Living Water

I think I've become the only person who posts on here... The curiously poetic Altoids has kind of died but I still like writing poetry and I wrote this for a Sunday School challenge they had.

Living Water

Another day, another chore, another empty bucket
I hear a distant splash as I let the pail plummet
Then heaving, yanking, pulling, tugging
Sweat dripping, hands burning
The bucket slowly reappears,
I take a sip, my weary heart cheers
Cool clear water, fresh and sweet
Is pure relief in the desert heat

Then I notice him staring at me
A Jewish man travelling to Gallilea
He ask if he too may have a drink
I simply don't know what to think.

"I'm a maid of Samaria, its plain to see.
How is it you ask this task of me?"

His eyes sparkle, his smile grows broad,
"If you knew the gift of God
And who I am, you would think
To ask of me for a drink.
I would have given thee living waters and then
You would never thirst again."

"How could you draw this living water?
You have no vessel, the well is deep.
Are you greater than Jacob, our father,
Who dug this well for his kin and sheep?"

You'll never thirst again,"
He spoke, "for those who drink this water that I bring"
Shall have a well spring up in him
Into life everlasting."

Dear friends, I bid thee, come and see
This man, this prophet, the Messiah He coule be.
My heart whispers to me its so
For all things he did truly know
And though my soul felt withered through
His words refreshed my spirit anew.

Lets cast away our water pots, lets test the living waters,
Discover for ourselves the truth of what he freely offers.

Scuba Poem

Its been a while since we've had poetry club. Heres a post from tonight though. :D


Scuba

They say it’s like breathing for the first time.
I don’t know how they’d that since they’d be too young to remember,
But I recon it’s probably so.

You feel out of place, awkward.
Big and bulbous, like a beached whale
Fins flop as you enter the water.
You take your role, don your mask, and become a fish incognito

Air fills your lungs.
The initial panic dissipates with each breath.
You take control.
You’re an acquatic Vader, dark and suited
Keeeesh Koosh
You are the master of a new universe.

With the touch of a button your suit deflates and you descend like an astronaut into the great unknown,
You lean forward and flutter forward,
What was once ugly and sluggish is now graceful and beautiful
Like a butterfly taking to the air
Your life as a caterpillar is completely forgotten

A few poems

Hope Chris had a good b-day today (well, yesterday... missed by a half hour). Hopefully other people will remember to post their poems on the blog too. The first poem is about my fish tank. Second poem is about a comment Josh made at the very beginning of poetry club. Last poem is about a comment Jackie made at the end of poetry club.


The Tank
Blue above, blue below.
There’s a whole world I can see out there.
The grand, the exotic, so green and alive,
I want to see it all.
They tell me it would take my breath away.
I would do anything to escape,
Forsake my stripes,
Get away from my fellow prisoners,
Escape their bullying and darting,
Hide from the monsters all around me.
If only I could cross these walls.

No Poetry for Joshua
You’re not allowed to write a poem tonight.
It’s forbidden.
Give up your hopes of coupling couplets, of making rhyme or reason
We won’t tolerate any of your limericks about the green plaid shirt you’re wearing
You have no permission to record your thoughts on name recognition
Mexican Holidays stanzas are illegal immigrants in Poetry Clubia
Haiku’s about ninjas? Ummmm.... No.
Say nada to sonnets about Trombones-a
The rhythm and words streaming into your mind from elsewhere cannot be put on paper.


Not a poem about Jackie
I won’t ever ever ever ever ever write a poem about Jackie
I simply won’t write a rhyme,
About how I think she’s sublime.
I won’t let myself ramble about her quantum chemistry, tree climbing, mad Frisbee catching skills.
No, I won’t remind everyone how intimidating her awesomeness can be,
Especially to the guys.
I shouldn’t sneakily slip in lines about Jackie’s sinister laughs, her well executed pranks.
I’ll stop thinking about all the stanzas I could be typing about her perfect sense of humor.
Let’s face it, her intellectual brilliance radiates like a thousand suns.
I simply won’t recite the epic victory of when she successfully ate ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
I’m only allowed to pretend I’m writing a poem about how much I love her face.

