Prose to Poetry- narrative

I thought it was right at the time
A recipe for success
He looked at me through tousled hair
His smile did the rest

I think I gave him too much credit
Built up my trust
Drawn like a bee to honey
He was only in lust

Seeing small and blond
He believed his penis and confessed
I was wrong again
To recover, I need some kind of recompense

Prose to Poetry

The men fell through once again
Our start destined for success
Sheepish tousled hair, but then
Once more they regressed

Our start was destined for success
A bee to his honey smile
Once more he regressed
He stuck around only for a short while

A bee to his honey smile
I basked in love’s sun
He stuck around only for a short while
Once he had his fill of fun

I basked in love’s sun
This one dark, full of mystery
Once he had his fill of fun
He left, as soon as he knew my history

This world is dark, full of mystery
Our start was destined for success
He left, as soon as he knew my history
The men fell through again.

Reappropiated poem

we hopped on lilies
padded, down the lane

peeked around the garden path
crawled under bush and benches

wondering where on our treasure map
we can unearth unknown discoveries

bursting out safely from the bramble prison
urged on, digging down through the ordered flowers

we found what we were looking for. amusement for hours.

Pink Palace

The glorious rose stands tall and alone
framed by navy night sparkling quiet
embracing the chateau as its own home
comfort wrapped in darkness staying silent

Trees lend perspective, bare twig forest brown
garden encircling, fencing out the world
texture of nature landscapes the grounds
secret lives of surrounding tales unfurl

Hardened paper of pastel perfection
Shrunken beauty stately in repose
Mirrors of thought looking in the mansion
A safe haven lovely and enclosed

Containment of all outside emotion
Glued still for inviolate devotion

sonnet inspired by Joseph Cornell’s Pink Palace

Difference

I thought I’d fix a future
Maybe save a life
I’d be the change I want to see
I wanted clearer sight

I wrote a forthright letter
Decided to recycle my coke
Picked up someone’s garbage
A feeling tickled my throat

I laughed out loud
Amused, I would presume
Change is what I make it
Moving life should consume

Out of the way changes
Rather than still passing strangers

Discovery

You said to me,
old maps
are filled with keys
to discover
treasure
at your leisure
among the garden paths
Translate then to the orchard
find more flowers than the last
unearth new soil
hidden lilypads
upturning the bullfrogs
that linger fat

Things Not to Do in Spring

Pretend the work isn’t there
One doesn’t need to call til summer
Mate according to the season
Let the sun sway your will
Where a sweater to spite the weather
Eat only the cooler things
Stay inside to concentrate
Tell the teacher what you want
Plug in to access elsewhere
Wait out the Spring

On the Building of Boxes

Lady Godiva was a master of situations
She could turn pointed conversation over cucumber sandwiches
Unfazed, she could stroll across a twilight beach
Talk back to the creaking rollercoaster
Refuse to acknowledge the computer died
Her savor for adventure made me draw closer
We heard the rustles in the grass and talk
And proceeded to ruffle the feathers
Even together, she wouldn’t let me deeper
Into her history

Fresh Planes

Shards of broken paper
Scattered for the world to see

Lying in helpless semicircles
Lines, notecards floating endlessly

Heaps of muddled explanations
Huddled frustrations clouding to be free

Used so as to be neatly shuffled away
Ushered onto new subjects and opportunity

Translation poem- Li Bai

下終南山遺斛斯山人宿置酒
暮從碧山下，山月隨人歸。
卻顧所來徑，蒼蒼橫翠微。
相攜及田家，童稚開荊扉。
綠竹入幽徑，青蘿拂行衣。
歡言得所憩，美酒聊共揮。
長歌吟松風，曲盡河星稀。
我醉君復樂，陶然共忘機。

http://www.legacy1.net/poems/libai_nanshan.html

Even as I sit

I observe the cars, shining silver.
Passing through, past my flowers.
Delicate nature, through a window.
Soft spring leaves, slowly turning.
Remaining still, reading people.
Everyone is contained, in themself.
Trees in gardens, watching time.

I found this poem by Li Bai, one of the most famous Chinese poets. They didn’t have cars when he was writing, but I felt my poem worked. I looked at the characters for inspiration, though I read them backwards.