30 Poems in 30 Days

30 Poems in 30 Days
A Project for National Poetry Writing Month

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Day 24 -- Medieval Ekphrastic

So, I've gotten a bit behind this week, but here's the Day 24 draft of an ekphrastic poem in response to marginalia from a medieval manuscript:

Dragon Music

give me a lightning-spiked sky
and I scuttle under
demon dreams, wry prophesy
heart's blunder

give me a note, hatchet-shaped
hanging on a wire
I tongue that plea for 'scaped grace
in fiery choirs

oh my scales, spine-thorned
wretch, gold and blue
and thus adorned
is my love for you

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Day 23 -- Elevenie


drenches us
our whole city
shining, slouched, spring chilled

Day 22 -- Georgic

They That Wing the Liquid Air

When the rain came down in great shining walls
and the doves had settled beneath the eaves
whoo whooing the bride and groom
and thunder scuttled all other sound
we, in the pavilion, in our good clothes
thrummed, steadfast and joyful
among friends.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Day 21--Overheard Conversation

Okay...a day behind, but here it is:

To State the Obvious

To state the obvious: space is huge.
We need to get busy. We need to explore.

Why not a colony on Mars? We're
the Empire masking as Rebels.

The planet strikes back. Earth
strikes back. Can't you feel it?

Thunder like rockets launching.
The sound of doom.

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Day 20 -- Sporting


your badminton mouth

shuttlecock tongue

flung feathers

long day


Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Day 19 -- Creation Story

The Birth of the A Minor 7th

Once up there was a cave high up in those jagged cliffs above the sea.
A woman lived in the cave. No one knew how she came to be there,
so high up, so alone. No one asked. And at first, no one noticed
the note, how it rose from the foam alongside the moon, how
it arched its silvery way up, up, up reaching for the cave
to sound itself inside, to wrap round the woman tending
her fire.  No one heard the note bend and plummet until it returned
with the woman to the sea and made a harp of her.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Day 18 -- Neologism

What Would I Call You?

What would I call you if you came with longer ears
and blue-spotted skin, if you had silver eyes through
which you'd smell the world in living color? If you
had wrenches for fingers, oh handy man, and wheeled
toes? I'd still love you. I'd still call you darling.
Ah, me. The mother of convention.