No… I can’t write a poem about Jackie so I’ll write about something else.
How about cheese?!? I love cheese.
Cheese is… well, cheesy
There! Wasn’t that a great poem not about Jackie?

Greetings from Georgia

Hi everyone! I hope you have continued to poeticize in my absence. There have been far too few blog posts for your absentee members.

Since I am no longer an Altoid, I've started my own blog for my poetry and other writings. Currently I am finishing up posts of previously written poems, including those that debuted right here, but I plan to continue writing and posting poems or works in progress.

If you promise to post something here, I will let you read my blog.

-Chris

Coming Back Home

This is something I was supposed to post forever ago. Just barely found it again. This first poem is from an FHE nursery rhyme activity. The others are my own work.

The Fall of the House of Humpty

Once upon a midnight dreary
While Humpty wondered weak and weary
"Did I come before the chicken?"
At that moment he was stricken
By the raven and he plunged off the wall
wall, wall, wall, wall, wall, wall, wall.
And Great was the fall of the house of Humpty.

In a city by the sea,
So all the night tide,
He lay down by the side of
All the kings horses and all the king's men.
Who dare not put humpty together
Nevermore- for they feared the beating of the tell tale yolk
Yolk, yolk, yolk, Yolk, Yolk, Yolk, Yolk.
Put together
Nevermore



The Night

After midnight, everything is beautiful
When the world slows down just long enough for you to catch it in both hands.
Gaze at it,
Peaceful, Cool, Crisp
See clearly in the darkness
Focus on the things that matter most.
You wish you could stop the hours rolling by.
Protect the precious night
But dawn always breaks.


Coming Back Home

When I come back home
it feels like everything should be exactly the way I left it.
The way its always been.
Sheltered, protected,
Preserved like a historic brick building
An ancient monument,
Forever in a snow globe,
My memories trapped in a timeless bubble.

Yet each time I come home
I see that fragile bubble has popped.
The businesses and buildings have shifted about like pieces on a checker board
Those friendly old faces seem the same
But the people behind them aren't who they used to be.

New faces are everywhere.
They look at me as if I'm the novelty
They don't know that this is still my place.

College Apps Are A Very Serious Business

Disaster, catastrophe --
I left out an apostrophe
On my essays to Princeton and Yale!
Oh woe is me now
For I do not see how
To avoid an embarrassing tale
Of how I will miss
Out on Ivy League bliss
For my Stanford dreams ere now looked pale.
If my Harvard hopes dim
And to Berkeley seems grim,
'Fore my classmates I'll tremble and quail.
It would be a disgrace
After my S.A.T. ace
If to Davis I creep like a snail!

Palo Alto Limerick

When biking through Silicon Valley
Where redwoods and palms share an alley
Organic-grown food
Puts you right in the mood
To attend the green energy rally.

Palo Alto Snapshot

"Do you have this book in Russian?"
Asks the French mother
Of the Thai librarian
While the taciturn Korean man
Watches Jewish kids scamper
Up the eucalyptus trees.
Across the street, the tennis courts
Pound out a rhythm
For the old men playing chess
Built into the picnic tables
And the skaters acting out
A chess of their own on wheels.
It's May, but it's hot enough
For the fountain the toddlers play in.
This. Mitchell Park.

Chiasmatic Night

Dusk.
Crickets.
The thrill of social company and recreational time use enthrall me.
A light appears -- a star? Nay, a planet. Very bright, large, bluish; must be Venus.
I settle into that mode where at last I know I want to sleep, but it's not too difficult to keep active as long as I am occupied.
Clouds obscure the wonders of the firmament.
Somewhere in the deepness, if I am careful to note it, there is a contemplative moment of communion with the Creator, when he finds my exhausted mental state transparent to his missives.
Now the stars and galaxies shine clear in the silence.
My brain is ... Uh ... Sorry, what was I saying? No, I'm awake ... I think ...
Beneath the stars, the landscape sits dark and silent, through the hours most of humanity dares not to broach.
I am past the hardest part. Though I am dull of wit, my body surges with a new effort.
Birds pierce the silence.
Dawn.

