salsa eyes

one of my favorite poetry books is called 'the daily mirror' written by David Lehman. He chose to write a poem a day for a whole year and publish the best of those poems in this volume. i love that idea and his poetry is so inspiring and is the type of poetry i always strive to write. i love the sound of the words, his way with imagery and capturing a moment and the actual look of the poem on the page. he writes short poems like i do. here is one of my faves that i came across while rereading his work:

May 2

Someday I’d like to go
to Atlantic City with you
not to gamble (just being
there with you is enough
of a gamble) but to ride
the high white breakers
have a Manhattan and listen
to a baritone saxophone
play a tune call "Salsa
Eyes" with you beside me
on a banquette but why
stop there let's go to
Paris in November when
it's raining and we read
the Tribune at La Rotonde
our hotel room has a big
bathtub I knew you'd like
that and we can be a couple
of unknown Americans what
are we waiting for let's go

my poetry published

today i saw my poem published in the four cornered universe literary magazine, so cool!
here is the link to it

http://fourcornereduniverse.com/?p=1594
the funny part is that i submitted about 5 poems, some of which i thought were stronger than the one they actually ended up choosing. i guess this means i should get back to writing poetry since it is apparently publishable? and i thought there weren't really magazines or e zines that would publish my style of poetry. writing poems is hard and takes a lot of work, but it is so rewarding when one comes out exactly the way that you wanted it to, and even when you have to edit a draft a lot to get the one perfect final version. thankfully, my poem 'out in the cold' was not edited in any way. it was published just as i wrote it.

writing and reading poetry is so absorbing, and is something that really should be done on a daily basis. i laugh at my bio underneath my poem because it mentions that i'm currently interested in minimalist living. i am, but it's been slow going. i wish i could get rid of everything in one shot, but it's a work in progress.  i still don't understand how minimalists don't get tired of a limited wardrobe.
i have let go of almost 200 things though, so that's a step in the right direction! its weird when you wish you weren't attached to stuff, and you know you probably wouldn't replace some things if they happened to be lost in a fire or something, but somehow you still can't bring yourself to let go. i'm steadily working on that need to hold on with an iron grip, when it comes to control over all aspects of my life, and trying to let go a bit more and have some peace.

song of the day

dizzy dolls

i just got back from a bust magazinesponsored spoken word poetry event held at the strand bookstore in NYC. i debated back and forth about going since i had no one to go with, but decided to anyway and i'm so glad i did. not only did i get to break my routine, introduce some fresh images to my mind and spend a nice spring evening outdoors walking around, i also found out about 4 great women poets who performed tonight. just for an hour, but it was great and really entertaining. and most importantly reminded me of the power and magic and beauty of poetry- spoken or written.

the poets who performed were Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz, (BUST writer and author of Everything is Everything) Patricia Smith (Blood Dazzler), Amber Tamblyn (Bang Ditto) and Rachel McKibbens (Pink Elephant). they were all great, with unique voices, but the overall standout had to be Patricia Smith. Oh my God. she literally had me breathless. what a completely riveting, engrossing, moving performance she did of her work. the room was filled with people and everyone fell absolutely silent as she spoke, no joke, and hung on her every syllable. listening to her, and the raw emotion in her poetry really made me want to cry. she wrung every emotion out of me and i swiftly bought a copy of her book, Blood Dazzler. this woman is amazing. i cannot stress that enough. she read with this confidence and conviction, grace and elegance that i have never see anyone display when reading their poetry. i would recommend to anyone to see her read her poetry if you have the opportunity. wow! there are not enough words to describe it.

i made the unfortunate decision of buying a frozen mocha drink before the show started and had to bolt to the bathroom the minute the reading was over, and in so doing i missed out on my chance to buy the poetry collection, Bang Ditto by Amber Tamblyn. Apparently they flew off the shelves and ran out before i had a chance to go back to the cart and get my copy, and she also ran out of the copies she was signing up at the front desk. when i finally got up there and grabbed some free copies of bust magazine (i love free stuff!) i heard someone mention that they spoke to management and they said Amber's book was all sold out. so me and a couple of other unfortunate people were left to order our copies online , which would of course not be signed by Amber. oh well.

I really miss poetry readings and i'm so glad that this one was so inspirational and such a delight. wish i had the courage to perform poetry the way those women did.

