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TGAP 3 Week 29 submitted October 17, 2011 Artwork by Michael S. Piper

Rise Up by Mike Piper
Childhood you’ve stomped
Through my life; twice
I’ve lost you and promises
 
Say you’ll leave again. Waltzing
Through, stirring up the ballroom,
And leaving faster than Cinderella,
 
On the mother who’s just
Getting started. One day, you’re
Crying, needing every thing,
 
Clinging to sweaters
When I try to leave.
Lasso that moment
 
And the moon. I’ll read
Love You Forever
One more time
 
Before your shoe
Tumbles down
Behind you as you run.






This is my submission Week 29 of the TwinGeekz Artz Project 3 The art work is by fellow Geek Michael S. Piper. Be sure to check out his new art workz here. 

TwinGeekz is a loose affiliation of loose affiliates in New Hampshire who began the TwinGeekz Artz Project challenge in May of 2005; the task was for each of the original seven participants to produce and submit a piece of art every week for one year.  Every artist succeeded in completing their 52 pieces of art, and thus the TGAP theory was proven: “all creativity needs is a deadline”. 
We grew each of the three years that the project continued. It’s time to bring it back.  Join us?

TGAP3 Week 13 submitted June 27, 2011 with artwork by Kelly Bennett

Rock & Roll Cruise Night by Kelly Bennett
Every time the circling 

Vulture sirens pass our house,

I take inventory of where

Mine are. Need to make sure

The call emergency’s expanding

Sound spins off  to

Is not too close to bliss;

 

That the whispering touch of E.M.T.s

Will settle someone else’s

Soul to coma, jettison words

Through an impartial mouthpiece

Toward another mother’s ears.

 

While, through my phone,

Cam jokes, “Mom, I’m just calling

With the 4-1-1. I’m at the club.

Just letting you know in case

Something happens. Okay, Mom?” But

 

When I imagine him leaving

Club Three-One-Three with another

Boy in a homophobic

Part of town, I

See him falling from Charlie’s

Bridge or tied to Matthew’s

Fence.  When

 

Zoë calls from the shady

Park, she wants

To play there untended into the evening.

But even as I imagine her friends

Close by, the candy doling strangers,

Lure her from the swinging glee.

 

I swell like a siren swells; I

Can’t say yes to either.

The ambulance heads

South, away from my emotional

Lockdown and toward

Another mother’s disaster.



This is my submission for Week 13 of the Twingeekz Artz Project 3.  The accompanying art work is by fellow geek, Kelly Bennett and is from the same week.

TwinGeekz is a loose affiliation of loose affiliates in New Hampshire who began the TwinGeekz Artz Project challenge in May of 2005; the task was for each of the original seven participants to produce and submit a piece of art every week for one year.  Every artist succeeded in completing their 52 pieces of art, and thus the TGAP theory was proven: “all creativity needs is a deadline”. 

We grew each of the three years that the project continued. It’s time to bring it back. 

Let’s do it again! #tgap2020 join us!

October 17, 2016

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.
Sasquatch roams quietly
Through the dark and dank
Woods; his home deeply shadowed.

Some claim to witness his long
Stride around boulders
And the speckled forest

Sun. Why do we always assume
That the one we see is male?
When a mother is the one

Brave enough to risk being
Seen as her tall, furry legs
Take her to her children's meal.
This is Poem #183 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. 

October 4, 2016

Where is the line, where Mother
Steps back and lets the serious
Mistakes alone? Are we supposed to
Intervene when the mess is catastrophe?

You watch, now from the audience,
Kicked off the stage, long past
Your role as director, as blind
Love leads your son toward torment

And places where he is squashed
Into decisions he never wanted to make.

This is Poem #175 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state. 

August 24, 2016

Time Lapses
A senior, you still wanted me
To snap that first-day-
of-school photograph as you

Ran out the door, granola
Bar in hand (no time for
pancake breakfasts) and last

Year's backpack an embarrassment.
I want to create a then
And now photo of you

Between preschool and almost
Done school as the quiet 
Of an empty house

Reminds me how quickly
It has all gone by. 

This is Poem #152 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

June 28, 2016

It could be so simple,

Really,

To make sure there is enough

To go around – so no mother

Watches her child starve.

The world’s created – in man’s

image. Violence, cash,

“Man-up” have taken hold.

While the elements that matter 

Are swept away as woman’s

Trivial dust. 

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This is Poem #106 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I challenged myself to spend a year in which I’d wake most mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee. By the end of the year,  I had written 241 poems.  Here, I have published second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

May 8, 2016

She always geared

Herself up for disappointment.

Every May she knew

They would not pull through. 

 

Kay Jewelers commercials,

And the teleflorists tell 

Us what we should

Want today. And there is 

 

Always the despondency

Of breakfast in bed, whether

You get it or not. 

What mothers really want – 

 

beyond their babies 

tucked safely

and healthy

in their tiny beds –

 

Is someone to take

Just a corner

Of the heavy flatbed

Of Womanhood.  It is

The only way to get

Chicken soup and 

Neatly folded laundry again. 

 

 

This is Poem #75 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

April 7, 2016

 

No matter what

I’ll end up short.

Not enough love

Emitted I’m told

 

A mom can never

Find the balance.

I’m too much

Or too little

Everyday.

 

This is Poem #55 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

 

April 3, 2016

 

We wait and do not wait

For our children to live

Their own lives. Avoid

 

Feeling abandoned. He

Lived so close, but now

Has another mother

To replace me and my

Guilt. And she says

 

“I cannot wait

To move out. This

Is why.”  Once,

 

I was pregnant and scared.

I imagined someday,

 

This being inside of my body

Will want to travel

Far away from it. I

 

Did not believe today

Would come and now

It has;  I grieve

For what I never

Wanted and then lost.

 

This is Poem #53 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.

On January 11, 2016 the world learned that David Bowie had died at age 69 of cancer. Heartbroken, I turned to poetry, and wrote “#DavidBowieReal” and thus began a year-long project that I called something like a “Poem-a-Day (for-everyday-that-I’m-not-teaching.) This was inspired, I believe, by a Robert Bly and Donald Hall poetry reading I’d attended several years earlier after Bly had published his collection, Morning Poems. Bly discussed how he’d embarked on the year-long project of writing a poem a day each morning before he even got out of bed. Later, he edited and collected the best of these into one of his acclaimed collections of work.

My approach was a little different. I wrote on my couch with my first cup of coffee near by, and decided that on the days that I need to be out of the house by 6:45 am, I would not require the writing. Hence, the total of 241 poems rather than 365. (In the end, Bly’s deemed 82 of his worthy to make it into his book.)

I posted a few here as I was immersed in the project, but most of them have sat dormant in my writing journals for over a year and a half.

2016 was a good year to have such a project going. It was a terrible year filled with significant celebrity deaths – after Bowie, Prince, Alan Rickman, Carrie Fisher, Debbie Reynolds – and that “election” we endured . . .  As well as personal trials and tribulations, and I’ve always intended to go back and “do something” with the work.

Now, after reading Maggie Millner’s article “Instapoets Prove Powerful in Print” in the latest issue of  Poets & Writers , fretting over the fact that I’ve not written much poetry since January of 2017, and missing the virtual artist communities of TGAP and the Myspace Poetry Society,  I’ve decided to publish all (or maybe most) of the poems from this project here in their unedited glory, in order, one a day.

I hope you’ll join me for this literary adventure.

 

 

 

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