Chemistry for the Non-Chemist

Ode to OChem
Oh the glassware, shiny clean,
Even better found, when with benzene.
KBr plates, scratched and dull,
Solids, nujol, in mull.
How the tranquil sodium sulfate doth lay,
To form the decahydrate, it's known to play.
But forget not, into a flask bestowing,
How else can we know, if it's free-flowing?
Now watch yourself, for Mrs. Hinshaws shout,
The times run down, we're done, get out!

pH Strips
The unknown awaits me,
I haven't a clue!
Will this small orange papers life
End in red, yellow, or blue?
Approaching, ever nearing,
The drip --- it has dropped.
Ah, alas, it is the undoing
Of suspension and fear
I now can determine,
From acid or base need I steer clear!

Distractions
There lies the table, clean with no mess,
Waiting for books, homework, possibly some stress.
calmly seated, pencil ready, my brain is almost there,
The solutions are within my reaching, each compound drawn with care.

Then comes in my bench partner, named Jacob, full of news and life,
Fifteen minutes I must wait, as he relays some trivial strife
Then it's over, his earplugs in, I'm ready to begin,
The pencils down, the thought it's there... then someone new comes in.

His major it is physics, his mouth it moves quite fast,
A friend met on my mission, with15 minutes to pass.
But then he's gone, some task to complete,
And I am left once more, left to some OChem feat.

I've managed one molecule, benzene, it's almost done,
But alas, a wardly friend, looking for some fun.
I am not rude, I answer back,
And for some time conversation doesn't lack.

By now my hour has run out, into the second I'm now moving,
And after all this time, one fact, I feel like proving.
The study area, Fishbowl- its name we can deduce,
If ever homework I feel like doing, It needs be I become a recluse!

Thirsty?
A beaker is simply a cup.
It holds liquids, it holds ions,
From it surely one may sup.
But one must be wary, one must be sure,
Of the contents held within, of the contents, are they pure?

The liquid could be acid,
Halogenated it might be,
A carcinogen hypothetically,
Some sort of base possibly?

Will it tear you inside out, will it make you scream?
Will it cause you much bleeding, will it produce many steams?
For as a beaker is simply, is surely, only a cup.
You can never be too sure if death,
Lies on the other side, as you sup.

A Popping
I strode across the room and to myself said:
"Why do ears pop?"

they are not part
of a percussion band.

Ears are not full
Of fizz in a can.

Even small sugary rocks
do not involve ears in their making.

Nor are they a father figure.
or a grandfather for the taking

The truth is this:
A Eustachian tube

The pressures are off,
And so it moves.

Adjusts if you will
To the many air tides

And makes you quite normal,
From the ears to insides.

What are Your Questions?
The questions they come, the questions they go,
Some are quite clever, others quite low.
But the best of all, the ones up on top,
Are the ones that make laughter, and even breath stop.

Poetry from the last few months.

Yay!! I'm finally on the blog! This is kinda long so... uh, sorry.

The Only Reasonable Explanation
I dedicate this poem to Josh for finally getting me on the blog.

He's been kidnapped by pirates!!
Swarthy, stinking, seaworthy, swashbuckling pirates.
Its the only reasonable explanation
He was minding his own business when they ambushed his apartment on the third floor.
Glass shattered as a peg leg kicked in the window.
His roommates heard the rustling and rumbling,
Shouting and Parrot's squawking,
Heave Ho's and Avasts!!
However, by the time they got out to the living room they had cleaned up,
Cleared out,
Sailed off.
Not a shard of glass was left behind.

Soon he stood aboard a magnificent vessel charging across the ocean blue!
(You may wonder how the pirates and their kidnappee got out to the ocean.
I don't know.
I'm just stating the facts here.)
The ocean waves crashed and sprayed as the bonny sea breeze filled the majestic sails.
The Jolly Roger smiled as the sounds of Yo ho hos and Shiber me timbers filled the salty sea air.
However, all he could hear was his knees knocking, heart racing,
The thumping of boots
The captain approached his new prisoner.
Hush filled the deck as the ruffions watched in awe.
He glowers down and with a sneer bellows,
"Off the plank with him!!"

As he stood at the edge of the plank,
staring at his soon to be watery grave below,
He remembered how he ought to be at poetry night.
This wouldn't have happened if he'd been there
Too late was his lesson learned,
that you should be at the right place at the right time.
And most of all.
All those who skip poetry night become shark fodder.


