poem of the week
so when caxton removed my membership, poem of the week went down for a while. but not to worry! not being able to post new poems just gave me time to search for more. and i have a wayyy lot of them.
Week of March 17th, 2008
Camping Out
Flat on our backs, we let the world go on around us
The hastily built fire added a crackle to keep time with the chirping song
of the night insects
Embers rose into the air haphazardly and fell into the earth slowly
spiraling to the ground like fireflies on Benzedrine.
The trees formed the ceiling of our own private Sistine Chapel
with a moon roof to let the stars shine through.
Content and safe, we fell asleep dreaming of being everywhere else.
Copyright © Matt Betts
Week of March 10th, 2008
This one is for two of my very dear friends (the first part anyway):
Whatever it is to be “transcendent”
they showered and with grace, thought
of doing something with the living room—
another lamp maybe
and the arrangement would step back,
no shyness or shame, just naked
and they reclined into their seats with the question
of how to be of use, and we declined to answer.
Copyright © Marc Gaba
Week of March 3rd , 2008
Your Feet
When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.
Copyright © Pablo Neruda
Week of April 30th, 2007
While Smoking a Cigarette on the Deck
One yard over
Lady Madonna stands barefoot in the snow.
Her eyes, impressed fingerprints
the birds peck at
these, still, narrow days.
She half smiles,
I take another drag
and think,
if there were a leaf left
it might be grieving,
or
soon she will be framed in twilight.
Copyright © 2001 Tasha
Week of April 23rd
Saw You, Want You
Saw you - corner of 8th
and Crescent, asking
a lady in fur for directions.
My mouth went limp when
you called her “ma’am.”
You smiled, and I felt
I might not have to walk
through life with this boulder
between my hands. I want
to lie down in your drawl, fall
asleep on the tilt of your eyebrow.
I kick myself for wearing
that hippie poncho, for not
having the car to drive you
where you meant to go.
I never did anything
like this before.
I was the 5’5 brunette
carrying a takeout pizza.
The walk signal went green.
I sneezed, and
you blessed me.
Copyright © 2006 Sarah J. Sloat
