You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘religion’ tag.

September 9, 2016


When young, we are naturally
Faithful. Trusting in ancient
Texts and the promises
Of grown-ups, who

Pass on the myths and stories
They learned as well. But
How, sometimes, the death
Of your ginger cat, shoved

Back under the car with the anguished
And shocked look of coursing
Antifreeze in his viens
Makes doubt a nighttime

Companion - next to imagining
Of the fairy godmother,

Floating outside your window, wings
Fluttering as she notes
You are not sleeping, but
Reading in the dark

Of your Sears Catalogue
Canopy bed and wondering
Why Jesus wanted
Your kitten so soon,

And so cruelly.


This is Poem #163 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. 

April 16, 2016

 

They put them on the spots

That work best – sucking

Your blood to the surface.

 

Polka dots on alabaster

Skin. A veneer

Of bruises and blood. Every

 

Mircroaggression a parasite

To siphon out another piece

Of your soul and the human

Spirit shrinks, smaller,

 

And smaller, and smaller.

 

This is Poem #60 of the Poem (Almost) Everyday Project.

1534515811689

 

Keep silent. Do not

Draw attention.

We are on this earth

These short years –

 

Cycles of birth,

Peek, decay.

The flowers will

Wilt around you

And so will all

You have loved.

 

Double-doors replaced

With ugly fuel efficient

Models. The Tilton 500

Torn up and into

A chain hotel. Even

The drive-in will go –

Unable to afford the digital

Revolution. So we

 

Pay our tickets, and spin

On this ride, year

after year,

after year.

We pedal, and merry-go-round.

 

Eventually, jumping

Or pushed. The dirge

Plays on. Dance slowly.

But, dance.

 

This is Poem #50 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.

Real-Dino

The dinosaur bones

Are fake, they say. Nothing

Lived before the timer

Started at 6,000 years

 

Ago. If a Pterodactyl 

Shows up in 1860

Wearing a navy or grey cap,

 

What madness sparks?

The world is divided –

The Civil War – oxymoron

To end all oxymorons –

Has never ended, really.

 

Nothing was solved

by the the deaths of thousands

On fields where

Reenactments are played.

How close are we to a

Half-revolt again?

 

North rebels against

South. Makes a flag

Of tolerance and acceptance,

To convey disdain

At the Confederacy.

 

What colors convey peaceful

War to bring unity? What

Ancient beast needs

to fly above – giant

Wings flapping

And blocking

Out the sun?

 

This is Poem #46 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.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

Crypto Map 1

The back page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

What fuels our need

To know, to seek

Out the answers

Through myth,

 

Or through science?

Humans have always wanted

To know from where

They’ve come. Theories

 

Abound. 6,000 years

Placed by a God or

Bangs that were

Big. Millions of years

Of fossils not

Enough evidence to convince

(or convict) some

That an ancient text

Might be inaccurate.

 

We live in a time

When (morons) choose

Not to believe in

Science. Life,

Method, reason,

 

Data, even, are all biased

And to be disputed.

 

Whose power of denial

Is so strong that

They’ll watch the

Earth die

Outside their backdoors

While marking the wrong

Vote with black pen.

 

This is Poem #43 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.

 

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map below, and write from there.

 

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

14077620_f1024

 

In the night

He slinks behind the boulders

We’d climbed all day,

 

But his glowing eyes

Give him away.

Oh, and the giant almond

Head where they live.

 

Unnatural, so naturally

embedded into the forest;

In the dark, why

Shouldn’t we be afraid?

 

Even with photographic

Evidence, no-one will believe

In the unbelievable.

 

I want to invite him

To play ultimate frisbee,

Drink wine in the cabin

Of his UFO. Demon,

 

Your likeness hidden

Behind glass, printed

On teeshirts and postcards, yet,

 

Your existence a disputed

Mystery. Your witnesses

Believe in all that is possible.

 

This is Poem #36 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.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

Here’s a little more insight into the mystery of The Dover Demon.

Crypto Map

The front page of The International Cryptozoology Museum’s floor map.

If only it were so easy.

Walk up to the ex-boy scout

Grown middle-aged

 

Behind the counter –

Or the sage librarian

At the typewriter –

 

For instruction on directions,

Career path, marriage prospects.

Someone to stop you

 

Swiping that credit card

At the check out

Every time you think of it.

 

“Don’t wrack up debt.”

 

And then, at 40, you’ve

Got a hefty savings. Yes,

Make peace with your

Finances and your soul.

 

Go to church, but don’t

Ever follow anyone’s rules

To the book and don’t

Judge others. “That’s what

We owe history: risk.”

 

This is Poem #35 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.

This particular poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine. Some days I’d just point to a location on the museum map above, and write from there.

When you’re in between

And change is mud season,

Mucky, murky, and you

Are stuck at the side of the road,

 

Avoiding the ruts

Got you nowhere.

There is fear in the middle.

 

No one loves uncertainty,

And the risk to move forward

Seems grim. It requires

 

A shedding of the past –

The tire iron at the ready.

 

We have nothing to believe

In anymore. Science her very self

Is under the microscope,

 

And condemned a witch.

Burn her at the stake.

Her feet sway under a long, grey,

Flax dress. Tiny black

slippers pointed like a ballerina’s.

 

We should have listened

To her long ago. But denial

Is so easy to believe

When the world is dying.

 

This is Poem #34 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.

Crypto Map

This poem is part of a series inspired by my visit to The International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland, Maine.

Goodreads

Lady Diction’s Calendar

April 2020
M T W T F S S
 12345
6789101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
27282930