In the Beginning
Here we stand,
on the edge of a new life.
Holding hands,
as we look into forever.
A promised land,
filled with a million tomorrows.
Bold and grand,
shining with your light.
Never bland,
I promise bouquets of excitement.
Like grains of sand,
we are part of a brilliant world.
It must be planned,
this union, you and I.
A perfect band,
our harmonies unite.
Here we stand,
ready to begin our life.
Holding hands,
for the start that never ends.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Day 96 - Ah the good old days
I was reading through the whole blog looking for poems to read at a Slam I'm performing at on Monday and as I read my extreme panicking about being a day or two behind I laughed. You know the kind of laughter that almost turns into crying without you noticing? Yeah, it was that. Well... not really, I didn't cry, but I did roll my eyes a lot because now I'm... well.. I don't even know how many days behind. Anyway here's a poem inspired by Beyonce because that's what I'm listening to right now.
-The Revolution-
Break all the rules
Knock down the walls
This is a revolution.
Raise a hand
and your voice.
Look in my eyes
and hear my sighs.
This is a revolution.
See my smile
know that I love you.
Never doubt,
never cry,
forever mine,
This is a revolution.
-The Revolution-
Break all the rules
Knock down the walls
This is a revolution.
Raise a hand
and your voice.
Look in my eyes
and hear my sighs.
This is a revolution.
See my smile
know that I love you.
Never doubt,
never cry,
forever mine,
This is a revolution.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Day 95 - Happy Birthday Kayley
The Queen
Royal clad in skinnies
a blazer and a toque.
With clunky rings of silver
and kick ass vintage boots.
A fan of Dickenson,
of Emma, Char, and Anne.
A feminist fiasco,
strong and smart and savvy.
Smiles wide, laughs loud,
and tweets wise wit.
Hippy birthday to you
our Majesty, the Hipster Queen.
Royal clad in skinnies
a blazer and a toque.
With clunky rings of silver
and kick ass vintage boots.
A fan of Dickenson,
of Emma, Char, and Anne.
A feminist fiasco,
strong and smart and savvy.
Smiles wide, laughs loud,
and tweets wise wit.
Hippy birthday to you
our Majesty, the Hipster Queen.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Day 94 - WOW this is bad
The Puck
Round as hockey's puck
Makes spectators upchuck
Like those who drank too much,
but from icing, not booze as such.
So conniseurs are sick
every time they lick
the white and yummy muck
off the oreo puck.
Round as hockey's puck
Makes spectators upchuck
Like those who drank too much,
but from icing, not booze as such.
So conniseurs are sick
every time they lick
the white and yummy muck
off the oreo puck.
Day 93 - There's probably nobody out there anymore, but whatever
Slogging
My gloves are on.
M boots are tied.
My big hat pulled low.
I wade into the sludge,
gripping the handle
tightly. Prepared
for the ripple,
the first sign of trouble
in the water.
I see it.
A tremor on the chin
of the bank.
A single drop
of the pond.
I watch the face;
the quivering, trembling face
of the bog.
Thick bubbles grow and burst.
A deep schluck, and another, and more.
I see a small crest
in the slime.
It lurches toward me.
I brace myself,
and my wordnet.
Two eyes meet mine,
the beast's.
I stand my ground.
She starts to redescend
into wet safety.
I slap the surface of the swamp,
refusing to be ignored.
The eyes reappear,
their surface glossed by gleams of malice,
or, wait, a tear.
A moment of calm,
a moment to breathe
but neither of us do.
The pounce.
She lunges.
A torrent of water, and the slop, fly at me.
I pounce too,
leading with the net.
She snarls, caught,
unable to flee, as she likes,
from the fight.
The thrashing begins.
It starts angry, agressive.
Becomes terrified, erratic.
Finishes panicked, desperate.
Her pain hurts.
I freeze, then free her and fling aside the net.
We tumble together into the mud,
me holding her, her holding tears.
Through the pale brown
she is invisible.
I worry I am losing her.
For a moment she slips away.
But then we bring each other back.
My gloves are on.
M boots are tied.
My big hat pulled low.
I wade into the sludge,
gripping the handle
tightly. Prepared
for the ripple,
the first sign of trouble
in the water.
I see it.
A tremor on the chin
of the bank.
A single drop
of the pond.
I watch the face;
the quivering, trembling face
of the bog.
Thick bubbles grow and burst.
A deep schluck, and another, and more.
I see a small crest
in the slime.
It lurches toward me.
I brace myself,
and my wordnet.
Two eyes meet mine,
the beast's.
I stand my ground.
She starts to redescend
into wet safety.
I slap the surface of the swamp,
refusing to be ignored.
The eyes reappear,
their surface glossed by gleams of malice,
or, wait, a tear.
A moment of calm,
a moment to breathe
but neither of us do.
The pounce.
She lunges.
A torrent of water, and the slop, fly at me.
I pounce too,
leading with the net.
She snarls, caught,
unable to flee, as she likes,
from the fight.
The thrashing begins.
It starts angry, agressive.
Becomes terrified, erratic.
Finishes panicked, desperate.
Her pain hurts.
I freeze, then free her and fling aside the net.
We tumble together into the mud,
me holding her, her holding tears.
Through the pale brown
she is invisible.
I worry I am losing her.
For a moment she slips away.
But then we bring each other back.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Day 92 - GREASE
Grease is the Word
Forget Alma Mater: I'll sing about Summer Nights (and show nights) when I had me a blast and remember Those Magic Changes from students to stars and to The Company, My Loves. I’ll never forget being so excited that I was Greased Lightnin’ and I will never need a Fight Song because I love you all. So Look At Me, I’m So Happy and to this cast, crew, and teachers, I hope We’ll Go Together as the family we've become.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Day 91 - A(nother) New Beginning
I haven't posted in a while. On the other hand, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Call it even?
Anyway. Now I'm back, and I'm going to start with a poem I wrote for a lovely lady for her birthday.
KC
Anyway. Now I'm back, and I'm going to start with a poem I wrote for a lovely lady for her birthday.
KC
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