Sestina!

I wrote a poem that has form. And it's 39 lines. See if you can figure out the pattern.

Hold your breath and dive into the water,
Feel the saltiness whirl around your mouth.
The ocean and the sky merge into one,
The hot sand warms in the cold winter.
The scents from Puerto Rican cuisine burns
Your nose as you try to remember home.

You’re remembering the place called home,
As you drink Gatorade instead of water.
The pang of loneliness burns
Your heart which is stuck in your mouth.
You guess at “how many” snowflakes this winter,
While you’re stuck under a sun of one.

You’re trying to guess which one
Number you should phone to home.
Your heart seems full of winter;
It will not melt with the warm ocean water.
Words twist inside and curl in your mouth,
As they wait on your tongue and burn.

The hot humid air outside burns,
As you sit at a table for one.
You lift warm cinnamon buns into your mouth,
Like Aunt Corrine’s with raisins back at home.
You look out at the aquamarine water,
Wishing that spring would absolve winter.

Here in this gorgeous place it is not really winter
As shown by your shoulders that are burned.
Swimming in a pool of clean pure water
You feel as if this place and you are one.
You almost wish to call it home,
But the word gets caught between your tongue and mouth.

The hot liquid you pour on your lips and mouth,
And the snowflakes from previous winter’s,
Seem to coil around the mention of home.
All your memories seem to churn and burn,
Until they are melded into one,
Like the ebb and flow of two ocean’s waters.

The ache of home seems to tighten your mouth,
Until you get back to pool water in Provo winter.
Then the burn of Puerto Rico bends your heart in one.

once and now

Once I crashed my bike.
Now I have a scar.

Once I conversed in Russian every day.
Now I fear I'm forgetting a bit of it every day.

Once I didn't like tomatoes.
Now I love them.

Once I climbed Squaw Peak with Sierra.
Now she's in New York.

Once I picked huckleberries.
Now they rest in the freezer.

Once I got a scary phone call in the night.
Now I hope to never get one again.

Once I held baby Josh.
Now he will still cuddle-bug, but he's no baby.

Once I threw an apple through a window.
Now I laugh at that me.

Once I was.
Now I am.
Soon I will be.

zephyr

Sketch of a bird.

Snatch of conversation.

A broken button.

You turn the pages.

Pencil captured the bird.

Mind remembered words.

Tape holds down the three pieces.

The feathers remind you of a rainy morning.

Clouds hindered the sun as you looked out the window.

You held your cup of tea and upped Neil Young’s volume.

The assumed dialogue becomes a soliloquy.

A man and his dementia battle it out.

One voice. Two tones.

The three uneven pieces beg you to finger their crags.

One hole remains intact.

Makes you ponder your own heart’s shape.

This is really rough. Wrote in less than 10 minutes. Nat, don't be befuddled if you don't find any meaning because I don't always write meaningfully. These words just came out. I like some of the lines. Maybe I'll come back and work with it one day. For now, it's just been nice to have a little lunchtime diversion.

don't ask me what it means, it's late, you're all great

Why am I listening to Christmas music on Halloween?

Is it like when I eat oatmeal plain with cold milk?
Or is it like wearing a tide kick shirt?

Maybe it's like shanksing my loved ones?
Or is it the calming sound of living in a city of immigrants?

Am i a blue elephant who can't make up his mind?
Or am i the bright red leaf who doesn't dare fall?

And maybe i'm just like you
and you're just like me.

I want to
runrunrunrunbikebikebike
away
and
far
away.

leave my heart behind
in the dust of my body's sweat.

but I always come back to this--
my heart.

it cannot be left behind.

and, blessedly so, I suppose.
for it helps me in so many other ways.

I feel love from above,

love all around,

love on the ground.

in the mood for Stephen Crane

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter - bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.”

Shadows

I had to write a poem for my Creative Writing. Here is my offering.

I never saw a velvet sky until tonight—
Walking onto campus to take my science test.
While molecules of information,
Whirled in my mind like Brownian motion.

Students were dark shadowy figures creeping quietly.
Someone whistled briefly-then quickly stopped.
Apparently afraid to break the silence
Or that shadows would break into unsettled violence.

My own steps were tentative and scared,
Like each one was increasing the entropy of earth.
My own shadow swung onto my left side
While the girl’s ahead of me was on her right stride.

The trees limbs were spider legs on the ground,
Crawling slowly to the edges of my sneakers.
The testing center was painted dungeon black,
From the shadows of the other building’s backs.

Before I stepped into the gloomy dark,
I looked up and caught my breath.
Purple stars pressed against the dusky blue sky,
Their own shadows totally invisible.