Promptless - by Rand

Apparently

March hath

thirty-one

Fear of a Black Planet - by Rand (prompt = quick)

"It mixes lickity split
and stays mixed!"

Quick - by Debbie

I regret
the words I sent
in haste, for now
the meaning's bent
into a shape
and awkward size
that I no longer
recognize.

===============

From Debbie:
Ok, I'm starting to using a Kitchen Timer app on my iPad to make sure I don't cheat and go over 5 minutes.

Anyone else have an instapoem to share? Feel free to post below.

Statue - by Debbie

I can't look away
from that blank stare,
sightless with knowledge
and true despair.

I can't look away,
not even to prove
that an angel unwatched
will -always- move.

I can't look away
but do think it's true
I've overdosed
on Dr. Who.

---------------------------------------

Ok, I'm a nerd! This poem was inspired by a Dr. Who episode: "Blink."  One of the scariest things I've ever seen on tv.

And I know I'm waaaaaaay behind in Instapoems! Will try to catch up over the next couple days.
Timer set for 5 minutes.

Statue - by Rand

Somehow he looks
even more helpless
and vulnerable nailed
to a horizontal cross

We all approach him
with the proper sense
of caution and reverence

I steel myself and find
the courage to touch
an impossibly solid toe
before sliding my finger
up to caress the nail

Later Timmy returns
to lean down and kiss
his unyielding granite lips

Strike - by Rand

What happens
after the third
Major League
Baseball strike?

How is a walkout
neither a walk
nor an out?

Enemy - by Rand

Hopefully my colorful costume

and overwritten monologue

will keep you from noticing

that my motivation is weak

Different - by Rand

Powder crud crust slush

graupel rime ice

Seven different words for snow

when one ought to suffice

Staring out the window

with my lover, hand in hand

Trying to convince her

it's a Winter Wonderland

Poetry on the Radio - by Rand

Warning: "Ceci n'est pas une poem."

I recently had the pleasure of being a guest on Burnham and Dodge's Art Hour over at Think Twice Radio. The topic of discussion was, of course, poetry. My fellow guest was Michael Basinski, poet and curator of the Univerisity at Buffalo's Poetry Collection.

It was, to quote our host, "a raucous, albeit obfuscatory conversation."

http://tinyurl.com/69lhr9n

The episode in question is dated 3/9/11 and titled:

Eating poetry, Rumi, films about librarians, instapoems, and nether snaps

Enjoy!

Rand

Culture - by Rand

What is it that we leave behind?
What can be honored
and what must be
forgiven?

And who's steering this ship?

Do the people make the society
or does the society make
the people?

Who should be praised
and who can we
blame?

Bore - by Rand

She muttered, "What a bore"
and I immediately thought of
four possible interpretations:

i. the obvious one

Someone wasn't interesting

ii. lord of the flies

Viewing a large wild pig

iii. 8th grade shop class

A well-drilled hole

iv. visiting South Africa

An impressive Afrikaner

Toddler - by Rand

You tell me I have patience

as I pick up a wet and

screaming mound

I don't think of it as patience

but rather empathy

and memory

On The Power Of A Toddler's Smile - by Debbie

Word prompt: "toddler"

Box - by Debbie

Why do you have
a box on your head?
Are you ugly?
Are you dead?

Perhaps you committed
horrendous crimes?
Or did you write
a poem that...RHYMES?

Box - by Rand

Give me one that's sturdy
Geometrically pleasing
Smooth straight lines
and sharp right angles

And Spartan is just fine
Form following function
No elaborate color or design

But what kind of box is this?
Am I pleased that it's mine?
Presently, what hides inside?
Is it made of -- or under -- pine?

Unrelated - by Debbie

It was years before I realized
that what you said you wanted
was true
but only when you said it.

Unrelated - by Rand

In the midst of our conversation
I forgot what we were talking about

You asked me a probing question
that I could not possibly answer
because I was thinking of
an entirely unrelated thing

My uncle, as it turned out

Long - by Debbie

 

Oh give me a song

that's much too long

but has some style

and makes me smile.

Long - by Rand

It's wrong

to long

too long

Kiss - by Debbie

No fireworks explode
No bands play
No Cupids hover
as they did in the beginning

and yet

when we kiss

the joy wraps around us,
and holds us fast.

Nothing else matters:
not the fireworks
the bands
the fat flying cherubs.

You are the truth of me, my love.

Kiss - by Rand

When you're in second grade

superheroes with guitars

pretty much tops the list of

Coolest Things You Can Imagine

For my 8th birthday I asked for

a copy of Kiss Alive II and --

as I had to constantly remind

my teenage self -- my parents

were cool/irresponsible

enough to get it for me

And lest you think I was a

hip and rebellious 7 year old

the other present requested and

received was Barry Manilow Live

Dig - by Rand

She asked me
if I'd prefer to be
buried or burned

Buried or burned?
With no hope of return?
(or simply turn to avoid
burn, as in rotisserie)

I said Neither inside
but finally replied
that I'd been burned
before -- and survived

but hastened rather sad
to add Adrian said it best
Dig me, but don't bury me

Dig - by Debbie

BONES

Don't use a trowel,
you always said.
Better to dig
with your hands, to feel
the bones of the earth,
to know where it all comes from.

Now the years
have swallowed you whole
and I'm digging here alone
(still without a trowel),
looking for the bones,
knowing that somewhere
you're kneeling there beside me,
making sure I'm doing it right.

Letter - by Debbie

"A"

Though brought from cloth,
it chains me.

Touches no skin,
yet burns like the hell fire
they think I deserve.

It is my burden
and my hero's scar.

My name on their lips
is a prayer
and a curse:

"Hester."

