Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.
Showing posts with label don't quit your day job. Show all posts
Showing posts with label don't quit your day job. Show all posts

Friday, October 28, 2011

A Breviary For The Eager

If one is to burnish A Calling,
One must learn one's tenets and sacraments--
One must find one's rabbi, if you will,
(for was not the Savior Himself called by this title?)
And finally, a suitable catechism must be dispensed.
Consider, neophyte,
Your betters:
Saint Mark The Evangelist, dragged through the streets and beheaded.
Saint Bartholomew, flayed alive and crucified.
Saint Sebastian, lashed to a post and shot through with arrows.
Saint Barbara, tortured and beheaded.
Saint Peter, The Rock, crucified upside down.
Faith is not for the sissified, or the weekend enthusiast.
It demands...
Everything.

Behold the lecturer, at whose feet you may learn
To mold the preposterous Play-doh of your gift
Into something truly fine.
Place no stock in his appearance--
He may look untrimmed, overlooked by the campus landscaping service,
Rumpled, ridiculous;
But his work has appeared in countless quarterlies.
He has thrown in with the ravening cream of his generation,
Tearing and ripping his way into the few available publications,
Subscribed to by 117,
Actually read by 44,
9 of whom read beyond their own contributions.
Let him guide you.
A hundred hours spent kneeling may yield a flashing moment in mid-air,
And it is only the very particular pigeon who may wheel,
High above the mob.
This can be you.
You can become one of His little favorites
If you keep your ears open, your mouth shut,
And avoid the unthinking spontaneous outburst,
Or any embarrassing, sick-making tiresome end rhyme.

______

for dverse Meeting The Bar

illustration: The Martyred Saint Sebastian by Gustave Moreau

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Oh Gawd, Not Another One!

I've been a poet for a while now. I've also, incredibly, had a girlfriend or two. Hey, even a blind mail lady finds the door slot once in a while. So, predictably, I have written them poems. I've noticed that there is an identifiable and consistent pattern to their reactions, over time. So, let me throw on my white lab coat and ask Test Question #1. See if you can guess which of the following statements is more likely to be true:

Statement Number One: "Meet my significant other of thirty years, my darling and one and only (insert name), who is also a poet."

or

Statement Number Two: "Meet (insert name), the poet (or musician, or artist, or actress) I met last week."

If you chose Statement #1, that's wonderful. Have a happy life in your candy-coated fairyland. If you chose Statement Number Two, your feet are firmly planted in reality. Oh cheer up. I've written a list for you. Lane 1, no waiting. Here it is:

Fireblossom's Progression of Reactions From Women Receiving Doggerel Poetry Written By Me, Over Time

Poem #1) Omg!!! WOW! You wrote this for me? Omg. You are too sweet for words. I'm honored, truly. No one has ever written anything for me before! I'm going to keep this forever. MMmmmmmwahhhhhhhh!

Poem #3) My god you are brilliant. This is amazing. Thank you! I love you, Fireblossom!

Poem #6) Another one? For me? Omg. What are you doing? As always, I love it. Thank you. Really.

Poem #10) Wow. Thanks.

Poem #13) I'll read it when I get a chance. I promise. I love them. Gotta run!

Poem 15) Are you sure you gave it to me? I don't remember, I must be going crazy. I'll look for it. If you gave it to me, I'm sure it's here somewhere. 

Poem 16) *sigh* You really write a lot of poems.

Poem 17) I showed it to my friend Sue, and she thought it was really good. We're, um, just friends.

Poem 18) Hi, this is Jane. I can't come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the beep. Bye!

Poem 20) Undeliverable as addressed. Addressee unknown.

5 years later, at a social gathering) Omg. You! Are you still writing that stuff, poems, or whatever? I think you gave me a few of them. Wow, so, (voice going flat) are you still just...writing poems, or...  (voice enthusiastic again) Oh hey! Come over here. I want you to meet my husband! He's an engineer!

__________

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Requiem



I (over)wrote this gloomy little piece when I was 18 years old and just out of high school. It got published in Speakeasy magazine. Most of it makes me cringe now, but I have always really loved the ending. Here it is, and please be merciful.

__________


The empty concert hall--

The podium conducting, the stage performs

A piece of Beethoven's shattered plaster head

In forgotten time.


Ladies and gentlemen--

If it please thee, I sit hangdog on the world's steps.

In the window sobbing three floors above,

Love stands head in hand as

Scores blow crazed past my rubble feet.


And I lay myself open to you, then.

My madness mirror, tender across time and

Believing caressive until it lay sprawled

Hit-and-run

Six o'clock and real, but so am I...


Though I kneel broken,

The bitter victim of iambic pentameter--

My feeling eyes still journey

My seeing heart still voyages

Until, stumbling on a piece of Beethoven's shattered plaster head,

The air hammer song and banking cosmic goes flying

My God, now they'll never know

the moving

measured

female beauty

Of a street sign in the rain.

______________