Firemaking

I stand above the dying embers of a dying flame,
I neglected to add wood and it hungers,
Because of that it can no longer give light,
neither does it warm brightly
So I make a nest using the bark of a Juniper tree,
I scoop up a coal and hold it in my hands
blowing gently
so gently
soon the bundle smokes and breaths in my hand
bits of glowing bark burn my forearms as I blow harder
smoke stings into my throat
as eyes water
Then through the haze grows a flame
that dims
and dies.

Inspiration

I used to worry about getting things done
because I would have a burst of inspiration
and then give up.

Then I realized that the key to success was to get as much done
during the inspiration
so that by the time I gave up,
I would have accomplished something.

The End

Some say
that the universe began with a silent BOOM!
And that it grew and grew
as stars gave birth
and planets hosted weeping masses
who lived and died a billion times
unaware that all was growing smaller
and smaller
the whole unable to support eternal expansion
and so it draws itself in
like a rotting apple
slowly
until a silent crunch

Will that be how it ends?

Non-rhyming Urban Poetry Night I

Here are the poems from the first ever Non-rhyming Urban Poetry Night. A random collection of people brought together to write poems in under ten minutes followed by recitation and lots of snapping. Hopefully this post will encourage others to do the same. Let me know how it goes.

Roots

Sliding through the surface
like snakes upon the water
gentle movements seen by none
but felt so immeasurably in time

Life brought by things so small
a seedling bursts the surface
green shining boldly in the sun
a slap in the face of death

“Ha” it says “I'm back again.”
Fire did not prevent it
just cursed it to have formed.
Each year it comes each year it goes
and roots continue on.

-A. Cornwall

Smiles

There's here, there, and everywhere
And, there's also frowns, scowls,
A collection of impassiveness
and sheer cluelessness, too,
Hmm...this attempt at random
cadence and unrhyming ideas
Is, well, I don't know...
I lack the creativeness
to even decide what it is.
And so I end

-A. Bates

Don't be Afraid of Berkley

Ya that Berkley they says he's a nice guy
But you know what I think check out that eye
Looking at that have you ever asked why
Because you know he ain't very shy

So I'll tell you what happened to this dude
one evening doing his thing watching YouTube
He saw a wicked stunt that he thought he could do
It involved him walking in the ghetto shouting “Yo Fools”

So there he was shouting down an empty street
Then all of a sudden he heard a bunch of feet
The kind of big, mean looking guys you don't meet
He tried to slip away, but he ain't that sleek

So then they were punching on his face
And he was crying for mercy, praying for grace
Then he remembered he had a can of mace
The kind that in your mouth leaves a bad taste

So that is the story and that is the rhyme
Of how Berkley Walker got a black eye
No this is just a joke I made it on the fly
I'm just a crazy white boy, go class of 1999.

-L. Dahl

One more time

Flattened against the ground
splattered like a squirrel pancake on the hot pavement
baking
I reform
Bone by bone
sinew by sinew
hair by hair
until I stand again
a little taller
a little bolder
against the next blow of 18 wheels
what we forget about the phoenix
is that he first baked alive in flame

-B. Walker

Blank Page

I don't want to share
this is stupid

What's inside of me is too big for a page
and too mighty for words

So you read your hearts
spill your soul on broken ears
I'll keep my secret thank you very much

-B. Walker

Sports

footballs, basketballs, baseballs and such
that is the life driven
by the optometrist
seeing the ball go into the hands
as well as the net, gloves, and yellow goal post
the ball is in the air and coming towards him.
He gets his hand on it
it then bounces off them
and go into the air
as it continues into the misty air,
it falls out of sight out of view
it falls out of the Television set,

-D. Mackay

Stuck

I passed a car stuck in the snow today
I stopped to help.
It couldn't go forward
it couldn't go back.
The people were trapped.
Suspended by a column of frozen winter
mixed with gravel
It could have stayed there
until the pavement cracked with age
and once again camas sprouted.
And the hills rang no longer with plow and truck
the silence of thundering herds
the quite of a peaceful tree dying
The only rust in the red ochre smeared against a canyon wall.
I sigh
and push
and wish for simpler times.
Who ever got stuck in the snow walking?

Reruns

I'm watching that show again
It started out good,
but then things changed
No longer the magic that was there there before
And I'm stuck watching
what should inspire
I sink into the couch
I crave something salty
I have to go to the bathroom
If this was the first time I know what I would do
I would just change the channel
but its the same on everyone
M*A*S*H, X-files, Brisco County Junior,
You can get them all on DVD now
in a boxed set
So I pause and decide the easiest thing to do
will be just to fall asleep
and forget the mourning.

Elmer Fudd

I like to write without regard
for forming a complete paragraph
or sentence
or thought
or wor...

I can ask God a question
that I never expect to be answered
or ride a metaphor
just because it looks fun.
But most of all I can feel thoughts the way they are,
stuttered out like Elmer Fudd
So incoherent
yet so true.

Dyno Insomnia

Generic

I am awake
I feel as though I always have been and always will be
Hunger nips at my insides
not too bad,
it couldn't be keeping me thus.

But I get up anyways
and put Fruity-Dyno Bites into a bowl
They are not fruity
neither dynamic nor dynosaurous

But when I add milk and a spoon-
they are sweet
and fill my stomach with sawdust.

And I get sleepy.
I guess I was just hungry after all.

An what's with the Kangaroo?!

A new leaf

A poem a day for a year? Preposterous perhaps, but no longer will I be bothered by punctuation

As I grow older I grow more irresponsible,
At twenty-four I feel like thirteen,
I want to hit things,
I want to get hit.

So I join a rugby team
I get the ball,
and before I know why I run
forward-
stinging stars and swelling tissue surround me

Blood pounding everywhere and nowhere at once
I hold the ball until I hit the ground,
then I must let go or I am part of the ball
a ball that can be stomped, kicked and crushed

and based on how the speed of contact makes me feel,
so alive in pain-
I wonder if I will let go at all.
everyone notices a black eye.

I want to hit things,
but sometimes
I want to get hit more.