he stands in his crib
smiling and waving at me
where have ten months gone?
by James Brush
Category: Poems
Poems written by me.
live oak branches
nighttime beetles hover
among shadowed leaves
Most Beautiful Thing
highway, the highway, oh beautiful thing
flowing under a circling sky
our son asleep, eastbound
wildflower spring, old prairie towns
flowing under a circling sky
blackland prairie, gnarled oaks
wildflower spring, old prairie towns
cedar along barbed wire fence rows
blackland prairie, gnarled oaks
long rolling hills, windblown grass
cedar along barbed wire fence rows
speeding trucks, dusty roads
long rolling hills, windblown grass
our son asleep, eastbound
speeding trucks, dusty roads
highway, the highway, oh beautiful road
—
This is inspired by Fiona Robyn’s new novel The Most Beautiful Thing. Since I’m doing napowrimo, I figured I’d use it as a prompt for today since this is the day Fiona is blogsplashing the book by offering the Kindle version for free. I haven’t read it yet, but I’ve read her novel Thaw, which I enjoyed very much.
Cauliflower’s been working out, ripped clothes and muscled arms urge everyone to dance. The blueberry girls and grape chicks with their leafy hair giggle and smile nearby. In walks Whole Grain Hipster, sporting a suit of bread and cereal like a seventies cartoon pimp, swaggering down the lunch line, healthy, cat, healthy, he nods over at the clique cliché of all the artsy individualistic girls: the lonely beet, eyes closed playing Dylan on her sad guitar, the bubbly pixie art grape, splashing paint so dreamy. Off in the corner by the water fountain, a cluster of grapes with black-eyed peas for eyes, fruit from the vineyard by the reactor, laugh through their carefully carved mouths while a lone mushroom makes his getaway on a hot rutabaga balloon made from some unfortunate member of misunderstood beet girl’s family, turned upside down, greens shredded and stalks used for lines. It’s a tough world for veggies and the fungus always wins but it’s healthy, man, so healthy.
—
I administered our state social studies test to a group of sophomores and juniors in the cafeteria today and so I had a lot of time to study the posters in there. File this one under ekphrasis.
silent nestbox
one chickadee didn’t fledge
I bury him in his nest
the road to Houston
firewheels and sunflowers sway
along the shoulder
the chickadee
rattles like a snake
in her nest
when I look inside
to check the nestlings
Wilderness is a circus ride; I jump
silver turnstiles and dodge my fare tonight.
Somewhere on the withered plains, coyotes
howl and cry as they leave their lairs tonight.
Lonely weather satellites trek all through
the salted skies like robot prayers tonight.
You claim constellations for forgotten
nations on dusty roads we share tonight.
Your voice, mellifluous, you whisper and
name the hurricane wind-stirred air tonight.
Come thunder and southern lightning storms you
rejoice, “Let rainfall be our heir tonight.”
—
I’ve had my students experimenting with ghazal writing. It’s been interesting, and some of them have really gotten into it. A few had trouble grasping the radif (that repeating word at the end of each couplet) and wrote some decent poems sans radif. Trying to help them figure out how to get a radif in there, I turned to Johnny Cash and suggested they try his example from “I’ve Been Everywhere”:
I’ve been everywhere, man.
I’ve crossed the deserts bare, man.
I’ve breathed the mountain air, man.
Of travel I’ve had my share, man.
I’ve been everywhere, man.
Not a ghazal really, but a ghazalish chorus at least. And so I got a few ghazals that use homie and dawg as the radif. Several of them worked quite well and would even make decent raps, which is why I think the kids who are serious about rapping really latched onto this.
Oh, and mellifluous was the word of the day. Bonus points are added to any assignment in which students use their SAT words of the day.
butterflies weave
windblown
Indian blanket
wildflower fields
surround the jail
a chickadee clings
to the birdhouse entrance hole
nestling chorus