'dizzy dolls' was a phrase that stuck out to me from one of the poems read, i can't remember which one

what happened?

what happened to my artist's soul?
somewhere along the way it got lost
amongst too many cups of coffee
too many sleepless nights
and out went my ear for poetry
the language betraying me.
I turned around one day, it was gone
I was drowning suddenly in deceit
in this lie I started living
and somewhere in my tears that have all
dried up, my artist's soul remains
crying out with no voice
straining against the city backdrop
of countless conversations, constant
indifference, an endless row of cold
shoulders. somewhere there's the me
longing to take a photo but I
am weighed down, trying to grasp
onto the minutes futily, I know
there's no stopping time, no slowing
for my energy to peak again, to
let out the voices in my head with a
writer's pen, I'm just not ready
to say goodbye yet.

in another time

i think i was still free then
still alive and in a moral way
a red lip stain
some shiny strands, a gleam in the eye
i looked straight ahead
i didn't sense whats coming
i didn't know the truth

being aloof and alone. a mystery.
someone afraid and just holding on
to being someone else, too young, too naive
and yet free, and yet trapped
inside

i chose hiding
it was easier
i chose a shadow instead of shining my light
i think i was alive then
and the air screamed for me to wake-
and take
action, take them all by storm
i turned away
i turned within
became something sullen
became unaware
i grew into their stares, becoming nothing more
than a background figure
a spectator, something perhaps caught in a glimpse
of mist

in a whisper
of words never spoken, a wind that broke
swirling deep inside
i knew then what i don't know now
i was someone else in that yesterday
i spoke to you in dreams and somehow withdrew
all that i was
and all that i knew

it's friday again, thank God

i'm still trying to throw out 50 things. it's been really slow going. so far this is all i have to add to my list:

16. green dress that never fit (too big)
17. black dress that never fit (too tight)
18. brown wooden heart earrings ($1 impulse buy)
19. piece of broken smoke detector i found in my closet
20. old catalogues
21. book, 'writing without the muse'

i got some new clothes from alloy.com that were shipped extremely fast so they arrived today :) so i felt better about getting rid of some older stuff. still wish i could let go of more though so that my closet can breathe. i honestly forget sometimes the clothes that i own, and then certain pieces never get worn. i'm so happy tomorrow is friday. this whole week has been so busy and i feel really tired. i think the hardest part about clearing clutter (besides clothes) is clearing my inbox of old emails. i have books filled with writing exercises, and yet i feel a need to collect even more writing exercises in a folder that i named 'journal jar' in my email inbox. and then i have another folder of inspirational quotes which i never read. and then i have older emails from friends of the past who i wish would return to my life. i tried reaching out to an old friend recently who i used to hang out with a lot but he never replied after his first reply. thought that's probably also because he was busy preparing to leave to japan for his first photography exhibition. i am so jealous. i would love to go to japan someday.

i'm still trying to lose about 5 lbs and it's getting irritating that the scale will not move. i'm 125 now and want to go down to 120. i don't feel comfortable at this weight, even if i look ok. i don't like my pants and dresses fitting tightly, and feeling like my stomach is hanging out. it's hard to eat healthy, but i am trying. i'm forcing myself. i'm drinking more water, eating more fruit, not eating too late at night, trying to keep my meals small. it's not easy. if i have vegetables and meat for dinner lets say, i get so hungry at night before bed. maybe it would help to try to get to bed earlier.

my neighbors in my apartment complex have been extremely loud tonight. it's been nothing but loud banging noises and loud talking outside, and kids running around and screaming and all this, and i'm like what the hell? when did this place turn into the circus? i really wanted to write poetry today, to post something more interesting here, but i just didn't have any inspiration. i couldn't get into that frame of mind at all. so happy that i have 2 long weekends coming up, maybe somehow i can get back to my creativity. it also doesn't help that the photographer behind joesnyc.com (nyc photo blog) has gone on a bunch of vacations and stopped posting pictures for long stretches of time. i really like going to his site each day to see the new photo, and it always makes me happy and sometimes even inspires writing. right now i think his site says that new photos will be returning september 4th. oh well

last weekend i went to see 'district 9' due to my bf's prompting. and i actually really enjoyed it more than i was expecting to. sure was different! i'm so glad project runway is back on the air with a new season. and now they have a spin off show called 'models of the runway' about the models who appear regularly on project runway. finally something to watch on tv! i think i'd rather die than watch courtney and chloe take miami.

most creative when i'm delirious

mr. jaws

debbie harry once had a fish
named mr. jaws
she wore sunglasses on stage
held him up in a bowl
said she was working on the Blondie
character
once i thought i could live
like a child
like her in a world of make believe
-a magazine

where i'd sing something like
'she left me so hot'
lyric penned by men.
where i'd be on rooftops
wearing mini dresses, fringed bangs,
clothes made from pillowcases
looking disaffected.

i would wear reality
like a poem on my sleeve
and obscure my eyes
in a slick blue raincoat
still enough to photograph..

i'd wait for no one.
walking along in a long blue song

the caged bird sings

last night i attended my first class for the next course on my list to get my certificate in editing from NYU. It's called From Writer to Reader: An Introduction to Book Publishing. and it's taught by esther margolis. she founded newmarket press i believe it was back in the 60s, when it was unheard of for a woman to do something like that. she told some amazing stories. like being the only woman in a sales meeting of 300 once, and getting to work with the nobel prize winning poet maya angelou. esther worked on the publicity for one of maya's first books. and she created an event (to be covered by the press) in which maya would speak to school children in harlem.

