2016 - The Wabi-Sabi Writer
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Monday, October 31, 2016

NaNo16 • Prose

Needful Path - the Eve of Words

Needful Path - the Eve of Words
October 31, 20161 Comments


There were many times last November when I swore I would never NaNo again... and yet here I find myself, on the Eve of words (50,000 of them to be exact) consumed with the need and also trepidation of yet another wild 30 day adventure with the Muze.  

This time will be different.  I am not relying on the labors of words already born to the page. This time I am seeking a new path, a brand new tale and in the grimey, gruesome and glorious process will deliver my own Glaring Truth.



Come walk with me. The path is just ahead... 
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Saturday, October 1, 2016

October '16 Poetry Project •

Placeholder

Placeholder
October 01, 2016 2 Comments


I am
Unstuck 
my mind
wanders without
boundary
limited
only by definition
given from one
thought
to the next
one
Looking back
so close
I can 
smell
the creaking cedar
chest of my childhood
dreams
as close
as your sleeping
face
is to mine
You steal
my time
breathing
my air
then
roll over
yet
another
day








Poetry Prompt based on OctPoWriMo 1 - Time
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October '16 Poetry Project •

Finding my Wild - OctPoWriMo

Finding my Wild - OctPoWriMo
October 01, 20160 Comments




I am taking on a project this October.  A poem a day for 31 days.  I  have NaNoWriMo to prepare for but find the muze is more generous when I am regularly providing the attention that is craved.  

This undertaking will require me to set aside my own inner critic and let the MuZe have her way with me.  
This means it can get a bit messy.  Awkward.  And beautiful.

All works are drafts - feedback is appreciated as is kindness.  Thank you for sharing this journey with me...

Onto the path to my wild.
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Saturday, April 30, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

Muse's Ankh

Muse's Ankh
April 30, 2016 2 Comments


The late afternoon air 
laden and swollen
with sticky scents
 of BBQ
and promises.

I no longer
partake
in one
but still indulge
my cravings
 for
the taste 
of something 
seared with heat
rubbed vigoously
raw with intention
until pliable
possible
ready
to consume
whole

So draw me
 a bath
and sprinkle
the salt

 I am a cannibal
of promises
I made to myself 
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Friday, April 29, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

Disciplined

Disciplined
April 29, 2016 2 Comments


someone has hijacked
my mind
the mistress
muse
demands
no ransom
(yet)
Only wraps
ropes
around
my waste
so I can
do nothing
but wait
by the red
phone
hoping 
to make a deal
a black sheet party
but 
all I get
is the
dread space
on the other side
of the lines


NaPoWriMo 2016 #29
*
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Wednesday, April 27, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

Definition

Definition
April 27, 2016 2 Comments



muse
/myo͞oz/


verb
1. to weave beauty and warp pain into true lines; to weft through life riddles towards a si ne qua non. 

2. to ensnare interminably one's prey.

3. to teeter on the perilous edge of fantasy and oblivion. 







NaPoWriMo 2016 #28

Prompt from Creating Space For Poetry, Making Room For Humanity | Kevin Kantor | TEDxClaremontColleges (14:15 through 15:30).

Si ne qua non - an indispensable condition, element, or factor; something essential
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NaPoWriMo 2016 •

Van Gogh Latte

Van Gogh Latte
April 27, 2016 2 Comments



stealing
 time
to indulge
in a slow pace
staring at my reflection
in the darkened
kitchen window
the precious
early hours
before the
the streets
fill with strangers
making their own way
pondering 
the moments
that sprawl out
on the sidewalk

I think of 
the rabbits
those that flourished
with affection
and those that perished
without
Am I a rabbit
under that common
curse?

the skies
still dark
dissolve 
towards dawn
in deep 
slate
and heavy
clouds
I can see
now
the faint
outline
the horizon
sparkling in the distance
the glimmer 
and glint
dance 
on my living
room walls
perhaps
from someone else's
kitchen window
where they sit
scrawling
thoughts
onto their own page
looking
out
towards
the endless
horizon

I 
glow
ultramarine
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Tuesday, April 26, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

Flu-flu fletching

Flu-flu fletching
April 26, 20161 Comments



The muse wakes
slowly
reluctantly
demanding coffee 
in small cups
in large quantities
and tiny spoons
to drag through
the day
to see
a path
pattern
in the cream

Poetess
who am I
put on the airs
and shoes
of one 
who weaves
words
metaphors
into an arrow
a soul laser
with a blunt
point

Take aim
anticipate the arc

with
strong
steeped 
tea
and
unctuous
ruby 
wine

find
the
mark

 let the flu-flu
fletching
fly
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Monday, April 25, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

Lucifer's Lacquer

Lucifer's Lacquer
April 25, 20160 Comments


Ask me
  and I will answer

Nein Nein Nein
Ok Fine

Size Matters

But you knew that


topless and barefoot
Shattered souls

wander

Across the universe
through the fire

Incognito In Sausalito

the starter wives
eat mainly lobster
and
Black Cherry Chutney

desperately seeking a 

loophole


after sex

the poor lil rich girl
 cries
Mermaid's Tears

I am
Gobsmacked
its raining men


Oh To Be 25 Again

before I

Fade to Black








NaPoWriMo 2016 #25
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Sunday, April 24, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

Ten Years with Rilke

Ten Years with Rilke
April 24, 20160 Comments

Perhaps
Everything terrible
Thinking
about Wildflower
with 62 days
until IM
Nice
I get in
a run
is in its deepest being
grateful
to share
something helpless
with a fellow traveller
raw
juice
move
build
dog stars
that wants
help
from us



"Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us." 
Rainer Rilke


NaPoWriMo 2016 #24
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Saturday, April 23, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

. Nothingness

. Nothingness
April 23, 20160 Comments



Stop
Spinning
Making much 
ado
about
nothing
Ditch
the ether
and relent
accept
the void
en pointe
Refill
the vacuum
with all
your 
emptiness
your
dark
energy
and
dance
dance
like no
one
is
nothing
is
watching


NaPoWriMo 2016 #23
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Friday, April 22, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

Patricia

Patricia
April 22, 20160 Comments

I never called
you that
your name
carried
with no hint
of rhyme
but of title
granted
to those who
shared sacred space
in my childhood
memories

You were there
that 4th of July 
as the Parade
made it's way
down Elm Street
and I made
my way 
down the greenstick
 fracture
hill

You took us in
your hand
marked with
 sapphire
love
Your habits
color coordinated
with the seasons
on Off Lord Road

You led
us into 
the darkened
velvet 
rosarium
shy of the gifts
given to the others
you sang softly
close to 
the scarlet sanctuary lamp 
Again I would fall
backwards
into expectant arms

It was you
I called
when I leapt 
too high
fell forward
trying to escape
the inevitable
Your spirit song
calming 
 as crimson 
poured down my face

It was you
they called
for catered banquets
slews of salad rolls
and slaw

for wedding cakes
of buttercream confections
layered back pantry intentions

They came
from miles
for hot summer
sandwiches
grinders made fresh
out of an
aluminum
airstream
arrangement

You made a home
for yourself
your brother
and 
the one who knew all
in the dark
dank under belly
of another's life

I did not know
what befallen
you
once I left

but


I heard
you 
gave
a home to
angels

I heard
you
found
a home
shelter 
in the
dew of the sea

Now
In your silence
I hear
sweet
spirit
song
in your memory






Patricia Malonson 
Sept. 7, 1941 - Feb. 10, 2016



NaPoWriMo 2016 #22
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Thursday, April 21, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

Walking Wildwood

Walking Wildwood
April 21, 20160 Comments


July

I did’t question
 when she ran
across the tracks 
towards the cemetery. 
I just tossed the rock 
from between the railroad ties 
and followed 

Holding hands
We wandered
between
well manicured
plots
weaving 
fanciful
life stories
for what was
written in stone
Forever?
A question answered
in a long 
first
kiss


August

A marriage
two kids
and a boyfriend
on the other side of the country

Still they found
their way
back to the place
under the precarious trestle
they built
It's been forever
A question answered
in a long 
secret
kiss


October

The sylvan path
long hidden
forgotten 
in ragweed tangles
I walk instead
through the entrance
on cracked tar
covered concrete
notions
of where I expected
life to go

Do you remember
that languid
summer
when we would
lay long
late nights
on the grass
You told me then
to wish 
only on stars
that fell towards
Wildwood
We kissed 
our lips
so swollen
with questions
of desire

So it is
finally time
to tell you 
my answer
you will not hear
you always
knew
yes
Forever

I lay down
my blue
rose
and walk
towards the tracks




NaPoWriMo 2016 #21
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Wednesday, April 20, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

With Wild Abandon

With Wild Abandon
April 20, 20160 Comments


Six and ten circles
plus a hundred
more spins
around the sun
before the choice
my first
(with limits)
granted 
as token
permission
 to force wakefulness
on a well exhausted day
just for spite

So I chose

it was as easy
 as breathing

the sanitary intentions
laid out for me
to rest on
the deeply
embossed
foul
yellow 
stains

All the While
Others see
only glitter
and gleam
the titanic 
staterooms
red flocked
white house
powder rooms

*Ma propre Vie
Ma Folie
gelled
 absolute 
beaten pulp
spread out
to dry
my dreams 
in long slow
copper cylinders 
laser etched
with cobblestones
and side walk cafes

the mulberry silk
smoke screen
weaved
my world
whole

I creep 
in passages
and hide
in translations
and get lost
in the crowning
mold

It is time
I peel Paris down



NaPoWriMo 2016 Day #20

Translations:
Ma propre Vie - My own life
Ma Folie - My insanity/fantasy

Image: #15 With Wild Abandon Vintage Paris In Cream And Pink Frame Paper
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Tuesday, April 19, 2016

NaPoWriMo 2016 •

Alt-Tab

Alt-Tab
April 19, 20160 Comments

The theriac
remedy
for long suffered
writers and poets and artists
restrained with doubt duct-tape
and itch critic rash 

Indications for Use:
When the instant gratification
manic monkey
climbs up your back
shoving you down
youtube wormholes
where you spiral
head first
into the dark playground



and after amaranthine
 hours
 days
even weeks (gasp)
you find yourself
staring up
from the outhouse 
pit of your stomach
and you hear the echo
of your own voice

"How can I steal time?"
This is when you take Alt-Tab

When you are in
an endless meeting
taking the minutes
for yourself
and
 the boss leans over 
with stale starbucks
breathing down your shoulder
ALT-TAB

When you are
kept down
neck deep
in budget bullshit
and powerpoint presentation purgatory
slip in snippets
weasel in words
press in poetry
and
if sidewalk superintendents
seek to smear
the way
ALT-TAB

Overdose Warning:

guard
your
mind 
space
well
truth
lurks
behind
open
windows






Based on the prompt to write a didactic poem that focuses on a practical skill

Image Credits: 
Dark Playground (http://waitbutwhy.com/2013/10/why-procrastinators-procrastinate.html)
Alt-Tab Switch Reflex: http://thedoghousediaries.com/3100
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