NaPM April 27, 2018

[Todd]

Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.


Topic 27: Write a "Thirteen Ways" poem inspired by the following poem by Wallace Stevens.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/4...-blackbird

Form: any
Line requirements: 8 lines or more

[vagabond]

blackbirds in haddam

birds´ song was always there.
we amplified the melody,
a curious experience,
the heavy bass vibrates.

we breed the blackbirds fast,
stating they are tame, not fit to fly
while covertly knowing well
they can.

all the blackbirds will be gone
and homeless in the longer run,
refusing their elaborated shacks
of salt and glass and iron.

wild blackbirds, as we found,
already are a nuisance,
spreading their minuscule turds,
unfertilizing gardens.

we chase the blackbirds out on sea
and out of sight
to waste away,
but blackbirds do not really die.

regarding blackbirds time dilates.
looking at them closely vision fades,
the blackness in our eyes
dilates.

but there´s still time 
to scribble writings on the beach
and listen to decaying songs.

blackbirds on a blind moon.
blackbirds and the blue light.

ok, it´s not a 13 ways poem, but it was inspired by stevens´ poem at least
-----

prev. version


looking at blackbirds in haddam

we breed the blackbirds fast
and heavy, stating that they would not fly
but covertly knowing
that they can.

admittedly, wild blackbirds are a nuicance,
for sidewalks, yards, they do not pick
while leaving their minuscule turds.

all the blackbirds, homeless
in the long run,
although we make elaborated shacks
in salt and glass and iron.

out on sea
the blackbirds do not drown
water will dissolve their bones
into clams and crabs and fish.

time dilates
when looking at a blackbird.
it just stays the same, apparently,
while changing you.

pupils will dilate
when looking at a blackbird
close enough.

[Knot]

Ubiquitous survivor strutting

from the the long shadow

of Tyrannosaurus Rex.

My grandfather bared your throat,

index finger hooked beak, knife

cut once, a tap left running
in the sink, life washed clean away.

Neither you nor I made a sound.

Measure success in numbers,

measure success in possibility.

Outpouring of the Indus,

flowing west to Lydia, to Greece

a torrent flooding into the present.

Scratch the surface, appetites

swiftly satisfied,

the indifference of a shallow grave.

Painted ostracon, black ink

crowned 'the bird that gives birth

every day'.  Found before

the boy king.

Incubators of contagion, a feast,

death, awaiting a warm breeze.

Range limited,

free to stay

behind the fence,

denied flight

gift to a fox.

Poor cousin, the rich red

jungle exchanged for cage,

fluorescent lighting; confined

to less than this page.

Cut for pain, bloated, blind,
bred for this and nothing else.

Bread-crumbed, spiced,

deep-fried, drowned,

chicken in name only.



.

[Todd]

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Holidays with my Grandmother

I
She stands like a proud roman
candle at the table's head,
wiglet frosted with Aqua net, hair
on fire, believing the smell 
to be a burnt casserole.

II
Grandmother says that leaving
the door unlocked is why I’m late
to the party. She asks if I’m being raped.

III
Turkey is carved while the dog pees
on the carpet. The hose is dragged
into the kitchen.

IV
Frankincense, myrrh, and wrapped
gifts from the RV are mountains
on the pool table.

V
The dog is growling
at my cousin, who snuck
away to drink
grandmother’s codeine.

VI
Trees brush the ceiling.
Tinsel forms crop circles
around the gold
leaf conquistadors

VII
Brown meat and leftovers
are all that will be served
for a brown holiday.

VIII
Grandmother removes the tags
on the presents. My mother sniffs a sweater
and hands it to her sister.

IX
That man of your mothers will always
sit at the children’s table.

X
Children, grandchildren, and dogs
share the same name. Grandmother
raises her voice.

XI
Grandmother presses receipts
in my mother’s hand before
she opens the gift.

XII
The youngest drink
and the oldest perch
like blackbirds.

XIII
The hearth is cold,
and the rooms are empty.
Faces exist  now only 
in ever-expanding circles.

[just mercedes]

13 handy phrases

Good morning. Mōrena.

Where is the Medical Centre? Kei hea te Whare Hauora?

Your music is very loud. Ko te tino nui to koutou waiata.

My wife has a headache. Taku wahine e te ānini.
 
Where are the toilets please? Kei hea nga wharepaku?

The feelers were 12 inches long. E 12 inihi te roa o nga kaimahi.

Your children have taken her keys. Kua mau nga tamariki ki a ia.

Your parrot is eating my car. Kei te kai taku kai i taku motokā.

My mother is not a hamster. Ko taku atu ehara i te hamster.

There is a ferret in my tent. Kei reira taku whara.

Take me home. Tangohia ahau ki te kainga.

There is always room for one more. He he tonu ruma hoki kotahi atu.

My hovercraft is full of eels again. Ko taku kapi kua ki tonu i nga tuna.

[dukealien]

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Chest of Drawers


I
Chest of drawers
subdivided volume
in a bedroom
in a subdivision.

II
Weighty wooden
chest of drawers'
mass overshadows
contents.

III
Hand-pegged chest of drawers
joinery eclipsed
by needlework white doily
it upholds.

IV
Beast with two backs
one of which this chest of drawers
tattooed with its handles
one evening.

V
Pine stained dark
pretended walnut
chest of drawers.

VI
Containing mysteries:
some know what’s in this chest of drawers
some only think they know
some have forgotten.

