August Open Mic–First Call

First call for the monthly Open Mic Invitation. I’ve been asked to maybe put up a little How-To on recording and posting your audio. I’ll definitely do that later, but for now, the initial call must be made.

Join the thundering herd of vocal poets whose voices WILL NOT BE SILENCED. Or just share something fun with the rest of the poetry community here on WordPress. See below for the general guidelines.

And don’t feel limited to entering only once. Fill up this page with your melodic metrical musings.

DON’T MAKE ME USE ASSONANCE A SECOND TIME.


Here are the steps you need to take (reduced to three for a limited time):

  1. Record yourself reading one of your own works.
  2. Post it on your site (or Soundcloud or any other audio hosting site).
  3. Include a link to this post in your post;
    OR comment below;
    OR send me a message using the contact form.

I will post a link with your name and poem title RIGHT HERE and on the Open Mic page (it’s above in the menu).

Remember, it’s an open mic invitation. NOT a challenge.

Also, if you can think of a way to improve the format, I’m all ears.


******

Poet Rummager (you know, the fabulous Rose)
50 Word Story: In the Distance

******

Pleasant Street
I THOUGHT DEATH HAD BETTER MANNERS

******

crow
these are the angels (audio)

******

crow
carousel (audio)

******

Poet Rummager (you know, the fabulous Rose)
Obsession

******

crow
summerless blood (audio)
summerless blood (poem)

******

sonnet agley (20160825)

i don’t want to know how things are going
not with you–not with your resurrected life
i have little interest in knowing
if you’ve given your hair up to the knife

i can’t scrape up the enthusiasm
to hear you talk about your latest trip
once i thought it was because the chasm
widens–a bridge of shoddy workmanship

but really all i can hear is white noise
i feel a constant pressure on my skin
‘neath water where leviathan enjoys
the dark saline fluidity of sin

sunk deeper than any of neptune’s pools
my leather heart blossoms in bleached spicules

reflections on walking the dog (20160824)

i’m afraid of the last time
i’m going to walk the dog
it’s not that he’s sick
mind you
he seems to be
in pretty good health
though he’s missing most of his teeth
and has more years on him than any dog
i’ve ever had

but it’s the not knowing the last walk
will be the last walk
that grinds its teeth
in my ear when i lean over to pet him
or wave the air frantically
because of his secret gas attack
so secret
that if it’s silent
he doesn’t even notice it

so i have to remind myself
to not get impatient
or tug at the leash
when he want’s to stop
and sniff ever message on our walk
i don’t want the last thing
i said to him to be
hurry up

swing (20160823)

swing
the pendulum in our chests
spine to sternum
swing
the throbbing behind our eyes
temple to temple
swing
the blood rushing in our veins
toes to earlobes
swing
the shadows on the cave wall
projections of the real world
swing
the tire on the rope
swing
the hour
swing
the jazz
swing

púca (20160822)

long-eared
dark-skinned
grass eater
speaking with a human tongue

what a frightful beast
under the moon
are your lips red with blood
or just the dew

i’ll give you a fine silk suit
if only you will help me
finish this bit of labor
though i know it is a sin to ask a boon

i think farmer mcgregor had best
be wary of you
and not take the offer of a ride
from a strange black horse

games for adults (20160821)

we could always play hide and seek
she says
though i know what it is she
wants to hide (her heart)
and what it is she really
wants me to seek (her approval)

but i’m game for anything
so i close my eyes
and begin to count

i don’t reach three
before she is gone
she doesn’t leave an echo
just a footprint on my chest

everybody’s happy (20160819)

these rooms overflow, voices ringing with laughter
i too let my voice, a small bell, ring with laughter

but it’s false and hollow in my ears, fakery
of the worst kind. they watch me, ringing with laughter

because they see inside, they smell the rot of me
their noses wrinkle, their throats catch, stifled laughter

ah, if only i could slip away unseen now
then they could resume, a profound choir of laughter

but i stay where i am, eyes on my back, my neck
cadaver cold, waiting for the end of laughter

——

for
Jane Dougherty Writes
Poetry Challenge: Gazahl