Ode to Josh's Shoe

note: Josh was sitting with one leg crossed over the other so his foot was up in the air

Josh's brown shoe looking sideways at me
Three feet up and it sees so much
But the world's still sideways

Laces pulled tight holding tongue well in place
Bow hanging low, dangling to and fro
'Cause it's an important, slow job

Sole firm and stern feeling glad for a rest
From keeping his feet off the cold of the street
Through snow and ice

Sock hiding there, riding safe, soft and tall
Unseen and humble, cushioning everything
Like toes and ankles

Minutes: 15 January 2009

15 Jan 2009: The first Altoid poeticization session of the new year.
Attending: Megan, Diane, Josh, and Sarah, with Gabe "observing" (i.e. doing his homework in the same room as us).

Free write topics/titles:

• Megan: a shipwreck
• Diane: Poet's Query (she just posted it here on the blog)
• Josh: first 8 lines of a happy sonnet. (This provoked discussion of why it's often easier to write depressing poetry.)
  
• Sarah: the water polo game!
• Gabe: ATATATGCCCCCGCCGTCACTCA (he was working on bioinformatics stuff -- very poetic)

We read a couple of ode-ish sonnets: "To Night" and "To Science". I was planning on reading Kim's recently completed Black and White poem, but I forgot until too late :-(

Closing free write didn't happen this time. Instead, we concluded by discussing the possibility of having a Special Shakespeare Edition of the Altoids -- getting together to read a play, maybe combined with dinner??

Thanks for coming those who did, and those who didn't, feel free to come next week! (Thursday lounge 9pm or apt 304 if lounge is occupied)

"Poet's Query"

What shall I write of?
It seems the books
are bursting at the bindings
with poems of love
or nature's glories:
of rain, leaving tear stains
on Mother Nature's weathered cheeks.
Surely this should not add to the masses.
What is my purpose?
Shall I write with hopes
to change a life, a nation?
or to simply scrawl my thoughts down,
leaving this, my fragile poem
unfinished and...

Black and White

I used to think
in black and white
A thing was wrong
or a thing was right

Why don't you think
the way I do?
What's right for me
is right for you.

But then one day,
twixt dusk and dawn
I saw the grey
come creeping on.

I stumbled--
There was naught to grasp
No absolute
for me to grasp

But on I pressed
through mists of dark
Not quite depressed
Yet not a lark

And as I toiled
throughout the day
A guiding hand
Showed me the way

And through the struggle
I gained strength
and hope sprang up
Until at length

A shaft of light
pierced through the gloom
And in my heart
I felt more room

The fog was broken
by the beams
of Daybreaks'
diamond dewy dreams

A thousand colors,
shades and hues
Of purple, orange
reds and blues

Danced across
the damask skies
Till teardrops glistened
On my eyes

The golden morning
sailed on
Yet in my mem'ry
It lives on

That day when first
I learned to see
The rainbow's
Multiplicity

And when I'm tempted
to give voice
to judgment
on another's choice

I feel the glory
of that day
And then I'm thankful
for the grey.

2 poems (kind of)

For those of you that did not make it to our last poetry night, this is actually a 2 part poem. (Special thanks to Diane for inspiring me to write it.)

Part 1: Overloaded

Blank
Clear
Cramped
Tired
Yawn
What?
Oh
Right
Poetry
Night
Silver
Bells
Christmas
Smells
Good
Cheer
New
Year
Finals
Done
Lots of
Fun
No more
School
Holidays
Rule!

Part 2: Still

I
feel
my
sanity
trickling
down
drop
by
drop
drip
drip
drip
d
r
i
p
p
i
n
g
down
to
the
land
of
forgotten
facts
years
of
cramming
crunched
and
crammed
right
out
of
my
mind

Perspective

Gloomy, burdened, dark with pain
It’s cause I could not find
It slowed my step and thoughts of me
Were flooding up my mind.

Then suddenly, through some small sort
Of miracle I guess,
The cold wind stilled and sunshine brightly
Lit upon my face.

I felt such joy and gratitude
And that I will get by.
I am convinced it was a gift,
That comfort from the sky.

Epitaph Upon A Dream (For Tender Hearts)

When everything's all wrong
And, in that life that you imagined,
Someone else now plays your part,
Sings the same unsuspecting song
Now lingering in your memory,
A dirge for all that will not be –

When the sight of the unobtained
Brings longing's cold and bitter fire,
The black despair of condemned desire
By God and man alike disdained,
Back to your heart, and secret tears
Burst forth when no one else can hear –

And when the pledge of love was glibly made
And at last you thought your heart would rest,
The words now echo in your ears
And, evidence of trust betrayed,
Stand an epitaph upon the dream
Now buried here by hope's deceit –

Weep – and know I weep with you.