The Refrigerator Door

I set the milk on the counter and shut the refrigerator door.
I notice they're staring at me.
Well, some of them.
Others are gazing into each others' eyes, lost in their own little world.
Holding hands, whispering sweet nothings into their sweetheart's ear.
All of them smiling. Always smiling.
Knowing their reality is better than their dreams
Their lives are full of magic, all is beautiful.
Their perfect joy captured in a photo,
Like the dozens of photos that greet me each morning
As I drown my frosted mini-spooners...
And I'm out of milk... ::sigh::

Petrogliffs

The best way to chop the emense charcoaled log was to throw it off a thirty foot sandstone cliff.
At least thats the way it appeared.
The two lumbered slowly to the highest peak
Shifting and skidding with sand filled shoes
With log raised high
And a mighty warrior's cry
The blakened timber flew threw the air
Soared, spiraled, and...
The stump didn't so much as splinter
Leaving not but a sooty mark on the rusty rocks.
At that moement savegery struck.
Darkened hands donned the signs of warriors
Ebony stripes crossed heathen cheeks
Crumbling chuncks of cedar create
Epic battles, lightning strikes,
Swirling smoke round a roaring fire
Beating, thundering, bursting from the stone.
A petrogliff is worth a thousand words.


Laundry Day

There it is.
A horrendous mountain.
A smelly eyesore by your bedside.
You've tried to ignore it
Pretend you don't want to wear your favorite blouse.
Pretend that you're not down to two pairs of socks.
However, you can pretend no longer
It has to go.

You awkwardly amble down the stairs,
Hoping all the good machines aren't taken.
Dark side versus light side.
Thick bloo goo that smells like an Irish spring globs to the bottom of the washer.
A dollar later tha machine is working its magic.

Sudsing and swirling in a vicious vortex of towels, t-shirts, and jeans
Later you aid a soggy migration to a warmer climate.
The rumbling, tumbling, tossing, and turning lightens until at last you unload.

Hot, steamy, fresh, delicious.
It makes you think of warm blankets on a stormy night,
The crisp clean air of a summer rain,
Teddy bears in creepy commercials?...

Pressed, folded, stowed away.
All is in order.
For two weeks, anyways.



Death of the Coulter 750

I love you my dear robots
You greet me every night
And like a choir of R2D2s
Sing me sweet lullabies

pSHHH... errr, tsh tsh tsh, clicka clicka clicka, beep
Tap, snap, chunka, thump,
whir, purr, hum, rumble, ERRK, GRIND, EEEEE!

I rouse from my night dream
Like a mother stirring to aid her howling infant
Wondering whats wrong this time

I lift your cover, open your mechanic soul, and gaze deep within.
Wires and tubing
Gears and slides,
They usually dance in a seamless waltz.
They now lay still in a pool of blood.

Precious analyzer, you're too beautiful to die.
May I be your Dr. Frankenstein and bring you back to life?
No... I must face the dawn alone.



ICA

The first step to overcoming an addiction is admitting you have a problem.
Hello everyone. I'm Jill Schuler and I'm addicted to ice cream.
Can you blame me?
So cool and creamy like...
NO! No more!

I tell myself I shall overcome this.
I tell myself I won't buy any, not this week.
And then I glance down the frozen food isle.
Its like a party down there.
Everyone is laughing and smiling.
I glance side to side to ensure I'm not caught...
Not that it matters, I'll only be looking.
It can't hurt to look.

I notice the vanilla, chocolate, Neapolitan.
I can resist. I don't need them.
But suddenly I notice the moose tracks.
The moose is a very majestic creature.
Its as if its guarding the Caramels praline.
A worthy cause. It does look particularly valuable in all its golden splendor.
Rocky Road, the pathway to bliss.
Peanut Brittle, brittle like my will to resist.
Macadamia Crunch, Fudge swirl, Cookie Dough,
EVERYTHING BUT THE!!!

Its as if a light from heaven shines upon each pint.
That might just be the light from the freezer...
Meh, same diff.
Well.... I guess I'll be better next week.


