April 24, 2008

me thinks...

that the guy who is running the poetry challenge has a crush... on my poetry!

So far, 5 of my poems have been highlighted (and he is only on day 12). It is nice to have someone consider my poems as having worth. Or at least to know they tickled or touched another soul.

Thank you, Robert, for choosing my poems. Don't worry, I won't tell your wife that you have a crush!

April 17, 2008

hurry up...

For the last few days I've struggled to write poems. They just weren't coming. I poked, I prodded, but nothing happened except some new bruises.

But tonight, in the span of two hours, I pounded out four poems! I'm elated, even if they aren't the best. Two of them made me laugh, which makes them, in my opinion, worth the trouble. Here is the one for day 15 (an insult poem, which I had a horrid time writing, don't ask me why) and then one I wrote for CleanPlace's challenge of the week.

The Lowest Form

I've tried, in vain, to find words
to express the absolute hideousness
of you--but language is limited,
as is my time, and quite simply,
you are not worth
waxing poetic over--ever!
So I'll go with this--
You are
a stinky, baboon-faced shrimp,
sticking to the bottom
of my shoe.

(c) SDD 4/2008

This one is a form called a Cascade- I think you'll pick up how it works!

The Frog Prince

Chalk it up to a young girl’s dreams
of princes, castles, and fairytale endings—
How could I know frogs were slimy?

Promises of knights in sparkling armor
blinded my judgment—
Chalk it up to a young girl’s dreams.

I heard your words filtered
through the stories I read
of princes, castles, and fairytale endings.

I wanted a first kiss—
waited for the transformation—
How could I know frogs were slimy?

(c) SDD 4/2008

Leave me a comment, let me know what you think!

April 13, 2008

the muse awakens...

I haven't posted a poem in a week, but I've been writing them. A few of them were *gasp* uninspired, so I'm not posting those. My muse (who was featured in day two) is somewhat of a diva and only shows up when she feels like it. Thankfully, I've learned to work without her when needed!

I rather like today's poem. The prompt was to write a poem inspired by a song. While most people picked songs with lyrics, I had to go and be different (don't act shocked, you aren't a bit surprized) and pick a song without words. I did this largely because I often feel that writing a poem about other poetry is a bit like cheating.

The song I chose is one that I recently have fallen in love with on Pandora. I have a station called "Rocket it the Moon" that is based off the Jim Brickman song of that name. I love to listen to this station while I write because it is all instruments--no words to distract me! The song I chose (and really, I could have picked any one because it wasn't so much the particular song, but the fact it is all piano music that inspired me) is called Ridin' West by Jon Schmidt. Here's my poem...

Ridin’ West

I stare up at the underside
of your baby grand piano
as your fingers draw sweet notes
from black-tie keys.

Close my eyes, sink into the melody
as my fingers dig into the thick carpet.

This is my favorite place to be—
at your feet, under the spell
of the music you release.

The notes linger and you lean down—
checking to see how I weathered
the cacophony of your love.

(c) SDD 4/2008

April 12, 2008

(don't tell...)

...but today is my 30th birthday!

(and in other news, my poem for day 4 was featured as a highlight... I'm so tickled!)

April 9, 2008


I'm so tickled to see that my Muse poem was selected as a highlight of day two in the Poem-A-Day challenge (by the blog author). Miss Pottenger's poem was also selected. We are slowly becoming famous!

I need to write a poem for yesterday's prompt. I saw it, but it was rather late and I wasn't inspired, so I'm letting it stew for a while. That's a drawback to this challenge, it makes you feel so much pressure to write in that moment, and sometimes poetry needs time. But I'm not feeling rushed. The poem will come. It might be very bad when it does, but that's okay. (By the way, I'm not going to post all my poems here, because some of them are bad!)

Well, just wanted to gloat for a moment. And did I mention that I was recently published? Check it out: Boston Literary Magazine. Leave me a comment and let me know how you like them!

April 6, 2008

the worry wart...

The topic for yesterday's poem challenge was worry. Well, I've spent a long time teaching myself NOT to worry, so nothing immediately popped into my mind as a subject (I think that's a good thing, but no, I'm not perfect, as shown by the hiccups I got 5 times since last night, the sort triggered by worry, go figure!). Anyway, I finally found something to write about, which is the sort of "why bother" approach to live. It strikes me as funny, but there are people out there who are immobilized by such fear, and that is sad. Now I'm rambling... forgive me. I'll shut up now. Here's the poem...

