Monday, April 23, 2012
This week our prompt is The Hammer.
Write about this to your hearts content! and then, share it with us at the poetry club, of course!
And remember! April is national poetry month, so write for the occasion.
Hope to see you in our usual place, tuesdays at the Hot Shot cafe from 3-4!
Write about this to your hearts content! and then, share it with us at the poetry club, of course!
And remember! April is national poetry month, so write for the occasion.
Hope to see you in our usual place, tuesdays at the Hot Shot cafe from 3-4!
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Always, by Pablo Neruda
I am not jealous
of what came before me.
Come with a man
on your shoulders,
come with a hundred men in your hair,
come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet,
come like a river
full of drowned men
which flows down to the wild sea,
to the eternal surf, to Time!
Bring them all
to where I am waiting for you;
we shall always be alone,
we shall always be you and I
alone on earth,
to start our life!
I am not jealous
of what came before me.
Come with a man
on your shoulders,
come with a hundred men in your hair,
come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet,
come like a river
full of drowned men
which flows down to the wild sea,
to the eternal surf, to Time!
Bring them all
to where I am waiting for you;
we shall always be alone,
we shall always be you and I
alone on earth,
to start our life!
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Come one come all, to spring term 2011 at LBCC! For some of us it is our last term (meeee! I'm so excited!) and for others it's not! But what better way to celebrated new term than to write some poetry, or come to poetry club?
Our poetry club is starting up again this week, same time, same place. (Tuesday, 3-4, Hot Shot Cafe)
Drop by and give us a listen, or a tune, or whatever you like, because we are always there for every emotion, sound, phase, image, feeling, etc.
I hope to see you there!
Our poetry club is starting up again this week, same time, same place. (Tuesday, 3-4, Hot Shot Cafe)
Drop by and give us a listen, or a tune, or whatever you like, because we are always there for every emotion, sound, phase, image, feeling, etc.
I hope to see you there!
Monday, March 12, 2012
We have two prompts!
I grow wild without you and almost a friend
These prompts are courtesy of an amazing poet who joins us each week named Rick, and they were both so good that we couldn't decide which one! So please, write to one of them, either of them, or neither of them, but bring your work to the poetry club on Tuesday, from 3-4 in the hot shot cafe!
Oh, and P.S, are you guys as happy about the term almost being over as I am? Because I could not be rejoicing more.
I grow wild without you and almost a friend
These prompts are courtesy of an amazing poet who joins us each week named Rick, and they were both so good that we couldn't decide which one! So please, write to one of them, either of them, or neither of them, but bring your work to the poetry club on Tuesday, from 3-4 in the hot shot cafe!
Oh, and P.S, are you guys as happy about the term almost being over as I am? Because I could not be rejoicing more.
Almost A Friend by Rick Casillas
You in bloom, in soft red turn.
Green I think, greener than I would have thought.
I like the clock behind me, you look in it's direction often.
And I think, in moments past, that maybe it was me you wanted and not the time.
And I hear you, once or twice a day.
In clatter and song, your voice rises in my seeking.
Worthy, proud, flutters of motion adrift in flight.
There are Others, they have longer necks, and louder voices that do not rise.
Crude manicured hands that shape mirrors to waste in.
But your bird has willow thick petals for eyes,
and the curve of its neck, trembles and thrums in sweet soulful ache.
Your melody is lullaby and seed, drifting, absent of effort towards me in falter blue plume.
And it's cheek, soft as you, pink as you, but less shy.
I tell it you're beautiful, and I like your tattoos.
But for all the kindess I would rather not know you, this glad mildness will suffice,
Because I know you want the time, and have not seen me instead.
You in bloom, in soft red turn.
Green I think, greener than I would have thought.
I like the clock behind me, you look in it's direction often.
And I think, in moments past, that maybe it was me you wanted and not the time.
And I hear you, once or twice a day.
In clatter and song, your voice rises in my seeking.
Worthy, proud, flutters of motion adrift in flight.
There are Others, they have longer necks, and louder voices that do not rise.
Crude manicured hands that shape mirrors to waste in.
But your bird has willow thick petals for eyes,
and the curve of its neck, trembles and thrums in sweet soulful ache.
Your melody is lullaby and seed, drifting, absent of effort towards me in falter blue plume.
And it's cheek, soft as you, pink as you, but less shy.
I tell it you're beautiful, and I like your tattoos.
But for all the kindess I would rather not know you, this glad mildness will suffice,
Because I know you want the time, and have not seen me instead.
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