Tag: aprPAD
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AprPAD Day 24.2
A Splash of Water i. A layer of golden pollen and a splash of rain on brown bread toast II. wind sings against the window, splashes of weather that splinter dry dust III. My throat aches for a splash of water and the taste of kind words. for Twiglet #73 It’s National…
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AprPAD Day 24.1
An Anti-Form Poem I am sick of highfaluting poems that rhyme and break at I-am-so-precious points which is why I am writing straight-as-sticks stanzas that are dead and boring and have no trace of punctuation well except for those hyphens for AprPAD Day 24: “An anti-form poem”
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AprPAD Day 24
Those Holes I don’t know about you, but I’m filled with quiet holes. Contemplative holes. Every time a friend dies, or family, it’s another hole. Grief is some sort of unspoken language, and some people just expect you to fill those holes up. A friend died the other day. A man of faith. Love.…
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AprPAD Day 23
The Myth of Planned Obsolescence Two plates are tapping. Tit.tit.titting against each other. I’ve loaded the dishwasher wrong. No, if it open it now, I’ll flood the floor. I hate those dishes anyway. They’re 40-years old, and refuse to break. Won’t even chip. Yeah, I know, they don’t make things like they used to. Damned…
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AprPAD Day 22
I. Tulip (rewritten) A tulip’s deep and echoed voice, a flower fountain, a red streaked revenge. It is a vanity, even in its own shadow. But such beauty drowns in rain. Once loved by spring, now dies away, carried off by a Narcissus glance. AprDay 22: A Plant II. I watched a bee…
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AprPAD Day 21
Tulip Tulip’s sweet and echoing voice. A flower. A cup. Red as revenge. It is a vanity, even in its own shadow. This beauty drowns in rain, once loved by spring, now dies away, as if carried off by Narcissus. Loves longings, deceived. Day 21: AprPAD Danger and NaPoWriMo Narcissus It’s National Poetry Writing…
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AprPAD 20.1
Auntie She drowned in a floral-scent bath, and we all went into nondisclosure. People drowned in the ocean all the time, sink like stone thrones in pools, but if you drowned in a bathtub, everyone’s full of questions that they won’t ask. They think pills or booze or both. It was both in her case.…
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AprPAD Day 20
The Limits There’s a gulf Between here and there. This town Is toughest at its limits, Hard as darkness, It ignores moonlight. The dogs howl out there. Don’t know why, and No one asks whether It’s rapture or despair. Dogs Mimic their owners, An ill-fated fang is reason enough Not to ask. NaPoWriMo:…
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AprPAD Day 19
I. (for AprPAD ___ Thread) A Garden Thread Those stepping stones, he said, are gravestones. Shallow graves. The brick wall is a pirate’s plank, and there are fangs in the laurel bush, and a spy at the bedroom window. The apple trees have ears — shhhhh, he listens, trees talk to the robins, but for…
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AprPAD Day 17.1
(An Untitled Anti-Love Poem) There are times, when her voice grates, the way she speaks too true, to bruise, to lose her burdens on another, and no thought for someone’s time. Today I speedily walked on by. AprPAD Day 17 Write a love and anti-love poem. This is fiction; I don’t know anyone…
It's Still Life 