Between-the-Lines Poem: Choose your favorite poem from the readings. Type out the poem, leaving triple-space between lines. Then, between the lines, fill in a new line of your own which is sparked by the original line. Eliminate all original poem lines at the end. The poem that remains is your own. Tinker with it and make it cohere.
9 responses to “Found Poem (Tues)”
There were so many times I waited
Watching the phone
From the office desk
Waiting for someone to call
To talk and then hang up
And I found
That everyone feels alone
And they would tell you their fears
With tears in their eyes
In less time than it would take them
To pull the trigger
Because it is easier
To tell a stranger
Off the phone and out of the office
People hide their loneliness and fears
You can harm their struggles
In how they say they are alright
Tell from their eyes they’re tired
Of living. today
Tomorrow, the next day.
Of course, there is enjoyment
In friends and parties, to make
Life sweet as candy or tart
As a tangerine or as sticky as honey
Straight from the comb. As the lights turn off
And the office turns quiet, the phones
Begin to ring. They ring
All night, begging for people to listen
Each person suffering
Under the ring phones, away from the phones
(just like you), into the darkness
Two snakes shed their skin
right on the front of my small porch.
one seemed to be larger than the other.
Wanting to be postmodern, I acted as if I did not notice
the scaly skins, discarded on my doorstep
or understand what was swirling inside of me.
I told my son every hour to stop his back-talking,
and instead peeled a banana while cursing God
his arrogance and all.
I don’t understand how he can still expect our devotion
and our loyalties after he created the thing we call love.
and mosquitoes, those horrid creatures.
I took my son outside to the front porch to show him
those discarded dead skins so he could
understand the feeling of when something or someone
comes to your house
and tells you something that you know.
Burning the bottoms
making an unrecognizable stand
Unable to reach the seed stuck in between your teeth? Or how
the bleach stain won’t seem to fade?
Care, it used to be you could go weeks without putting on lotion
And I’d still rub our feet’s together on the coldest nights
Used to be all for you
Seat buckled,Table set,
but you never really knew what that meant
But liked when there was never hesitation
Feet rougher than bark and you’re a piece of shit.
Fingers-crossed tighter than your t-shirt
collar around your fabricating neck. Cheering
for the other team. Bandwagon. Through
and through. Care, formed the air
that breathed life into the fire dormant
In the pits of which is a Hell
Inside of which my eyes reflect
Inside of which … you would not get. Your face
sculpted to perfection but just as cold as stone. Word’s
Like a poet but haunting nevermore
Pearly whites on the outer porcelain smiles
But from the inside rotting toothpicks cemented with glue
From in here it looks like David’s last no
And gums rotted in lies.
And besides,
You’re ashy. We’re through.
The days had been filled with fog, but at night the sky glimmered
Like the stars she had aged beautifully, always moving with quiet confidence; grace
She was a painter: He watched
Her nimble fingers working meticulously, her head tilting when she caught him staring
Infatuation, obsession, fixation, love.
One night she looked at him with inquisitive unwavering eyes
“I believe you want me, and I want you too, however I must say I had breast cancer.”
He sat there fidgeting with his hands
“My breasts have been removed”
The facade broke and the glow that had followed her all these weeks was instantly snuffed out.
He did not meet those unwavering eyes as he said “you are mistaken I was simply admiring your work.”
That night under the stars he returned to his room
and in the morning under a layer of dew sat a tin.
Curls of dried paint filled it to the brim
He picked it up, surprised by the weight, and as the wind scattered them across the porch- she must have finally set a trap – was a mouse, fur damp with blood.
I could remain in my burrow, away from the sirens and shouts. The streets flood as her tears pour out. Cracks on the concrete were to be filled decades ago. Everything is grey and I search through my pockets for enough cash. Crowds swarm and part and I feel a twinge that something bad is imminent, maybe death and disease and babies who can’t scream. When I was a baby I had a recurring dream of the world before concrete. She kissed me and held me to her bosom and I felt the beat beat beat. I ran up endless hills and back down and everything curved, when it was dirt and trees and gemstones, when it was turquoise and emerald skies. I was born and took my first breath and screamed; now I breathe in smog and artificial trees. When I was a kid I wanted to be a geologist to reside in my recurring dream. Back when I felt my heart beat beat beat. I was a fool— the only stone was grey concrete.
I go to sleep and sigh. I lay my head
on the pillow and the sound of the owl outside makes me sigh,
exhale. The dreams I have about ones I love and hate
and the moment I wake up and my throat hurts and it’s
cold and the squelch of the mud under my boots
and the frown of the person passing me and the
smile of the one I am meeting
it makes me close my eyes and sigh
I’ve thought about how I am changing and how the
world around me feels similar but not the
same. I wonder if it’s because of you that I am changing
if romance makes you change in more ways than the one
I look at you and exhale, it’s a sigh of relief
Snow falls from the sky
just as the vibrant sunset leaves did,
and also something soft, warm, and enough, with
roses, dried with age, not love,
laying on elegant fibers, and pristine pillows.
I know that it’s December again because
you lie and lie down and scatter petals, and
distance yourself from the past as whispers
and taunts and mellow cries,
plead and beg for remembrance,
with fallen leaves and snow.
They remember and forget, push, and cry, and move on but never do.
As a squirrel bounds by
I wonder what its next meal will be
or if it will become one
for nothing sleeps
and nowhere is safe
when the quiet drowns it out
and he must become the tree
and remain
as the end is everywhere else
anywhere is better but
he’d much like to frolick
I could do it. I could fly into the clouds!
I drive my mother’s car, it’s black and a hybrid.
I have hands and feet but no wings.
Maybe at 40, I will ascend into the clouds
I’ve seen it done by the animals
Birds, dragons even, I know they don’t exist.
I dove for a photo of a girl I once knew
Overboard, I sank, well of course
Kites! If faithful, it won’t fly away
Where will I be at 25, I hope not keeping secrets
If I were washed up on the beach would anyone see me?
My journals are stacked up on my shelf, open
It’s light. I love the sun and it loves me
It would be fun! I could befriend the sun!