He is carved as an
amorphous stone,
Suggesting he stared
into the rock until
any distinction between
himself and the rock
vanished. . .
But the sculptor couldn't
help but add a face.
Daruma [Free Verse]
6
Tag Archives: Free Verse
“Poetry Is a Destructive Force” by Wallace Stevens [w/ Audio]
That's what misery is,
Nothing to have at heart.
It is to have or nothing.
It is a thing to have,
A lion, an ox in his breast,
To feel it breathing there.
Corazón, stout dog,
Young ox, bow-legged bear,
He tastes its blood, not spit.
He is like a man
In the body of a violent beast.
Its muscles are his own. . .
The lion sleeps in the sun.
Its nose is on its paws.
It can kill a man.
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Liquid Hours [Free Verse]
liquid hours poured forth,
rolling over rock
& into the sea.
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Music Mind [Free Verse]
a meandering melody
hijacked my bliss track
and, as I drifted in the void,
my spine straightened,
my breath slowed,
and I tumbled -- for a time --
through eternity.
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“Once there came a man” by Stephen Crane [w/ Audio]
Once there came a man
Who said:
"Range me all men of the world in rows."
And instantly
There was a terrific clamor among the
people
Against being ranged in rows.
There was a loud quarrel, world-wide.
It endured for ages;
And blood was shed
By those who would not stand in rows,
And by those who pined to stand in rows.
Eventually, the man went to death, weeping.
And those who stayed in the bloody scuffle
Knew not the great simplicity.
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“Balls” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]
Throw the blue ball above the little twigs of the tree-tops,
And cast the yellow ball straight at the buzzing stars.
All our life is a flinging of colored balls
to impossible distances.
And in the end what have we?
A tired arm -- a tip-tilted nose.
Ah! Well! Give me the purple one.
Wouldn't it be a fine thing if I could make it stick
On top of the Methodist steeple?
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“Illusion” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]
Walking beside the tree-peonies,
I saw a beetle
Whose wings were of black lacquer spotted with milk.
I would have caught it,
But it ran from me swiftly
And hid under the stone lotus
Which supports the Statue of Buddha.
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In an Ancient Town [Free Verse]
Tourists walk an ancient town,
Hoping a residue of its past
Will cling to them...
But not too much:
Not the plagues,
Not the torture,
Not the petty monarchs
& aristocrats,
Just some romantic notion.
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BOOK REVIEW: “Becoming Ghost” by Cathy Linh Che
Becoming Ghost: Poetry by Cathy Linh CheMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Publisher Site – Simon & Schuster
This collection is built around the surreal emotionality of the author’s parents having both lived through the war in Vietnam and also having served as extras in the film, Apocalypse Now. [For those unfamiliar, Apocalypse Now was a Francis Ford Copp0la film based loosely (and partially) on Joseph Conrad’s novel,Heart of Darkness. The film follows a military officer sent upriver to assassinate a rogue Special Operations colonel during the Vietnam War, and shows the war from various perspectives as the would-be assassin travels through the country to complete his mission.]
At times, the poems read like a poem-shaped biography, but that’s not all there is to the book. There are points that imagery and language are used to shoot beyond a mere telling of events, in order to create emotional resonance with the core strangeness of living through a traumatic event only to portray a background individual (someone like one’s own past self) in a fictional retelling of events based on those through which one lived.
The poetic forms vary somewhat, though all within the modern, free verse style. Most notably, the author uses the golden shovel approach of Terrence Hayes extensively.
This collection grabbed me both with its clever language and its thought-provoking central premise. I’d highly recommend it for readers of poetry.
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Sunflower Horde [Free Verse]
A horde of sunflowers
Grows on thin stalks
With big, bright heads
That tilt chin-upwards.
Could they stand so tall
And proudly if they weren't
Packed against each other?
When one bitch-slaps a sunflower,
One expects its head to fly
Clean off, but it just does
An angry little head bobble,
And goes about its business,
Looking skyward...
Though - occasionally - one breaks
Into a sad nod.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 