maya agreed to do so on one condition. she asked esther, 'what will they pay to listen to me speak?' and esther said, 'maya, these are school children in harlem, what do you mean?' and maya said 'it doesn't matter if it's just 10 cents or a quarter. they should pay something because they will listen differently if they have paid to hear me speak. and esther said it was one of the biggest lessons she learned in her career doing publicity for book authors. maya angelou is a poet who's words i fell in love with in high school, and here was this woman who had worked with her, just casually telling the story as if it were anybody. she said maya was extraordinary though. and how could she not be? the kids ended up paying a quarter to get into the auditorium to hear her speak, and the money raised by her appearance did not go to her either, it went to charity.

we also saw a brief video about the publishing business, which featured nikki giovanni. another amazing poet that i love. and i actually never even knew what she looked like. i was encourage by the way that the authors and editors described all the different facets of working in publishing, and how someone could taylor their particular interest into a career in it. they can start as editorial assistants and move their way up all the way to senior editor, or someone could start in administration or HR or even in the legal side in the contracts department, or production, art, or many others. i know there has to be a niche somewhere in their for me. right now i feel like it may be editing. but i'm not absolutely certain yet. i guess it just takes getting your feet wet to see where you most want to end up. the first homework assignment is really interesting which seems promising for the whole course.

Alone

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

-Maya Angelou

poem for the one i love

you come and find me
you come to fix me
show me to live simply
take things slow

i fall into the day
creep along dark corners
you light my way

i close my eyes
pray when the day dawns
put on a green dress

i narrow down
my emotional storms,
hold in my tears
my poems, myself
a lost, wandering spirit
a winded being winding down

getting me to let go
you take my hands
take me down to where
no time can hold me

where rivers run deep
living in a dream
you set me free

today's poem a day challenge from poetic asides

For today's prompt, I want you to pick a color, make that the title of your poem, and write a poem that is inspired by that color.

my response-

aqua

something along shores
of a gently breathing ocean
something along skies
of a breathless train
a falling thundering rain
a newly birthed lifeform
a cresting wave

something solid that overcomes you
turns to liquid, scales back into
blue
you listen for it, hear it among the
birds and wilderness, hear it among
the lakes and waters
vivdly it renders you helpless
as you sink deep

today's poem a day challenge from poetic asides-

For today's poem, I want you to write a poem about something missing. It can be about an actual physical object or something you just can't put your finger on (like "love" or "the spirit of Christmas" or something).

My response-

getting lost

if i were missing
would anyone really care
where i go? would you know
the scent of something
gone? the reasoning behind
it, only i would be running
and escaping and squinting
my eyes in the darkness
only i would be wandering
lost and afraid perhaps i would be
dreaming or calling out your name
i would know that lost
is how i have always felt
a moth flitting along
some train tracks, a runaway,
a child left behind, a woman
who's vanished, a soul set adrift
i would be calling for you
i would be longing for you
and the safety of a home in your arms.

today's poem challenge from poetic asides..

the prompt-
Today, I want you to write an outsider poem. You can be the outsider; someone else can be the outsider; or it can even be an animal or inanimate object that's the outsider. As usual, get creative with the prompt and don't be afraid to stretch the limits.

out in the cold

peeking through
the kitchen window
i got a glimpse of you
i watched how the sunlight streamed
bright through the curtains,
across tile floors,
over the counters,
i longed to be flowers
adorning the windowsill
i longed for your movements
your voice, your love
i listened to the morning speak
and i felt unlike
a human being
i was a tree unable to move

april poem a day challenge

this prompt (below) comes from the poetic asides blog: http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides
they have a challenge to poets to write a poem a day in honor of April being National Poetry Month.

the prompt-For today's prompt, I want you to write an origin poem. It can be the origin of a word, person, plant, idea, etc. Have fun with it.

my response-

origin of night

the plants die down
to the winds
succumbing, a twilight
star emerges first and then
another.
a wandering cloud darkens.

the skies fall into a shaded
hood, the birds disappear-
absent and silent

the eerie rustling
of trees yearning for sun
the gentle trembling
of light coming undone
the quiet hum
of us asleep and in dreaming

night consuming us
sneaking in without a warning

sneaks away just as elusive
daring the dawn

still life

in the morning light
how the ocean behaves
is irrelevant
how the sand measures down
is what i dreamt
the shadows are the depths
across my floor
over the lamp
passed my table
the morning light goes

and sees and murmurs to me
i turn from it
go on about the day
the stillness and quiet lost to me
the mist of dreams and memory
the will of those gone passed
i can't see

the mysteries of a dawning,
come free

Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 040

(taken from the blog http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/)

