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Writing.Com Item ID: #1299760
Title: August & September 2007 Poems
Item Type: Book
Brief: A poetry exercise for the month of August.
Last Modified: 09-21-2007 @ 4:51am
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I'm placing this month's poems here and leaving them open to comment, not because I think my first drafts are great poetry, but because I believe in the value of another view. Sometimes I get stuck in a certain track and miss a good opportunity to develop a better poem and to develop my writing abilities.
So comment away! Tell me what particularly grabs you and what leaves you cold --and why is always helpful. Tell me if it feels like a whole poem or merely part of a poem (whether "finished" or not). If it's incomplete, where do you see it going.
Go ahead and be harsh, but kindly so, please. Also please don't rewrite anything for me. Instead, suggest the type of change, different images, words, meter, rhyme (or no rhyme), etc.
I will return a review/comment for all I receive, but be warned, 
even in poetry I take a strong "show don't tell" stance.
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Writing.Com Entry Id: #525170
Chapter/Entry Title: August 1 - Untitled
Last Modified: 08-01-2007 @ 3:48pm
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first draft
The moon hangs low on the eastern horizon
where the pines and cedars stand tall and erect.
Darkness had saturated the evening sky
creeping in unnoticed 'til it ruled the night.
But even at night the darkness cannot rule
forever. Lady Luna brought us her light
and now hangs low on the eastern horizon.
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Writing.Com Entry Id: #525396
Chapter/Entry Title: August 2 - untitled
Last Modified: 08-02-2007 @ 4:04pm
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first draft
December's long-gone cold rains
are but a memory
in the heat of August's sun.
Sweat and humidity
are not like the cold rain
of winter, but still, I
I prefer the August heat to
the cold of December.
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Writing.Com Entry Id: #528393
Chapter/Entry Title: The Move
Last Modified: 08-19-2007 @ 2:39am
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This is mostly a first draft written today (08/15/07). I made a few minor edits, but I imagine it needs more.
The Move
A truck's filled with everything
collected in his lifetime.
The sun is low in the sky
as he drives away, alone
except for his cat, Ruby.
It's not the first time he's left
to make his way somewhere else,
but this time he won't be back
other than to visit and
let us know his successes.
There will be many to come.
Mother's instinct tells me this,
just as it tells me now "Rest."
Merely a truck filled with things
and his little cat, Ruby --
and a precious piece of my
heart, independent and free.
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Writing.Com Entry Id: #528398
Chapter/Entry Title: August
Last Modified: 08-19-2007 @ 2:49am
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Go ahead and be brutal with this one. At the moment I can't see what's wrong with it. I don't like how it turned out, although I really like the concept.
a first draft written today (08/15/07)
August
The red tomatoes have multiplied
on the vine and on the counter.
Pears and apples are ready now,
ripe to pick, or fall to the ground.
The earliest, drought sensitive
trees have started to show color.
Evening shadows are longer, too.
The smell of sunbaked soil lingers
into the cool evenings. The sun
waits a bit longer to get up.
My mind starts racing ahead to
autumn's cooler days, warm colors
wanting to keep summer longer.
Echoes of spring reverberate in
the dew at night. All prepares me
for the empty barren winter.
August is a bittersweet
reflection of a lifetime.
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Writing.Com Entry Id: #530036
Chapter/Entry Title: Dance
Last Modified: 08-23-2007 @ 12:18am
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A line comes to my mind. It makes no sense but won't go away. Since I can't think of what else to write at the moment, I write it down. What follows is a free association, first draft poem.
Dance
Words dance for me sometimes.
What this means, I don't know.
It's not as if they move
in circles or jump up
and down. Something about
meaning, more than likely.
Dancing homonyms and
synonyms, homophones,
words with many meanings,
sometimes unusual
or little known words grace
my pen's in on paper.
Most often it's about
piercing a heart, maybe
reaching into a mind,
changing the way you are
in the smallest way.
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Writing.Com Entry Id: #536632
Chapter/Entry Title: A Life Poorly Lived
Last Modified: 09-21-2007 @ 5:09am
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A Sestina-- first draft
I've never done forms, except for an occasional haiku, but I've been thinking I should try some. I just learned what a sestina is when my son had to do one for his creative writing class this week. A good example (about my hometown!) with a explanation can be found here: http://www.uni.edu/~gotera/CraftOfPoetry/sestina.html .
I don't think this is very good, but I had fun with it.
A Life Poorly Lived
I wait alone in my room
and hope for great things in my life,
but merely sitting still in my chair,
keeping as my only light
the one that shines on my book,
I find inertia has taken root.
What I need to do is root
out the darkness and make room
for growth. You could make book
on the pattern of my ordinary life.
When will I see the light
and get out of my chair?
What is it about this chair?
No, where I sit is not the root
of my problem. I'm becoming light-
headed, locked alone in my room.
Shadows are coming to life
like characters in a book.
I'll take a chance and book
a flight to Paris, or chair
a committee to investigate the quality of life
in Rome. Perhaps I'll just drink root
beer in Berlin, or maybe I'll room
with someone who has seen the light.
If I keep my luggage light
and be sure to pack a good book,
it's possible they'll have room
for me. I'll no longer sit in this chair.
I will have the time to root
for something worthwhile in life.
Somehow, I cannot, for the life
of me, follow the cause of some light
weight poet. I'll need to root
through the shelves to find the right book.
Then I can settle into my comfy chair
and read, alone in the silence of my room.
It seems the only life I have is in a book
or two that light beside the chair
where I take root, to die within this room.
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Writing.Com Entry Id: #536634
Chapter/Entry Title: A Silly Story
Last Modified: 09-21-2007 @ 9:50pm
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first draft
I find that sometimes the form sestina can inspire silliness as I search for (hopefully) innovative ways to reuse the same six words. That definitely was the case here.
A Silly Story
Once upon a time there was a man,
named Joe, who lived alone with his dog.
He rode to town upon his pinto horse.
At work he wielded a monkey
wrench. That night he visited a cat
house. In the morning, did he ever crow!
His neighbor, Bill, wanted to make Joe eat crow
for all the bluster of his morning he-man
routine. Joe deserved a cat-
o-nine tails. Bill decided to dog
Joe's every step to prove his monkey
shines. By dinner he could have eaten a horse.
Joe spent some time with friends in horse
play, but after a cawing crow
flew over head, he didn't want to monkey
around with his luck and said "Man,
I gotta go! It's been a long day and I'm dog
tired." In the dark, he didn't see the black cat
cross his path and continued to the cat
house in such a rush, he arrived with a charley horse.
Then, he waited an hour with only a dog
eared book of quotations while The Crow
played on the seldom seen TV. His little man
grew impatient. "What kind of monkey
business is this?" he bellowed. "What monkey
asks?" responded the proprietress, Cat.
To Bill, she said "'Twas he who man
handled poor Penny," as Joe sat back upon the horse
hair sofa. "And then he had the gall to crow
about her misfortune. He is a dog!"
So it was, Joe was confronted in the dog
days of summer, for grievous monkey
shines, the liberties he took and then did crow
about before his neighbor, Bill, whose wife, Cat,
sold potted plants from an old horse
trailer, and had her pretty young daughter man
the cash drawer. Penny had a cat and dog,
an organ grinder's monkey, and a fine old pinto horse.
And when she heard the rooster crow, she also had a man.