floating and leaving no trace
the night sky makes a sound
a two voice choir singing
a growl of cars on the freeway
the belching of a jet
invisible overhead somewhere
between black
star-isolating expanses
it is the same sound i hear
in my head
one ear roaring
the other ringing
the darkness similar
only not so big
but bigger
can you really say
that the stars have no influence
over your life?….
——
My poem she was tuesday’s child is available to read at the Tupelo 30/30 project page. Today’s poem is brought to you courtesy of a SPONSORED title from D. Ellis Phelps of FORMIDABLE WOMAN SANCTUARY. Also, today is her birthday!
Happy Birthday, D!
i am stretched thin as a hair
speak to me and i vibrate
a single guitar string
in the cosmos
tying star to star
humming one note
if i were more
i would be a minor chord
complete and harmonious
yet melancholy even among
the celestial furnaces
stretched thin as a hair
tying star to star
if a fuse
i would burn
my embers meeting
in the middle of all things
these stars are not your stars
you look elsewhere for light
now you are laughing, smiling
you eyes are lit from within
here the sky darkens later
it is the same darkness
——
image courtesy of DominiksPhotos
when the world was new
and the sky was still
a thing of darkness
the animals strove to
fill it up with light
the lion
climbed the highest tree
filling the air with
the thunder of his roar
he became the sun
the fox
curled into a circle
near a lake where
her reflection blurred
and she became the moon
while the cat and the snake
argued over who would accompany
the fox in her nightly journeys
they did not see the finch
pluck hair from the lion’s mane
from the fox’s tail
and scatter them
through the darkness
weaving
the shuttle moves and clacks
all the strands are the same color
save one
a single red thread
a thick as a threat
dark as blood
never pumped by human heart
the weaver
swears there is a pattern
though the skeins
seem all the same
colorless as dun
against the heath
the hands move
the threads move
save one
that wraps around stars
that wraps around us
my dad used to tell me
that if you dug a hole
deep enough
you could look up
and see the stars
but he was wrong
so much of what he
had to say
what he said
or felt compelled
to pass on
was wrong
but he did give me a telescope
i held onto until my own kids
were old to look through it
and we tried to draw down the moon
white and tear-inducing
into an eyepiece
impossible to look into
without shaking
the telescope
the rain sparkled
as it fell
lights dripping
out of the sky
miniature stars
and short-lived suns
that flashed
and were gone
before hitting the earth
the grass
the asphalt
I missed day two of #NaPoWriMo, and also I wasn’t that happy with my dialogue poem of yesterday (here if you want to read it–it’s kind of a downer). But here’s a poem that fulfills the dialogue prompt and also the prompt from day two, which is as follows:
And now, our (as always, optional) prompt, provided to us by NaPoWriMo participant Carla Jones. Today, I challenge you to take your gaze upward, and write a poem about the stars. You may find inspiration in this website that lists constellations, while also providing information on the myths associated with each one, as well as other salient information. Your poem could be informed by those myths or historical details, by the shapes or names of the constellations, or by childhood memories of seeing them. Any form or style will do.
—–
i say, roll over onto your stomach
pretend you’re going to get a massage
and like those women in the brochures
put your hands under your face
turn your face to the side
and smile
you say, those brochures are bullshit
it feels great after the massage
but during
it hurts like hell
fingers driving into your muscles
trying to split the fibers apart
imagine doing that to a roast
with your bare hands
i say, just do it, and let your hair
cascade down. i want to draw
on the small of your back
you ask, what do you want to draw?
nothing embarrassing
nothing in ink
i say, no, no, i’m just going
to use my finger
i’m going to draw the night sky on your back
in the hollow curve
just above your tailbone
i’ll only include the stars
with better names
sirius, procyon, rigel, and betelgeuse
castor, pollux, and deneb
altair, antares, and arcturus
none of the stars with only letters and numbers
for names
i don’t want designations.
i want them all to have names
you feel my finger tracing a spiral
stopping and dropping a star with each
name
you say, this is going to take awhile, isn’t it?
why not draw the universe while you’re at it?
i feel you sinking into the bed
the weight of all those stars
pushing you down
you’ve put your hands under your face
your hair spills down and
you turn your face to the side and smile
like the women in those brochures
i’m not that ambitious, i say
adding a thousand more stars
making up names as i go
i fell through darkness into
deeper darkness
striking the earth with my back
splitting the ground
and splitting my bones
the darkness covered me
my breathing grew ragged
and my pulse faint
until the angels came
they breathed into my mouth
and my lungs filled with fire
they poured water over my wounds
and the black charred husk
washed away from my skin
and i could see the stars
turning and singing
and was happy for the darkness
Words and Feathers 