Letter - by Rand

Her letter
was lettered
with letters
Who let her?

* * *

Held to the letter
he was a letterer
who lettered
in belles-lettres

Lie - by Debbie

Of all the lies,
the one I hate the most
is time.

Lie - by Rand

i.

I said,
"Come
lie with
me." She
misunderstood.

ii.

An eye
for a lie
and a tooth
for the truth

Impressed - by Rand

Your
impression
left quite
an impression

Impressed - by Debbie

I confess
I am impressed
by your mastery
of poetic style:
how you caress
each word, express
absurdity
without guile.

But a question (I can't resist):
Can you bend your arm like THIS?

Promise - by Debbie

Your promise
hangs heavy in this light,
I know. We'll wait
until the words fade
into inevitable
regret

and then we'll be done.

Promise - by Rand

Soap bubble promises
bursting in the summer sun
as children laugh and run
through water hose rainbows

Dogs chase your promises
Freeze-frame moment shows
impossibly round perfection
inside massive canine jaws

The camera flashes
and the bubble bursts

Broom - by Debbie

Just great.

I'm late
for the claiming
and now so little's left
in this dusty room.

It's fate,
I suppose, that
dear Auntie's bequest
lies in this ratty broom.

She never did like me
She never did approve

But wait

Is it my imagination,
or did that broom just -move-?

Broom - by Rand

I watched you waiting

silently in the corner

Another evening wasted

Trashed

I could sweep you off your

feet but I abstain. I refuse

to become a common rake

Dusty

When - by Debbie

When the light
comes to claim me,
I hope for good music
and fine, dark chocolate
waiting at the other end
as my friends share
silly stories and
finish with a song.

When - by Rand

You

Us

Here

???

Because

Deal - by Debbie

His teeth blind me
as he crooned his promise
but still I hesitate.

"You won't regret it,"
he urges, and slides
the document toward me.

The air around us
stills and waits.

Beneath my fingers,
the paper shifts
like a living thing
but before I can draw back,
sharp pain blossoms.

Looking down,
I see the red flower
spreading on the dotted line
beside his signature.

"Deal," he says,
then looks at me.
"Say it."

The pain in my hand fades
and I finally meet his eyes.

"Deal," I say.

And so it begins.

Just Deal - by Rand

A feeble attempt at consolation
The plea of an annoyed poker player
An honest exchange of goods or services
A live-action Saturday morning NBC show

The Monkey House - by Debbie

(Word prompt: "Monkey")
It creeps me out,
the Monkey House.

It's not the smell
or the din of their cries
in the cramped and humid space.

It's the way the one
in the corner stares at me
behind the bars,
with the eyes of
a trapped child.

Monkey - by Rand (for Russell Edson, with a touch of James Tate on the side)

Haven't we said enough
about monkeys?

Not to say that there
isn't a lot to talk about

it's just that we've already
said so much -- too much

Whether we're teaching
apes to write poems or

trading in the family's
old steam monkey for the

more stylish electric model
or dressing them up in space

suits I'm just saying that I'm
damn sick of ape every night.

Wrong - by Rand

My poetry is an
elaborate attempt
to write my wrongs

Wrong - by Debbie

(Word prompt: "Wrong")

Have you ever spent way too long
in front of the screen
baffled by a word
once perfect
but now awkward,
either bloated with cliché or
just intimidated by its neighbors?

Me neither.

Fire - by Rand

It was a silly argument
Years passed with their
predictable ups and downs

but no matter how good
things were it remained
This barrier between us

I don't care what you
think you hear and I
know it's petty but

to this day I insist
that Michael isn't
singing for you

Everything - by Rand

You've done wrong
Right is wrong again
As the ladies line
their eyes

Changes
Had changed
Has changed
Is broken
Is everything
Is gonna be alright

Reminds me of her
Means nothing to me

Inside of you that
you wish you could be

Think I know
what's happening
Even think that
I can sing

What about aeroplanes?

Everything - by Debbie

White - by Rand

.

White - by Debbie

Under-appreciated,
WHITE smooths her skirts
and suffers each cliché
with bared teeth.

She'll show them all,
she will.
For now, though,
she waits for the party
to finish and her turn
to begin.

Found - by Debbie

Found - by Rand

Just because you
know where I am
doesn't mean
I'm not lost

Fear - by Debbie

My biggest fear:

that someday

I'll stop

being afraid.

Fear - by Rand

7: The monster in the basement

9: Sharks

12: Never being understood or taken seriously

13: School bus erections

15: Becoming overwhelmed by my emotions

17: Dying before the last issue of Watchmen came out

20: Not having access to my emotions

22: Getting drafted

24: Quality cookware

27: Not having enough faith

30: 40

32: Having wasted my twenties

38: The Peter Principle

42: Having too much faith

Bangs - by Debbie

I've given up
trying to imagine
what my neighbours do
every Saturday night
that shakes the walls so
(and no, it's not what you think).

Bangs - by Rand

When I think of 70s hairstyles
my mind is cast adrift
in a sea of goody combs
and carefully feathered locks

Nonetheless, when I hear
the word "bangs" I'm shot
back to the land of
Bradys, bundt cakes
and "Billy, Don't Be a Hero"

Core - by Debbie

You carved away
flesh and guile
to see what lay
beneath my skin.
I thought you'd run
but you just smiled,
waiting for me
to let you in.

Core - by Rand

It was the center
The true essence
The most important
part of me

But you were more
interested in the appearance
and taste

You took what you
needed and cast
the rest aside

Footsteps - by Debbie

Angling across the white,
your footsteps track the scars
then disappear.

Footsteps - by Rand

Forget cups and fractions
The only true measure of
the kind of person we are
is whether we hear the footsteps
coming toward us or away from us