Poetic Days
April is National Poetry Month. My plan is to put my poems in one place, here on Substack, adding to this second lengthening post as the days go by.
I want to make it easy for you and for me to find and to read all my poems. I’m splitting April into three parts, so this page will contain the second set of 10 poems.
My poetry is nourished by motion, and I’ll share the new poems I write while on the go. I’ll also share a little about the inspiration behind each poem.
“poetry nourished by motion #2”
CONTENTS
Passenger
An Aquarian Week
Traffic
Lang <W>itch
The Window Seat
Single Use & Durable
Spreading
Flight of the Bumbling Bee
Zombie Wombat
Predictions from the Past
Day 11
A man coughs on the train this morning, and it made me think of my dad. This is the result of those thoughts.
Passenger
When my father passes in the night
I wear his wedding ring
To keep him close at hand.I can still smell his cigarette smoke;
That last bit of ash from his lungs
Too damaged to breatheAs he falls asleep one last time
With one last cough signalling us—
A train carries one final passenger home.
Day 12
I subscribed to Simon Goetz’s three-word horoscope on April 7. Here are 5 small poems using Simon’s 3-word daily Aquarian horoscopes as titles and prompts. Enjoy!
An Aquarian Week
4/8 - new age musician
dance cosmic rhythms
melodies unfold origami-cally
stars are souls
4/9 - banished but cool
serenity in exile
solitude defines joy
lonely paths found
4/10 - you eat beautifully
tasty morsels savored
delighted taste buds
feast on life
4/11 - grass is greener
yearning for fields
blooming unknown meadows
green hues untuned
4/12 - bound by glory
triumph without honor
weighted upon shoulders
crowned by chains
Day 13
I took my daughter to the Yuanlin Night Market tonight. It’s a vibrant place for families and for young ones to hang out and relax while snacking and playing games. There’s a large LED-lit dragon and the trains pass by on the elevated railway nearby.
Traffic
We scoot the night with a light made to cut
The dark and the silence of the road, down
To the place a dragon guards in plain view.We park our steed and stash our helmets well—
For anything owned can be a treasure
And hungry thieves will feast on what’s offered.She kills balloons with air and plastic shots
As I sip iced passion fruit elixirs
And watch the boiling oil annoint our fries.We return with golden corn on the cob
First soaked in salt water and then eaten
On the go, blessed by the dragon above.
Day 14
I was so nervous about submitting my short fiction for the Fractured Lit Chapbook Prize today. But I did it! I submitted 15 short pieces of fiction for the prize and need to wait 2 or 3 months to hear if “Whispers of Wisps” won the prize. This was a great exercise for me to put stories together in a collection. This has made me think about what I’ll be doing with the short poems I write here on Substack for April. Putting a collection together is a tough but worthwhile challenge. Today’s poem consists only of the words and punctuation of the titles of my chapbook submission.
Lang <W>itch
Spilled milk leaps
Into the desert.Oh architect of breaking things
Without pause for concern
Digging in open circlesDear strong silent ball
Conditioned to be humanTaking the manufactured plunge
Of the dense needle pinMilk, a con game
Figure of overkillDo the letter:
To type quinque!
Day 15
I had a window seat on the train today. As usual, the rising sun is at just the wrong angle, so I had to pull the curtains closed to save my eyes.
The Window Seat
Sitting in the morning sun at first, but
Now with curtains drawn
I draw myself in, and
Close my eyes to drown
In warm darkness where fire
Is a memory, and
Light, a dream.
Day 16
I notice things that others usually don’t pay much attention to. It might be something odd, something beautiful, something tiny and dull, or something out of place. This morning I noticed something I haven’t seen before while walking to the train station from where I parked my scooter.
Single Use & Durable
Here on the crossing
I stop and start on the corner
Daring the traffic to stand still
While I dance between curbs.Only this time I notice an old Durex condom
(Still like new) in it’s battered packet
With wears and tears to mark its passing
As to why it crossed the road to only stop here,Almost about to mount the curb,
I can only guess it must have expired.
Day 17
On the train home today I saw a large young man taking up two seats. He had lifted up the middle arm rest, had a laptop balanced on his stomach, and had his foot on the other seat’s footrest. I could see his very large yellow crocs as I entered the carriage. Today’s poem is inspired by him.
Spreading
man spreads himself thick
across two slices of chairhe blows his trumpet song:
”stay away—i am sick!”and returns to his world;
his open laptop hums an erotic tune—he retreats from reality
as the train moves on swiftly.
Day 18
One of the pieces I learned how to play in my teens is Jack Fina’s “Bumble Boogie.” I thought of the piece when I saw some bees doing their dance of the flowers and pollen today on my walk from the train station to my bicycle.
Check out Jack playing his piece over here on Youtube:
Flight of the Bumbling Bee
A little stumble and a sway
Made a heavy bee bumble my way.With drunken zigzag moves of joy
The bee flew onto my hand and paused,Buzzing quite clumsily, until with golden wings
And darkened stripes, it danced for me.As flowers bloomed in applause
Clapping nectar rich hands, I pausedTo hum a new boogie woogie melody
For my bumbling friend, the bee.
Day 19
A friend on Facebook asked a question about naming an animal. He asked, “A zombie wombat. is it zombat or a wombie?” This poem is inspired by that question!
Zombie Wombat
a full moon glances off headstones tonight
as a zombie wombat emerges from its burrowoh, hey, I say in passing,
it’s a wombie zombat!to which the zombie wombat growls
zomwom womzom zomzomzomI am not completely fluent in wombat
but I think it wants my white jumpsuitI oblige, and observe the womzie in my onesie
lit by the moon and my loving smilewe’re officially married after a bite or two
and embark on spreading this romcom love
Day 20
Today’s poem is inspired by the 7 Three Word Horoscopes I received this week. I love how horoscopes can describe where you are, where you’ve been, and also where you’re heading.
can levitate today / support our boops / fingers are snack / time of cholera / bro they know / misspelled tattoo energy / dripping with sweaters
Predictions from the Past
They tell me I will levitate into levity
If I follow my urges into nonsense, so
I consult my fingernails for dirt
And mine the depths of a soap bar for news:Somebody that I used to know
Used to tell me secrets not worth passing on
In the form of misspelled ink on skin to sink in sin—
His beads of sweat were not from honest work.I will levitate on my own terms
As my crazy ideas take their turns:
Grateful for the years they’re taking
To mature into a future worth believing in.
I really like the one about your dad. Vivid and poignant.