Spider Haiku

I tried to work on my novel tonight at my writing group, however, there was a spider on the wall above my head and, well, I got distracted.


spider on the wall
moves gingerly away from me
I am still afraid


its stillness scares me
when sighted it starts to move
a whole new terror!


I know I am safe
from this tiny predator
someone tell my heart


his eight are no match
for any of my four limbs
still, I can't kill him


ltv

Invisible Fountain: Middle-Aged Freaks of The Spoken Word

Last night I participated in a poetry reading event at the Invisible Fountain Art Gallery in the Eastworks Building in Easthampton. It was entitled "Middle-Aged Freaks of the Spoken Word: Poetry from the Gut". And while I may still be a couple of years shy of middle-age, I was welcomed to read and was well-received by the crowd. I'm not going to repost every poem I read but I will list them and include the two new ones I wrote yesterday.

I started with this short piece:

are you hungry
for me
for all of me
will I satisfy
your desire
will you spit out
the bitter parts
the parts that
are unexpected
do you have a taste
for me
for all of me
not just
when I am sweet
or hungry for you

ltv


Next I read "Getaway" which I think I posted elsewhere some time around the end of February.

Next I read these two new ones:

Rickrolled

the radio dial
cannot be switched
fast enough away
from the electronic
pulses alternating
with synthetic drums
before the melody creeps
seeps into the brain
and you know you are doomed

after the fourteenth time
it repeats in your head
"I'm never gonna give you up"
mocks you with a cheery upbeat
and you just can't help
screaming silently
as you feel your body sway
to the inane lyrics still
traipsing through your synapses
you give in to the inevitability
of a lip-synching Rick Astley
theme song accompanying you
through life unless you are lucky
enough to stumble upon that
"Baby Back Ribs" commercial

ltv


Sexy Bitch

even at work
on a Wednesday
her hair is loose and wild
around her made-up face
her hand finds a place
smack on the back
pocket of her jeans
which are delightfully tight
because she doesn't say no
to potato chips or M&M's since
my ass doesn't get this big on its own
she quips with a wink
she thinks everyone's lucky
to be amused by her wit
and she has that "IT" that makes
everyone forgiving
of inappropriate innuendos
which go straight to a place
nowhere near our brains
she reigns over sexuality
as if it's a formality to brush aside
playfully along with an errant
touch as she passes too closely
by you in the doorway

ltv


I ended with "Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, Feelings" which I had previously retired from public readings since I had gotten sick of doing it. But, I did it a little differently this time (which apparently was well-liked) and all was good. I am kicking myself for not recording it, especially since I bought a digital recorder with some Christmas money last year specifically for the purpose of recording my readings to post in blogs. The event was recorded for Northampton Community Television. So, if any of you have Northampton local access cable channels, then look for the broadcast of the event. Everyone who read was wonderful. I don't think there was a bad poem in the bunch. My friend Anita read an absolutely haunting poem about Hitler (I will try to get her permission to post it, but she is shy about such things.) The last line just stops you dead.

My thanks go out to Tommy Twilite and Carl Russo co-founders of the Florence Poets Society and to Luke Cavagnac of The Invisible Fountain for hosting this wonderful event as part of Easthampton's Art Walk.

Acceptance

Finally a new poem! Just in time for the Invisible Fountain Poetry Reading on April 12th at 7-9pm in the Eastworks Building (tell your friends). Here is the official blurb about it:

The Middle Aged Freaks Of The Spoken Word, Poetry From The Gut
7-9 pm, Saturday, April 12, 2008 at Invisible Fountain, Eastworks Building, Easthampton.
come early if you want to (6-6:30 ish) for art gazing, food, fun, fellowship and set-up.
and tell all your freaky friends!

I'm not sure this is the right type of poem for that venue so I am hoping to write some freakier ones for the occasion.


Acceptance

she will never again
wear these clothes
carefully folded
with the wrinkles
smoothed flat
finally being donated
to some cause
she held dear
to her heart
these weren't the outfits
she bought hoping
she would lose
those extra thirty pounds
these were her favorites
the ones she wore regularly
Monday's pink sweater set
which made her happy
to start each week
the comfy grey flannels
she wore even in the Summer
but with a T-shirt instead
of the plaid button-down top
her dressy dress
with the fancy stitching
around the swoop neck
these were the ones
that still carried
not just the scent
of her perfume
but the memories
he would always cherish

ltv
4/5/08