Disbelief...

I did it.

I finally
actually
really
effing
did
it.

I
stood
up there
in front of a mic
in front of other people
in front of other writers
and
I read something
of
my
own.

out loud.

and it was so much fucking harder than i ever thought it would be.

but
I did it

and someday
I might even do it again

(and the best part?
that when I finished reading my first piece
a woman in the audience
called out
"more! more!")

a favorite poem...

a long time ago
i read a poem on liz elayne's blog
that has stuck with me 
ever since.
the poet is thomas lux...

The People of the Other Village

hate the people of this village   
and would nail our hats
to our heads for refusing in their presence to remove them
or staple our hands to our foreheads   
for refusing to salute them
if we did not hurt them first: mail them packages of rats,
mix their flour at night with broken glass.
We do this, they do that.
They peel the larynx from one of our brothers’ throats.
We devein one of their sisters.
The quicksand pits they built were good.
Our amputation teams were better.
We trained some birds to steal their wheat.
They sent to us exploding ambassadors of peace.
They do this, we do that.
We canceled our sheep imports.   
They no longer bought our blankets.   
We mocked their greatest poet   
and when that had no effect   
we parodied the way they dance
which did cause pain, so they, in turn, said our God
was leprous, hairless.
We do this, they do that.
Ten thousand (10,000) years, ten thousand
(10,000) brutal, beautiful years.

i'm not sure what it is about this poem that draws me in...
the brutal beautiful language, 
the short succinct sentences...
the haunting truth...
but i know it stuck with me
and that's when i know i love a poem...
when years later
i remember having read it
and go on a mad search trying to find it....
what about you?
have a favorite poem...
please share...
i'd love to hear it...

april 11 already...

here it is
already the 11th of april...
and i feel that
although
i have not been here as much i had hoped
i have been crossing things off my poetry month plan...

i did put a poem on the fridge...i had a feeling when i wrote that
on my list
that it would be something by ee cummings...
i have always been in love with this poem...
i'm curious what the kids will say when they come home
{if they notice it all}
and depending on their reaction
i may add more

but even if they don't react
i like to be able to read it in my head while i'm searching
for the milk


poems in music and music in poems...

when i was a kid
i was obsessed with song lyrics...
i would pore over the lyrics from every record liner
{prince 1999}{rick springfield}{micheal jackson}
{ratt}{motley crue}
and read and reread the lyrics from my cassette tapes
{bon jovi}{billy idol}{madonna}{more prince}
until they fell apart from use and abuse....

i would copy the lyrics over and over...i would cover my school notebooks
with snippets of songs and broken bits of favorite phrases...

this became a favorite song when i was little older...university actually...
but i fell in love with its words...with its angst...
to me, it was the perfect love song...

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice when I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell I'm doing here?
I don't belong here

She's running out the door
She's running out
She runs runs runs

Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
I don't belong here