The Cell: A Biological Prison

Blast! A Blast!! A lymphoblast to be precise.
You are hereby declared to be a juvenille delinquent of the blood stream.
You are hereby sentenced to be trapped forever in the prison
To spend the rest of your life surrounded by cells.

The cells are everywhere
Nucleus lobed in ugly blebs
Cytoplasm so blue that no smile could ever cheer it again.
Basophils with granules as black as its soul

How alone a lymphoblast must feel, so young.
Its nucleus still smooth
Its nuclei still clean and fresh.
It should still be back in the marrow
Where life was safe and calm.

Why did it rush into the fast lane.
Endopoies into the turbulence of the arteries and veins.
Up through a needle, smeared on a slide.
Stained and illuminated.



Snakes

As I sat upon the shore
To view lake, rocks, and sky
An old sunbathing serpent
Happened to cross my eye.

Many a time before
I've come across a snake.
Sneaking, slithering, startling,
They made me squeal and shake.

But spying this simple reptile
Before he spotted me
Made me really wonder
Why I each time did flee.

His head no bigger than a nut
Would crunch beneath my heel
If I but took a faulty step.
How would that make him feel?

Many a snake may cross our path
May make us dread and fear
But our fear could be overcome
If we'd learn, think, see, and hear


Interrupted Dreams

Draped across the couch in the soft silky darkness
I let a smooth summer breeze of cool dreams waft over me.
Sweet, refreshing, delicious.

A sudden blaring erupts the still
Delirium strikes
I flail like a fish on a line
Searching frantically to stop it all.

I mutter into the phone and let their words sweep over me.
Sentences form from their words,
Soothing my racing heart.
The fog over my mind seems to thin as I realize whats happening.
They're trying to tell me something.
I can feel it.

But sleep starts to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.
Becons with promises of calm, peaceful loveliness
Its words are more clear than the prattling of whoever this is.

I mumble and mutter until they finally release me.
I collapse in a weary relief.
Sweet sleep, let me return to your embrace.


That's probably enough poetry for one evening... Back to work with me!

Snakes

Our most recent club night theme was snakes, and these were my contributions:

Hiss
Sibilance of slither:
Sunlight playing on his scales
Shining chords of light.

Dust

On thy belly, pressed as close to earth as skin can be,

a forced embrace of thy mortality

Licking dust until the day to dust thou shalt return,

Tasting ev'ry day the death that comes

And does the bitter venom of this fate

squeeze out the life still nascent in thy birth?

And as thy path twists serpentine away,

dost thou take warmth or coldness from the earth?

Wrath

There is a writhing in your eyes,

coiled deep inside those constricted pupils,

that no tail of snake can match,

and I freeze in fear for the strike.

Desert Snake

Shed this skin, so dry--you're itching to be free

and feel the green caress of grass.

Wind 'round rocks and sit, silent, scale on stone;

raise your head and taste the thirsty air.

Touch

without wings, free of fingers, snake senses all

Ripe

I do not like the way a metaphor smells

   when it has sat around on the counter

   so long that the meaning begins to puddle

   in the bottom of the bag, and the form of it

   begins to grow fuzzy with green

   or orange mildew.

But before that, when it has been around

   just long enough to go a bit sour

   and has the tang of grapes turning

   to wine on the stems; when the skin

   loosens and the juicy fruitness trickles easily

   down your throat, with only a little

   mushy bite —

those are the metaphors that speak

   of warm days in summer,

   and watermelon on the table

   and the phone sitting silent for hours or weeks

   when you wish it wouldn't.

Those are the metaphors that give you

   an uncomfortable feeling

   in your stomach, but only just enough

   that you notice

   and remember it afterwards.

Figments

This week our theme was based on the poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay First Fig and Second Fig. I hope everyone posts theirs! We got quite a variety. My contributions are below.

Next week come prepared with something related to The Love-Hat Relationship by Aaron Belz.

Third Fig

"Reap what you sow," it's said, and "Love

your neighbor as yourself."

Or you can reap his crop instead

for free food on your shelf.

Fourth Fig

From goals delayed anticipate

more joy eventually;

from chances taken now, instead,

you get great memories.

Zeroth Fig

A falling fig, obedient

to force Newtonian,

will travel down until it lands

and not go up again.

