paper paper everywhere...






























wow.
i never plan
on not
being here
but then
the first thing
i know,
i have not been here
for days...

what have i been doing?

knitting like a madman
on the blanket
that will prove to be
the death of me...

making red and green
rice krispie squares...

painting snowmen...

washing snowpants and winter coats
repeatedly...

reading christmas magazines...

oh.
and all parents check the
tv guide at 3 in the afternoon
to plan out the best strategy
for what christmas specials they
will be watching that night, right?
i mean, the fact that i
"called dibs"
on the tv from 7 til 9 last night
because the flintstones christmas
was on, followed by the jetsons!
that's fair, right?
i offered to let them watch too...

poetry thursday...something new.


a poetic meme.

1. The first poem I remember reading/hearing/reacting to was …
it would be a toss up
between a poem that had a line
"in xanadu did kubla khan
a stately pleasure dome decree..."
and "the highway man" which i
immediately fell in love with...
i would sit in the hallway upstairs
(which had great acoustics)
and read it aloud with dramatic flourish...

2. I was forced to memorize (name of poem) in school and …
jabberwocky from alice through the looking glass when i was
taking a children's literature course in university...i LOVED
that course...and we needed to memorize that for the exam...
heehee

3. I read/don’t read poetry because …
i am not really sure. i read it but i don't read it often.
i started off reading lyrics to music as poetry and i think
that is what really shaped how i write today...
i like sharp, concise poetry...words like bullets
nothing really flowery or sappy...i go right for the gut.

4. A poem I’m likely to think about when asked about a favorite poem is …

my most obvious answer is alba by ezra pound...i have written that
short poem in the cover of every journal i have owned...

5. I write/don’t write poetry, but …
i write but i don't often consider it to be
poetry...
snippets and catchphrases
mindsets and mini emotional explosions...
but poetry?
i don't know.


6. My experience with reading poetry differs from my experience with reading other types of literature …
i don't see a strong distinction between the two
for myself...
i think poetry can be found in many mediums,
whether intended or not...
and what becomes poetry for one person
may not for another...
i tend to choose books subconciously
that have are inherently dark and poetic
and the ones i love possess a certain flow to the words...

7. I find poetry …
a release
a refuge
a silent friend
a documentation
in secret code.

8. The last time I heard poetry …
sadly, i don't.
i need to look online more
and take advantage of that avenue
because i'm certainly not going to
find any poetry readings here unless
i drive 45 minutes away
or do them myself...
:)

9. I think poetry is like …
a puzzle,
a code,
the hammering out of cryptic syllables
and rhyme similiar to
the stacatto beat of morse code,
intending meaning,
intending understanding
if only we can break between the lines,
look beyond the words.

a secret about me.

shhhhh....
this is a secret.

i clap...
alot...
without meaning to, without planning to...
i just clap.

it's like i suddenly get this
spontaneous
uncontrollable
burst
of energy
and i have to clap
to release it...

usually it's a very fast 4 beat clap,
hopefully, when no one is looking.

it started about ten years ago...
no one except my husband knows...
i think my kids suspect
but i'm not sure.

is that weird?
like, really weird?
cause if it is, it's not actually true.

but heh...
it might be true.

score!

so.

i went to the mall yesterday
with my husband for a quick
pick-up-two-fast-b'day-presents-
for-the-party-i-am-totally-unprepared-
for-that-is-happening-in-a-few-hours
kind of visit.

as i got to the toy department,
there were 3 big tables
all marked down right in the middle
aisle which i glanced at, scoffed
at yellow ticket, ("that's the
sale price?") and continued on...

my husband came and found me,
we glanced again at tables as we
were leaving and realized that the
yellow ticket was not the sale price,
the sale price was 70 percent lower
than the yellow ticket!

heh.

so.
suffice to say, we left with roughly
350.00 dollars worth of toys
purchased for a mere 110.00.

i'm singing fa lalalalala lala lala la
all the way home.

poetry thursday

inside the walls of an angry mind.

the violence of the family
gathering, everyone's egos
bumping up against everyone else's
intentions
miscommunications
mixed signals
and here i sit afterwards
feeling tender and bruised
it hurts to press too hard
in spots and yet i keep
picking it
like a scab.

and you lay asleep on the couch.