The Progression

I cannot leave the house today,
for if I do, I might trip
over the welcome mat
and break my foot.
That would require a visit
to the emergency room
and probably a cast,
not to mention a needle
for the I.V., (I’m breaking out
in hives just thinking about it!)
and I won’t make it to work.
The eventual ramification
of my fall
will be the loss of my job,
followed closely by car,
house and sanity.
How much safer to remain
in the pillow-topped kingdom—
warm, settled and moments
from dreamland—than to risk
stepping out the front door.

Call my boss,
tell her I’m sick
with worry.

(c) SDD 4/08

April 5, 2008

greedy places and smiling faces...

Jodi Picoult came to Denver on April 3rd. Miss Pottenger, her mother and I went to hear Jodi read and to get books signed. When we got to The Tattered Cover (which has hosted the event for at least the last 4 years), we were told we had to have a ticket to get a book signed. The only way to buy a ticket was to purchase a $27 book (hardcover of Jodi's latest). Well, Miss Pottenger already had a copy and I won't buy hardbacks since all my others are softcovers--so we decide we don't need to get books signed. The staff says we can wait in line for the reading and not get a ticket since we are skipping the whole signing.

Then, after 2 hours of sitting on the floor (we were the first in line), another staff member tells us we need tickets to sit. I almost decked her on the spot. She finally gave in and let us go sit.

Jodi made up for it by delivering a great reading and there were several new questions that we got to hear answers for, so overall, it ended on a good note. But I'm furious with Tattered Cover for getting greedy. By requiring the purchase of a particular book, they force you to a) buy that style and at their price (which is never discounted) and b) they took away one of the two reasons for getting there early (to be first in the signing line as well as to sit) and c) they made it almost impossible for those coming from out-of-state to attend because of their lack of publicity about all the changes they made. I mean, people drive from Nebraska, Nevada and Kansas to hear Jodi--and to drive all that way and not get a seat would infuriate me.

So I'm composing a scathing letter to little independent bookstore about how their greed is hurting them. I have no problem buying a ticket but don't make me buy a book to get a "free" ticket--and get your story straight so I don't waste hours sitting on the floor in your shop. Make a way for people who want to attend to be able to attend and reward those who show up early.

Anyway, as you can tell, this is a bee in my bonnet. The poetry prompt for Thursday didn't help. it was simply to write a haiku. I write lots of haiku--I need subjects not forms. I wrote one, but it is overly uninspired, so I'm not posting it. The prompt for yesterday was better--write about something you are thankful for. Here's my poem...

The Throne

You spend your hours
tucked away in a space
no one will call by name—
the john, the powder room,
the water closet—there you sit,
never complaining
about the lot given to you.
Sparkling white outside holds
swirling blue water,
covered by a wood-grain lid.
Always there when nature calls.
I think of your counterparts
around the world—holes
in the ground, the backside
of bushes. No porcelain thrones
in the African desert,
only imitations at the ruins
in Peru.

I’m so very glad you are here—
I flush you just to hear the sound.

(c) SDD 4/2008

April 2, 2008

someone else's skin...

The challenge for today was to write from the point of view of someone or something else... here is my poem.


At three p.m. I push back
the silk eye mask that shelters
my delicate eyes from harsh daylight.
I’ve left my charge to wade
the early hours of the day
alone, unguided, uninspired.
After a quick tossle
of my auburn curls,
I start my daily stretching
routine—poke the fantasy
still ten chapters away from completion,
poke the short story idea
she still hasn’t put to paper, poke
the poem, the one about the plum,
that she just can’t figure out.

My workout complete, I lounge
on a velvet chaise and eat cold grapes
until she calls for my aid.
I sip wine as she pounds
her head and the keyboard—
a slave to my whims.

(c) SDD 4/2008

April 1, 2008

national what?

April is National Poetry Month. This is one month I can cheer for, promote and encourage. Go April! (It helps that April is also my birthday month, but we'll talk about that later.)

Tonight, sitting snugly in our second-favorite booth at Panera, Miss Pottenger stumbled upon a poetry challenge being issued by Writer's Digest. The challenge is to write a poem each day in April using provided prompts. We took it.

The first prompt was to write a poem about firsts/beginnings. I scanned a few of the offerings (you can post your poem in the comments on the blog) and then picked a first I thought would be unique. Here is my "first" poem...


Painless is not the word
you want to hear from the one
holding a needle above your vein,
because so often they lie.
The prick, the trespass under my skin
to take the red gushing liquid
that keeps me going, stings.
I watch my blood travel
away from me, so unnatural.
I move away from the world,
letting the room go black—
staring at the edges, creeping
to the center. My eyes betray my journey
and someone comes to rescue me.
A prince in blue scrubs lifts my feet
into the air to keep me from fainting—
I though he should have caught me.

(c)SDD 2008

You can check out the challenge here. I'll be trying for one each day. Join me!