VII
Infuriating chest
of drawers cannot
rest in any corner—
it would block a door.

VIII
With drawers removed
chest of drawers:
empty wooden house
lacking shutters.

IX
Bloody furniture,
this chest of drawers
wears sullen stain from when
it bit bare toe.

X
Old chest of drawers
makes halting music
when upper right handle
is tugged in wet weather.

XI
Unimpressed by change
of wallpaper and paintings
style all the while
chest of drawers.

XII
Miserly
chest of drawers
won’t disclose a ring
worth one month’s rent
at the pawnshop.

XIII
Implausible chest
of drawers made
of wood from one tree.

[Richard]

Views of the World

I
A loveless blue ball.

II
A home for blackbirds
and also for doves.

III
The river busy, the sky naps
until awakened by wings
that only ask to soar among clouds.

IV
Pretend there's time to ponder
where ravens go at night,
moonlight offers dim answers.

V
A little hand reaches for the sky,
unaware of what's above.
Small eyes, almost blind,
see all they should need to know.

VI
Fresh frost sits on the window,
awaiting a warm touch.

VII
A crow perches upon a tombstone,
unnoticed by mourners, who listen
to verses spewed from within a dark collar.
Eyes fixed on a hole inevitably filled.

VIII
Snowbirds go unseen, lost
in a blinding wind,
most agree, best forgotten.

IX
"Higher Daddy, higher!"
Soon, the swing will be frozen.
Soon, the ground the best place for his feet.

X
Rain fails to wet feathers
that hide in a tree,
bird brains feel safe for the moment.

XI
An eagle watches its prey,
claws dig into flesh, ending another hunt.

XII
Shell cracks, a struggle to escape,
birth no right.

XIII
Dorsets made ivory swans,
now artifacts, remnants that try
to lessen extinction.

[dukealien]

I'm awed and humbled by the quality/beauty/humor of the other posts for this challenge.  What a rich chapter they make!

[RiverNotch]

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Teenage Girls


1
At fifteen I had a crush on a girl in a flannel shirt.
She had a big nose and even bigger breasts.
I had a wet dream on my second week with her,
but not of her.

2
You can't gaslight a girl into loving you.
At least, not while you're still a boy.

3
At twelve I thought I was too smart for my own good.
At thirteen, girls came into the picture
and I was depressed. I remembered a friend I had and thought,
My, she was lovely to talk to.

4
Girl, you're such a prude.
No, I didn't say that. I said prune.
You worry too much.
You're going mad.

5
At fourteen I didn't know how sex worked
and I never masturbated to the bodies of girls
I actually knew.

6
I wonder if I'll graduate.
I wonder if I'll get a girlfriend.
I wonder if I'll get a job.

7
The obligatory image
of blackbirds walking around the feet
of the women about me. The obligatory truth
that they're bitches
and they're girls.

8
You can't look at a girl
without talking to her.

9
At thirteen, I accidentally stepped on this girl
and she was mad and told me to say sorry but
I thought I didn't do anything wrong and
I didn't like the tone of her voice.

10
I'm gonna get crucified for this. Mostly by girls
who wouldn't understand -- or would,
and whose perceptions of me would change
unchangeably.

11
I knew a bit about human anatomy.
I still laughed at the girl whose tampon broke
during computer class. I didn't know it then
but I laughed out of fear.

12
I wanted to be looked at, I wanted to be treated
with a measure of delicacy, with a measure of respect.
I wanted to be above mocking -- the only ones who could mock me
were devils, Antichrists.
I wanted to be deified.
A big word, yes.
At thirteen, girls were Messiah.

13
It's never about the girl.

[Tiger the Lion]

13 Urban Myths of Nod

1
we can trace our roots
to dust

2
apples once were poison

3
evil has a lisp

4
our mother was animal

5
our father was a killer

6
that vein in his forehead
wasn't always there

7
Jubal's youngest is gay

8
we've got cousins out west

9
there's better soil out west

10
there is such a thing as meaning

11
it doesn't grow here

12
we are being punished

13
it's more than we can bear

[Keith]

Thirteen ways to look at a first Kiss

I
Sweaty under street lamps,
an innocent cheek
caught and chased red.

II
Conrete cold
cuddled behind H Block
strong perfume, pungent
under coats.

III
Rough wood on old alley
gates, summers gone dark
outside the kitchen lights.
Teeth meet, cold hands,
warm breath touching breathless.


IV
Drunken clink of milk bottles
fallen on a scrubbed clean step,
leaning in to press wild flowers.

V
Running home late,
taller than the houses
clearing the garden gate
with a lovers leap and no sleep.

VI
As quiet as cussioned quilt
through grounded windows,
we slip together, muffled
by television laughter
coming from the next room.

VII
Two thin straws in a glass
coke bottle,
sharing crisps on worn down step.

VIII
Damp in the long grass
sipping dew drops
from each other.

IX
Rain soaked in a limestone cave
summer shorts and tee shirts
hair dripping like the walls,
lips shiver into warmth.

X
Cigarette smoke chokes
on tobacco and coughs
face first.

XI
Behind the Navy cadets hall,
opening clams and pulling pearls,
swallowing your sound.

XII
A festival tent with black hair
and mud boots, loose jumpers
daubed with field straw
and hot morning headaches.

XIII
The scent of new born
soft and translucent,
carefull not to crush,
I close my eyes under your gaze.