I am sometimes obsessed with
My grammar, being very careful with my pro-nun-ci-a-tion,
Plus I need to e-nun-ci-ate so
People can understand me and not say huh?
Category: Poetry (Page 2 of 3)
Which other graceful swan of music holds such serenity in your arpeggios?
You, the most magnificent of piano preludes host more meaning ion the pure simplicity of your tonic triads,
Your C-E-G-C patterns which form such gaps that nothing else but a major third can go between,
I was inspired to write this poem after visiting the Turell Skyspace at Rice University.
I listen
When they come to see me they talk
They can’t help doing it so I don’t blame them
But the conversations!
Did you turn the stove off before we left?
Aww, look, a birdie.
Their laughter rumbles like happy thunder
And their sighs whisper like lonely wind.
I dig through the pile of things thrift-store bound
A collection of never-minds confined in paper bags.
There’s my leggings with a hole in the knee
A slightly squished hat which I examine, shake out, and crown myself
Some ugly sandals (glad somebody’s getting rid of them)
A purple swimsuit cover-up which wasn’t needed in the first place
And a soft gray shirt with an elephant on it.
A nest in our blackberry bush
Just a little nest, Mockingbird
Little sticks criss-crossed
Pine needles lined its inside.
Every night, before the sun
Goes totally behind the trees
Bertha, entering the run
Listens to the evening breeze.
He was a sleek and shiny cat,
With eyes of vibrant green
And fur that was a brilliant black,
No prettier cat was seen.
“Spin,” said the sun to the earth
“Cry,” said the earth to the rain
“Grow,” said the rain to the plants
Last night, I sat down on my bed
And thought, as thinking is habit for me,
Of all the books that I had read
And all the stitches that were worked by me.