floating and leaving no trace
the angel unfurls its wings
wings of a thousand thousand feathers
each a razor black with blood
they beat
space is cut
voices of shattered glass
fill the air
it turns my way and i am pierced
lacerated by its message
its wings seek my heart
it flays the living flesh
from my bones
leaving no human trace
not even
my name
this dragon shaped ink
–closing my eyes, i invite
it to breathe fire
——
RonovanWrites
Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt
Challenge #95 Dragon&Invite
So, I didn’t get a lot of people participating last month for the Open Mic invitation. And then it hit me. It was National Poetry Month and I was asking a bunch of poets who were tirelessly devoting themselves to making words stick to the page just so. What was I thinking? I should have known you’d be far too busy.
So, this is going to be a monthly thing. Each month, I will announce the opportunity for you to participate in the Open Mic. It is not a challenge. There are no rewards except getting to hear me sound ridiculous as I read my own poems (and maybe feel pretty good about how you nailed it.
Participate or I’ll have to post this every week. Every. Week.
——
Here are the steps you need to take:
Also, if you can think of a way to improve the format, I’m all ears.
It’s an Elder Gods thing. I wish people wouldn’t stare.
**Hey, two NEW entries! Now we’re talking. Get it? Talking?
******
Poet Rummager Counting Sheep
https://poetrummager.wordpress.com/2016/05/01/by-counting-sheep/
******
BRH Car Park Blues – Open Mic
https://supazubablog.wordpress.com/2016/05/01/car-park-blues-open-mic/
******
Crow on not ruining you–the words
on not ruining you (reading 20160509)
******
Poet Rummager Three Haiku Poem: Suck the Poison
https://poetrummager.wordpress.com/2016/05/25/three-haiku-poem-suck-the-poison/
when we meet again after a long time
i am convinced you have gone native
–as my dad would have said–
from living in a foreign country
even though
you’ve gone nowhere
distance becomes a function
of the passing of time
space itself an illusion when
divorced from the ticking clock
you open your mouth to speak
but all i hear is that place
between two radio stations
you have forgotten
how to use your own voice
you have forgotten
how to speak english
i’m sorry, i say, i don’t speak
knives anymore
i show you my scars
–now thick and no longer pink–
to prove it
——
i remember waking in my crib screaming
and holding a toy animal on my head
i remember being stung by a bee and my brother
putting a bandage on my finger
over the bee
i remember my sister launching me from her feet
and flying into the brickwork of the fireplace
striking just below my eye
i remember santa’s red suit one christmas eve
when i was supposed to be asleep but snuck out
of my room, catching him by the fireplace
i remember seeing the ghost of my grandmother’s
mother when i was supposed to be taking a nap
and my grandmother shushing me, though she saw her
pale faced in the doorway too
i remember collecting red ants barehanded
with my brother for an ant farm
and being stung again and again
i remember waking up to a bed shaking
beneath me and the guttural sounds of voices
in a room that was too dark to see clearly
but not too dark to see
i remember my mom’s small dog speaking to me
in plain english though i do not remember
what he said
——
I’ve done it again. I am hear here to assault your ears with my reading of a poem I wrote earlier this week for NaPoWriMo. You know, using titles certainly makes it easier to refer to the poems, and to find them in my list of links.
I’d tell you to enjoy, but that might be asking too much.
Don’t forget, the Open Mic invitation is still, uh, open. SO… get busy. Record, post, drop a comment here, and I’ll add your link to the main sticky post. Let your voice live forever, just like mine will.
One of us. One of us.
Crow let us go (Poem 20160425)
i find your soft pearl
hidden among the diamonds
warmth among the ice
——
RonovanWrites
Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt
Challenge #94 Diamonds & Pearls
urging us forward
the breath of the ancient river on our backs
we stepped back from the ledge
we stood closer together
at this great height
gigantic but now reduced to a trickle
moving blindly
but like something ancient
the river twisted not like a snake
we looked down into the chasm
——
god squeezed the universe out of a tiny tube, like toothpaste prepared
for a giant’s bedtime. white and gritty and smelling strongly of mint,
the universe spread out, frothing and foaming making and breaking down
the plaque that wasn’t until the toothpaste made it so. now we’re all
just waiting for the inevitable sound of the cosmic faucet
and the great rinse
——
sound the bell, and tell my darlin’
your darlin’ is lost, your darlin’ is lost
weigh the anchor, and string her pearls
her pearls are lost, her pearls are lost
strike the sail, and blow me home
your home is lost, your home is lost
pipe me ashore, and let me kiss her
your kisses are lost, your kisses are lost
find a star, and steer me to it
your stars are lost, your stars are lost
take my heart, and feed the sea
your heart is lost, your heart is lost
——
National Poetry Month
NaPoWriMo Day 26
Call and Response
Words and Feathers 