I asked if I burned out the current.

You gave no answer.

Have you had enough of the sun?

It is always there, you know.

I don’t know what streaks of light reach you

where you like to go,

if they cut through the blue

like devoted arms seeking you

deep in another world.

I imagine if I reminisce,

my bones could become stone,

polished with sharpened grief, fortified,

my heavy skeleton a tomb you don’t visit.

Do you ever think of me?

And if you do, If I knew

I would want to be

the quiet glow in the street lamps

when the day ends where you like to go,

far away in another world.
*******************************

Eh, I tried.

I just haven’t felt pressed to write. This happens to me every now and then but I’m sure I’ll be updating this site again in the future. I just wanted to inform anyone that does subscribe to this wordpress blog that I’ll return someday and post more.

***************

Please consider this poem my second in this series. It still needs some finessing though and so it may change a bit over the week. The first in my project was “What You Can Count On” in Xicano Poetry Daily.

“The Pecan Grove”

What I first knew of risk I learned picking
pecans – harvesting with my father in

the Fall. We’d walk along with fallen branch
and plastic bag in hand. Our eyes watching

the tree tops for the right gesture – a cloud
shielding above perfect clusters of shells.

My father would aim, fling a broken branch
up to spark cascades of fruit* to our feet.

The autumns were coated with pecans – warm,
stirred like leche quemada made at home.

There were visitors too. Who’d sit with my
father with a handful of unshelled nuts.

With each crack and bite, the more relaxed the
exchange of their words. Truths upon more truths.

Shelled selfs – cascading, plucked and opening -
Picking up words – those in tact, the rancid too.

Pecan shells on the table at parent's house (2010)

Pecan grove I visited as a kid.

* Pecans belong to the fruit type “Drupe” http://waynesword.palomar.edu/fruitid1.htm#drupe

Not technically classified as a “nut”

Thanks!

I’m so lazy about logging onto wordpress. It was published a few days ago and only just sharing now.

I’m second to last, but hey at least I made it!

Check it out.

]]> http://redpetals04.wordpress.com/2011/06/17/my-poem-stilettos-published-in-new-wave-vomit/feed/ 4 Alejandra http://redpetals04.wordpress.com/2011/05/02/napowrimo-2011-if-april-was-for-writing-then-may-is-for-revising/ http://redpetals04.wordpress.com/2011/05/02/napowrimo-2011-if-april-was-for-writing-then-may-is-for-revising/#comments Mon, 02 May 2011 14:07:38 +0000 Alejandra http://redpetals04.wordpress.com/?p=710 ]]> For NaPoWriMo 2011, I wrote 9 poems more than I did last year for a total of 17. I have 8 more in draft that I will finish at some point. Too much went on in April for me to dedicate to finishing a poem everyday but like last year, I’m glad I did this writing exercise anyway.

I’m anxious to revise a few of the poems. I had sent out 7 for publication and already 3 of them have been rejected. This was probably the first time I felt bad about a rejection but it also reminds me that I didn’t work on any of those poems like I should. I didn’t edit much.

For some, the end result was to write at least 30 poems no matter what. I had the same thought but that long ago stopped being my objective. I don’t feel I failed in this challenge. As cliché as it may be, it was never about quantity but about quality. I don’t think I could have written broken contrived lines, posted it and called it poetry the entire month. Not all were gems. I will agree some poems were written for the sake of checking off a prompt. I am happy to say though I’m actually proud of a handful of poems I completed this year.

I hope everyone else participating had a successful NaPoWriMo 2011 and enjoyed National Poetry Month.

Day 17’s prompt was to write about the big picture. I often think in this way and then work down to the details. This wasn’t that difficult except that I am not sure if this works in terms of people’s idea of what “big picture” means. Also, this is part of my continuing attempt to write prose poetry. You see, I haven’t dropped out yet. Not sure I’ll get all 30 poems done by Sunday.

Macrocosm of Single-Motherhood

You stumble over a metropolis on the living room floor of alphabet block towers and laundry cul-de-sacs while the phone rings.  You traverse an independent country made for you and the little fevered head resting against the purposeful neck, while stacks of mail grows untamed and unopened. Inside the environment is perpetually inhabited with pots perched and soaking, the wash cycling and calling, and things left unfinished. Outside it’s drizzling. The leaves on trees gleam in scattered melody like a bell choir. You stop to receive the pastoral zephyr through the window.  In every direction the variable elements of this existence rustle. For a short moment you see each is a small story in your galactic expanse and you are Polaris. And this makes sense. It is pleasing. 

Day 16’s prompt was to write a poem about a specific moment or whatever I might interpret with the word snapshot. I’m also practicing writing 10 lines of 10 syllables each for another poem prompt. Whew.

“Coffee Filters”

Baby, let me make some coffee first, let
me blink the dryness out my tired eyes,

and extend every fiber against my bones -
that crackle in rhythmus under my robe. 

Baby, see a filter for my coffee
and here have a filter for you to wear,  

a brown pleated papier-mâché chapeau
to compliment your smiling eyes, Baby,

tip your hat and strut this listless morning
into fervor – like all days should begin. 

*********************

This poem needs explanation. Before I moved from my old home to the apartment I am in now, I owned a regular coffee maker. I use a keurig now and I reluctantly use k-cups because my ground coffee clogs the machine and renders it completely useless. I had the genius idea this morning to rip a piece of coffee filter and place it in the reusable keurig ground coffee holder to prevent clogging. As I was looking for coffee filters in my cabinets, Lili walked up beside me with a curious face and I was flooded with the memory that before she turned 2 years old and when I used a regular coffee machine, Lili would stand by to receive a coffee filter hat while I made coffee. It was the sweetest thing to see each morning my little beansies walking off happily with a coffee filter on her head.

In case you’re wondering, I did give her a coffee filter to wear…for old times sake.

Day 15 was to write a “profile” poem as in a social networking profile. I went with facebook. This is still kind of stupid but whatever.

“About Me”

Female. Employed. Single.

Pushing thirty. Shy in general.

Surmise my awkward life

in one quote on thriving

with my best qualities in tact.

Look for me.

My geographical coordinates

are just North of the fact

I once had someone whisper

in my ear, “You’re trouble,”

and out Southwest enough

to admit the fact

I’ll never understand

what they meant by it.

Day 14 was to write about something that “ain’t none of my business.” I really don’t care for this prompt but here is my attempt anyway. Tah dah? I am so terrible with haikus.

“Secrets”

Tell to one with time

pieces of what is inside,

Infer friend or foe.