)

Poetry Quickfire

Step Forward

Caribbean blue unrivaled,
paraded through her mind
as the quiet apprentice
wrapped her shoulders gently
with yards of that vibrancy.

Midnight chill folded,
surrendered to her light
as the hesitant visionary
penciled her garment lines
with only the slightest tremble.

I could have named this one, "A Designer is Born." :) Today's bus stop poetry inspiration came from my excitement about Project Runway. I admire the creativity and vision of fashion designers. I thought it would be interesting to write a poem exploring that moment when a designer decides to step into the spotlight and create.

Thanks for reading.

Poetry Quickfire

Rumbling

Sometimes the quiet
pushes the battle forward.
That observant sentinel
forced to be mute.

Sometimes the familiar
bombards the hostage truth.
That ordinary regiment
demanded the usual salute.

Sometimes the living
releases the freedom cry.
That faltering surrender
raised the flag of truce.

I penned this poem while waiting at the bus stop this afternoon. I recently saw a movie about that painful silence which can plague a marriage. I guess that's what triggered this poem. Thanks for reading.

Poetry Quickfire

Queen of the Big Top

Quick change of focus as tasks line up.
Zip through the canned responses.
Stepping with care on the line.
Eyes fixed away from the drop.

Touch of sequins may jazz the day.
Mama jumbles through rehearsed act.
One woman show can avalanche.
Family troupe aches to applaud.


Some days I feel like a high wire performer trying to balance the family load on my shoulders as I step gingerly through the day. As many of us know, it's tough to keep that smile all the time when you feel overwhelmed. However, families need the show to go on. I want to keep our happy little circus running. My kids know how to keep me on my toes with new demands on my balance, patience, creativity, and stamina. Good thing I have my chocolate power boost moments.

Wonder if I should make my own sequined mama circus outfit? Now that's something I could make with that bedazzler machine :)

Poetry Quickfire: It's National Poetry Month!!

All day, I was trying to find just the right inspiration for my first poem for National Poetry Month. Lucky for me that my lovely daughter with chalk smudged cheeks brought me by the hand to see her "big girl" drawings on the driveway.


Look At Me

Cradle that burst of smile
shining with phoenix promise
as small hands do the Picasso
to glimpse her pretty world.

Embrace that regal display
curtsying with princess pride
as sharp eyes place that detail
to unearth her colorful ways.


You have to go over and visit my friend, bel, over at The Itsy Bitsy Monkey. Her wonderful wit and creativity are always evident in her posts. Bel invites everyone to jump into the poet's chair and write poetry during April. It will be fun :)

Poetry quickfire

Folding Up Within

Tower's roof reflects the faintest light
on my labor as I type this word.

Solitary builder can be the poet
with words to barricade me away.

Audience grab hold of my verse
as I call out from my fortress.

Shaky self balances
when the right words mesh.

Connected self stretches
hand through crumbling window.

This is a first! Back to back poetry quickfires. I felt compelled to write this one because I'm wondering about whether my poetry holds too much of me away from the world. I don't even know if I'm "getting" what I'm saying right now. I love to write poetry, but I think I may try my hand at fiction writing for awhile. Sometimes poetry makes me feel cut off from my reader. I do love that poetry is kind of a self dialogue for me. I also appreciate and gain inspiration from knowing that many of my readers find personal connections in my poetry. I just wonder if I need to really jump out there and try a new way of opening myself up through words. What do you think?

Maybe I'm just stir crazy today home with the kids on this snow day :) Sometimes my mind wanders in all sorts of directions! Thank you for reading.

Poetry quickfire

The Push of the Walk

Ninety seconds into the briskness
my mind won't admit the weary.

Possessive of my solo jaunt
I want to wrestle that fatigue.

February air accelerates the stride
as I ignore the tired ache.

Energy flows through the mighty soul
my body concedes to the expected.

I'm literally off to the bus stop right now! Do you see how much I love that little walk?

Poetry quickfire

Discovered

Surreal to be sitting
on this afternoon pedestal
as the air rests quietly
hushed to perfect posture.

Daring to accept oneself
on a higher plane of worth
as the brush moves tenderly
awakened to hinted beauty.

When looking at paintings, I'm often drawn to portraits. I wanted to do a poem exploring that personal sense of elevation felt by the portrait model. When you look at portraits of women throughout history, the painter does seem to know what makes his subject shine within.

Renoir - "Tilla Durieux"

Poetry Quickfire

Expedition

Blow the dust off my jar
pushed way back in my cave
where a small flame
may light a twisted path
scraped into real
with teaspoons of years.

Squint back to day
waiting to gently touch earth
when a ray of hope
may center a divided focus
opened into now
with whispers of steps.

Instead of making dinner right now, I had to write this poem. My poems often just hit me unexpectedly. I like having my poetry quickfires as a place to put them down. Later, I'll sit back and try to absorb what I needed to say here. No editing, just "feeling" it to see if the words sit right. Thanks for going along for the ride with me :)

Hubby should be arriving within 10 minutes. Off to the stove I go!!