Lady Time

She is too grand, too swift to see
in honest gazing, Lady Time.
At her hand we rise, decline,
and the flowing instants flee.

We try our best to euphemize,
to call her by a host of names:
by years, by weeks, by hours, by days;
pretend to conquer a smaller size.

Sitting in her wrinkled presence
frightens me with thoughts of life
that fades into a dimming twilight--
senility in slow senescence.

But Lady Time has gentle hands,
though strong and forceful they may be.
She watches, listens patiently,
and hour by hour she understands.

Pizzicato popcorn

Plink plink plink plunk

Plink plunk plink plunk

Pop! Plink plink plunk

Pop! Plink plunk plink

TWANG!

Ether (Unfinished)

In the days of Coriantumr
The land was full of violence
But one man, faithful,
Stood strong against he wave
And he dwelt
In the cavity
Of a rock.

The preachings of the prophet
Fell unheeded
On dead ears and leaden hearts
Like Noah's warning
Before the rains came.

Like pearls
The prophet's prophesyings fell,
A vision of a better world --
A house for man
Prepared by the Lord
For those who pass
The trial of faith.
But the people saw no vision
And they did not believe
Because they did not see.

Cast out, the prophet was,

Cast back no more to prophesy

But only to haunt again

The cavity of a rock

Wherein to dwell,

Whereat to write

The history of his people.

In those days

There arose one Shiz

Whose terror like a fire flew

From cowering heart to quaking lip --

The plague of fear pandemic.

Twenty-One Ways of Looking at an Eye

I.

II.

Bright light reflecting on retina

Dots dance before

And glaucoma waits

For another day

III.

A circle of black ink

In a field of white

Looks back at me

IV.

So close your eyelash catches mine

So close the veins wind like a maze

Surrounding your eyes

With fitting mystery

V.

The plate slides,

Revealing a hole

Through which photons pour

Like sand down an hourglass

And the silver halide crystals

Remember forever

VI.

Substitute eyes

He promised he’d bring us his eyes in a box.

All 30 of them rolling and clanking into each other as he walked around the classroom.

Worse than having eyes in the back of his head. I felt sorry for him.

VII.

Make up

Pulling, curling, darkening, lining,

Covering, sort-of lying eying

VIII.

Feet

Tired sunburned working man

Life as purposeful as a crow,

and traces of pain in his Eyes.

IX.

The optometrist lights up my eye

And I behold the network

Feeding my vision

My flowing blood

X.

His pupils narrowed in the light

And his ears laid back

As he saw the glassy cat's eyes

Shine to him

Calling him to fight

XI.

A man and a woman are one

A woman and a man with wandering eyes

Soon two

XII.

In my mind I wait for spinning thoughts

To alight on this paper

Each one a decision

And Megan in my peripheral vision.

XIII.

Little hearts of brown

Sprout green when it's time to plant

The potato's eyes.

XIV.

Green as summer,

Green as glass,

Your eyes warm my world

And tint everything I see

Into green

XV.

Glass marbles

Rolling in a glass of water

On top of the piano

Of a blind musician.

Her students grimace, but play on

XVI.

Something about gravity

Weighs down these eyes

And pulls them earthward.

Strain! Lift!

Look up and see the world

XVII.

Glinting in the night,

A predator looks back

From behind the eyes

Of every cat.

XVIII.

Cross my heart and hope to die,

Stick a finger in my eye;

Cross my eyes and poke my heart

I swear that we will never part.

XIX.

Darting back and forth

Twinkling

Unstable as an untrue heart

XX.

Open, close, open, close

I don't know which to prefer

XXI.

My eyes water

Not with feeling

Sad and happy emotions

Are nothing to the potency

Of an onion

The Nurse

Her scrubs are three shades lighter
    than inky midnight blue
prepared for an all-nighter
    in a bold and helpful hue.
This evening her breakfast was
    a cold-cut club on rye,
courage for the next lost cause,
    and a sip of questions "Why?"
And in the bleary weary noon
    she smiles and laughs and prays
before a shift that comes too soon
    where she will do the same.

Poem in your Pocket

April 29 is national Poem in your Pocket day!
(and just in time for our thursday meetings, too.)
Take a copy of a poem with you to have, read, and share.