Once more with poetry: April 2023
A bit of poetry play or: what happens if I create nonsense in verses, then multiply it into more nonsense? Surprisingly, some of it might end up making sense. Or not, depend
I have the time
And I have the tide
I can find the joy
It can be my toy
I can play with words
Open cans of worms
I devour sweets
I lip-sync across streets
I'm already tired
Figure out the rest
I'm out
I
I have the time
To smile at myself
To take a deep breath
To finish my glass of water
To scribble in a notebook
To cuddle with my cat
However, the time to feel like
A defective version of myself
The time to nitpick and criticise
The time for unrealistic standards
I ran out of that time,
I hope.
II
And I have the tide
Lulling me into peace
Like a wise woman's voice
Cooing ‘It's alright baby,
You just relax’
‘Life will take care of itself
For these five minutes you close
Your eyes’
I want to retort
‘It's easy for you, old lady, you are
Just foam, and current, and salty water
No bills to pay, no work deadlines,
No cat food to buy’
But the tide lulls me
With her hypnotic song
To blissful silence
III
I can find the joy
I repeat to myself
Stubbornly
I can find the joy
I can find the joy
I can find the joy
Is it there yet?
IV
‘It can be my toy’
Yapped the tail-waving puppy
Jumping up and down
In front of the little boy
Bent over in laughter
V
I can play with words
Even when they stink
When they sulk and swear
And don't stick to the page
I can lure them back
Stroke them with my pen
Until they purr, content
Then I stab them with thick
Horizontal lines
I don't play nice
VI
Open cans of worms
Place them in the garden
And behold as the choir
Wiggles out of their cages
They will dance and sing
With thin, nasal voices
And then plunge together
Make their home in the ground
What? They're worms
What were you expecting?
If you wanted entertainment
You should have bought an aquarium
VII
I devour sweets
Like in zombie flicks
Shred string candy
Like bright intestines
Bite a muffin
Like a juicy cheek
Swallow handfuls of chocolate-coated almonds
Like they're delicate, polished fingertips
I have a sweet, sharp tooth
VIII
I lip-sync across streets
With my mask on
So nobody can see
It's a private show
The pavement is my stage
I dodge a dog poop
Toss my hair around
Once I almost derailed a cyclist
It's my private show
IX
I'm already tired
Figure out the rest
I'm out
This poetry thing
Is really not for me
Plus I'm out of ink
Don't want to waste a new pen
Writing musings and news
Dear readers,
I hope you enjoyed the first poetry episode of the year. I love playing with different kinds of poetry and flexible prose, and it feels good to lighten up the mood after the heavy topic of the previous issue.
Meanwhile, the Creativity Stir anthology has moved into the first stage of editing. I have had the opportunity to read two drafts, and I loved them. I submitted my comments today, and they were mostly praise for the plots and character building. I am so curious — and a bit scared — to see what feedback I’m going to receive. Having expert eyes review pieces I wrote is a rare treat!
If you made it to here, thank you for spending time with me and my characters once again. By the end of the month, we might be back into outer space once again!
See you soon!
Magnolia Fay
Aww!! I love this juicy poem 💖