"For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "Why I Don't (blank)" and fill in the blank. Then, make that your title. From there, write a poem. Some possibilities include "Why I don't look both ways," "Why I don't tie my shoestrings," and "Why I don't watch the evening news." So many possibilities, so little time."

here is my poem in response to this prompt:

why i don't wear pink

i think i'm more like wednesday adams
not perky, not upbeat, not enthused,
but not dull or demure either
in the sense that i don't want to fade
into the background- sea of black or blend
in with everyone else, my personality
isn't that of brighter hues, it's subtle.

if i speak i do not shout you need to lean in
closely to hear, i do not need an audience
to adore me, i don't need to proclaim how
girly i can be. i can't defend superficiality

i love to live in the cover of night
i do not reflect the light if i can help it
i reflect inner light and see beyond a rose colored
world

wednesday poetry prompt # 39

from the poetic asides blog-

http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/

the prompt is-write a poem that deals with the idea of correspondence. here is mine:

dear mom

heart of my hearts
the rest- reality, lies.
the warmth of your eyes
the length of all time
an endless embrace

spirit, a thing that has always
been. a new sound of hoping
love outlasts the wait

how will i know who i am
without seeing myself in you?
how does this life go on without
protection?
i live because of you
i move because of you and learn
all things anew

you grew me into a flower
of eternities

are we happiest in our dreams?

are we happiest in our dreams?
is it only there that we are truly alive
and this real life is nothing but a fantasy?
a blip on the radar
of a flexible universe?
how do we live when asleep
how do we die when awake
how do we take what is rightfully ours
without disturbing some grand design
maybe perfection is mine
in this bleak and tender wilderness
in this massive construct
when life starts out fun but turns into work
and struggle and loss

but then there could be more
if dawn could somehow dare us
to awaken before our dreams have faded
to blend them into the everyness of days
and they'd stay instead of go away

if hearts could go unburdened there'd be
music and joy spilling over into streets
there'd be tears and abundance and release-

fantasies alive for the taking
and only those with closed eyes could see

we are happiest in our dreams

-------------------------------------------------------

McAllister: "Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams and I'll show you a happy man."
John Keating: "But only in their dreams can men be truly free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be."
McAllister: Tennyson?
John Keating: No, Keating.

-Dead Poet's Society

nature's cruel joke

being in your eyes
like a storefront window
walking swiftly
drifting past a memory
a recognition, in the reflection
of me to you

can see we
and i stop
try to pull things together
and realign
misinterpret the signs
the whispers, the sighs
the silences that flash by

my interest wanes
how to sort a dream
image,
in the world of logic
in this reality
how are we to hold fast to them?
before fading
before wandering
through days and storms and night.

poem i just wrote

endanger nature

if i were
to flower
under a solid cement
sidewalk,
a heavy stone floorbed

if i could remember,
have power to turn
the sun, to prosper-

light up the dew upon
petals
stretch out my leaves
what would be?
forthcoming
would i be?
fragrant and blossoming

would i be the one
to hold a secret?
draw down the heavens
and part the seas

would i endanger
nature's
delicate balance?

it's new year's eve eve

i'm pretty happy right now because a test photo shoot i was supposed to have yesterday has been rescheduled for this Friday. i think it's something i am really needing right now. to feel pretty again and see myself in a different light. it's a nice break from the routine of day to day life. and the last time i did a shoot with this particular photographer, (who found me by approaching me at one of my boyfriend's art shows) the results were pretty good, even though i was heavier then. i think my being thinner now may help me to feel more confident and result in even better shots. not sure where all this may lead, if anywhere, but then again you never know. it's a good thing i'm off work this week, so i had some time today to go through magazines and study the model's poses to get ideas, also i need to look through my clothes to decide on the looks i want to have in the shoot. the pic at the top of my blog was a result of the last test shoot we did together.

tomorrow is my family's new year's eve party, and i hear that an old friend of mine is supposed to attend since our dads work together. I can't imagine how much we both must have changed since last seeing each other. she will be turning 30 in march. we were very close for a large part of our young adulthood. we grew apart when i moved out of my parent's home and also out of the town where she was living. though i heard she has finally also moved out of her parent's home as well , and is apparently working and living with someone, a guy i don't know. i suppose i'll meet him tomorrow night. it's going to be so great to see her again and catch up on everything we have missed in eachother's lives. i have really missed her a lot since she is one of the funniest people i know. i met her while working at a photo developing place when i was 19 and in college.

this has been a very nice vacation so far. tomorrow is my massage and i hope there isn't too much snow in the forecast so i don't have to trudge through it to get to the salon. i posted some of my poetry today on redbubble.com and have already received some really great comments it, so that feels great!