Pet Poems Past

 

Two from NaPoWriMo 2015 while I try to come up with another for today’s prompt . . .

PardLeo

Leopard Spotted: Night Vision

 

Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?
then may ye also do good, that are accustomed to do evil.
Jeremiah 13:23

We’re tired of your feline past
predatory darkness cannot last
your claw and tooth, your fangs, your youth—
they get old fast.

Your sullen, incoherent style
has grown intolerably vile.
After the kill, your prey is still
in pure denial.

Leopard-phantasms feed the flames;
the thing that spawned you whines and blames
although we could call Motherhood
by harsher names.

Jungle law enforcement should
stop crowning you with victimhood
erase your spots, connect the dots—
we wish you would.

Then lambs with lions shall rejoice
while lines with iambs raise their voice;
spotted pards play wiser cards.
(A better choice.)

 

Hymn to Intellectual Curiosity


The cat once killed again takes up her plume
to write in the air with a sinuous tail;
a valiant attempt at true life to resume.
Penultimate of nine? Or eighth to fail…

The literate lioness’s spectral quill
fresh-dipped in fountains of blood-red ink
(along with sharpened claws) warns: time to kill—
but God would give us all more time to think.

Although certain races and social classes
display not a trace of Curiosity,
Humanity (being higher than their asses)
should counter such donkey-like paucity.

Boredom is beastly—it burdens the mind
one should be able to sustain some good talk…
If you finally perceive they are not of your kind
then pity them. Smile—and let the dullards walk.

A good conversation (by block-heads reviled)
costs only the interest—it’s free of price!
This birthright of every man, woman and child
imparts life to variety, adding spice.

A bite on the tongue, or a shake in the pan
enlivens the food, while enhancing the taste.
Be it preaching or sophistry, blessed is the man
consuming such dishes, no wordage to waste.

Yet most are content to survive on stale bread,
or drive through for fries and a Happy Meal.
Then, quickly digested, the pleasure dead,
it’s on to the stop sign. Their tires squeal.

Attempting to talk with such silly people
whose frame of reference is mainly: What?
Can drive one to brewery, cloister, or steeple
in search of that city whose gates never shut.

When word, wit and wisdom flow out of the mouth
enjoyment sings welcome as springtime arrives.
But ignorance pushes the birds further south
re-freezing the surface of puddled lives.

If you need some assistance, go purchase a cup
or run down to the liquor-store. Brew up some tea.
Be sure that your affective filter’s not up,
grammar monitor running functionally.

Art, sports, philosophy, music or sex—
please make it a good one. The topic is moot.
Don’t bore me with shopping. Don’t mention your Ex.
But swim to the deep end or bend for my boot.

The cat is now road-kill, her mission has failed.
One pussy-life left. Let your next chat count.
Don’t claim that you didn’t know what it entailed,
were unsure of the topic, idea, or amount.

Poetic Approaches


This is my fifth year posting a poem per day during April
for National Poetry Writing Month.

I must qualify my participation; I am bringing forth poems already written but never posted publicly.

Once I believed that creative souls produce their most authentic work in a frenzy of inspiration. This is the modern myth of the Artist as oracle or prophet; a being so special she/he just has to get it out there in one inspired spasm. To alter or to edit the art is to make it less authentic; it is spasmodically delivered in finished form (rather like vomiting or excretion). But as I matured poetically and reconsidered things I moved away from this model. I realized that stream-of-consciousness dribbles, spurts, rants and visionary diatribes make for boring art. A different approach to poetry stresses craftsmanship, structure, and goes against the model of Artist as mystically-inspired Other.  It is also message-oriented. I represent this second tendency.

I am not writing one-a-day for April in response to prompts. These are drafts I have been saving for National Poetry Month. I have been reworking, polishing, and finishing these poems for my readers. They have been faithfully and obsessively crafted.

 And remember:
When you own the POETRY

the POETRY owns YOU !

 

logo-napowrimo

Ides of March

Lines  that  Suck  the  Bitch’s  Tit

DIIS MANIBUS
The spells, the rites, the pomp, the victims fled,
The fanes all desert, and the lares dead.
Timothy Dwight

O vicious household gods of Rome
you Manes, Lares, Muses, Fates
who graced each crass patrician home,
whose reign this poem celebrates,

Allow me now, in retrospect
to excavate, then analyze.
Depravity with cause, connect;
depriving you of alibis.

Relax your stiff noetic poise
as my plebeian pen records
through lyrical poetic noise
the crown imperial crime awards.

My lines, like foundlings, long to suck
a mother’s milk in measured draft
and dredge some gold from Tiber’s muck;
Dear Lord: illuminate my craft.

ROMULUS, let that wolf-tit go
and REMUS too—unlatch that breast . . .
milk of Etruscan madness, flow,
with empire’s crimes forthwith confessed.

We will not blame your leaden wares
nor ergot mold in rancid bread
for genocidal state affairs,
brutality, and martyred dead.

The Circus, leering, restless, loud,
cheers gladiatorial excess.
The haunted forum’s phantom-crowd
awaits the tyrant’s next address.

He speaks. The wind blows through the arches
stirring up the roadside litter.
Trumpets blare. The legion marches.
Empire’s aftertaste is bitter.

You were Antichrist. That is all.
We cannot dignify your past
or glorify from whence you fall
or praise the mold from which you’re cast.

Christ traveled far from Galilee;
came, saw, conquered—and on it goes.
Our king shall reign eternally;
that she-wolf’s milk no longer flows.

 

National Poetry Writing Month

2015

1. Stuff Poetry Hates
2. Portrait of a Pre-Madonna
3. Tulips for the Fire
4. Paint Saul as St. Paul
5. Scaffold the Sky
6. When Cows Come Home
7. Social Work-Out
8. Spending Down Ideals
9. Reply to a Bumpersticker
10. Beatnik Disembarks from Bardo Plane
11. Vajra Cast From Golden Heights & Leopard Spotted
12. Welsh Revival
13. Godless Bluegrass
14. Tarot Arcana VII
15. Santería
16. The Selection of Sex and Descent in Relation to Man
17. Autonomy in Catatonia
18. Benighted Nations
19. Lines that Suck the Bitch’s Tit
20. Unfortunate Juxtapositions
21. Poultry in Motion
22. To Birds who Swim in Fishy Notions
23. View from the Mortal Portal
24. Eye of Delusion
25. Hello Porneia & Hymn to Intellectual Curiosity
26. Vaginalia
27. Behold—We Come
28. Ungu Malungu, the King of Ace
29. Freethinkers Unchained
30. Data at the Helm

NaPoWriMo 2015