Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Poems for the Other Half of April

Ok, this month was WAY harder than last year.  So yes, 30, was finally written, although I've been writing it in my head and heart for a few weeks. 

Poems for the other half of April

Sometimes we all look at the moon
And wonder
And remind ourselves of all we do not yet know

19. Beach
New suit new flip-flops
Packing car with what will be
Mostly unused stuff

20. Beach 2
Parking lot night mare
Rage against tourist filled cars
Spot found near Egypt.

21. Beach 3
No fire pits left
Mini hibatchi saves day
Marshmallows later

22. Beach 4
Spread out beach blanket
Lasts thirty seconds before
Sand encrustation

23. Beach 5
Sunscreen applied thick
Dreams of sun-kissed golden skin
Water calls, laughing.

24. Beach 6
Salty water up
Nose forced by nature isn’t
A good neti pot.

25.  Beach 7
Wave walking only
occurs when your feet fly up
Head under water

26.  Beach 9
SPF thirty
Never works against suns lips
Stained red kisses

27. Beach 10
Sun creeps down blue sky
Rays hit water flashing green
Bye red lips lover

28.  Beach 10
Heated skin cool night
Air chilled but not enough to
Stop marshmallow death

29.  Beach 11
Good bye sun and sand
Left red and sandy trudging
Moon lit beach sweet dreams 

30.  Home

When you said you were going home
It did not come as a surprise
But sadness crept into my heart
Knowing you would be far away.

Far away has been where you have been for a long time
And no one can blame you for being there
Especially when your puppy has been kept in a cage
By caretakers who refused to let you feed or water yourself
Kicked you every time you came near
And kept moving so you wouldn’t find them
So you gave it up when you had no other choices

We will all reach that point
Where aging parent s need the care
They freely gave to us as infants
You just didn’t have the opportunity.
So when he gave you something no one else could
A safe place to land
The choice was never a choice

And when you spoke your truth
About what you were returning to
And getting another puppy
That was really when I knew

So go home
Home to the place you once lived
Let those walls you daydreamed behind
Feed the fire that’s been tending in your soul
Let the carpets be the trampoline from which you launch
Grow the grass
Cut it with a lawnmower
Build a dog house
Make plans over beer and barbecue
And go get your puppy
Let him run in the grass
Feed him and water him well
Let him lick your face
We all know he’ll poop in the house and it will smell sometimes
But you’ll never regret letting him in the house to love you
The caretakers will come and try to tell you what to do with him
Some will be kinder and you’ll take what they have to say to heart
You’ll have to let him play with other dogs
It’s how they learn, sometimes the hard way
But know that ultimately, it’s your puppy,
That can grow into a dog
That stays loyal to you even when others walk away
Because you know who you are
And that was never a choice.

@2013 Jennie Olson Six

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

National Poetry Month 16 and 17


Inspiration lost
still putting pen to paper
hoping for the words.

Long time in the head

fracture spin think think think what did oh really not a chance to change mind spin splinter why how no no no and again repeat spin fracture think think ponder reality disconnect disconnected alone what no one likes me repeat spiral fracture think think react spin what again wait breathe pause spiral pause spiral think interrupt pause breathe past no now yes pause fracture interrupt breathe out let out not here not now think now feet ground root now breathe now think legs now head up breathe out let out not now now here breathe now let go now today good today breathe break a pattern breathe think breathe live breathe inhale now inhale yes exhale yesterday think yes breath yes now yes today yes everything yes life yes breathe yes.  now. 

Monday, April 15, 2013

5 stupid poems

Writing Fail

Writer's Block
leads to pounding head on keyboard
insane debates between the voices in my head
and full fetal position

yeah.....let's keep doin' that.


What is most unfortunate
is that I was not born with a shell
to pull my head and body into
to hide from that which threatens me.
Instead, I was born with soft skin
thin in places and bruises easily
my knees are permanently scared.
But I can move slowly
deliberately and with purpose
and remind myself I don't need
a shell to hide from the world
I just need too slow down and take it all in.

5 7 5

Adds to seventeen
Sometimes pure frustration leads
To a clear moment.  

Kevin Six's Famous Last Words

I would only have sex with her once just to say that I did.
You are to obey me in a Christian Household.
We live in a Christian household and you as a good Christian wife are to do that for me.
Pretty much anything that starts with "Christian Household."
In case anyone wonders why....

When the World Blows Up

When the world blows up
will anything need to be said
or remembered or done
other than to grab each other
and go....

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

National Poetry Month - 9 and ten

You had blonde hair
buck teeth with a huge gap
big round thick glasses that welfare would pay for
and the development of self-consciousness
this would not go away for decades
and leave you with self-destructive tendancies
and deep shame of simply being alive
coming from the man who abandoned you
but was never really there to begin with
the one who would fail to pay for your braces
so your mother had them scraped off
and you watched them spread back apart
and grow crooked again.
But what this left you with
besides the scar you'd heal yourself
is a memory of you and your best friend
in the bathroom
trying to get her retainer to fit into your mouth
connecting paperclips with failed attempts
to keep your pretty together
and a reminder of when you were young
you were kind to each other
looked out for one another
and kept each others secrets
if only to give each other comfort
and show you what love really is.


Still dark still sleepy

Too soon for night to say bye
yet here calls the day.

@2013 Jennie O6

Monday, April 8, 2013

NPM 7 of 30 8 of 30

To A New Terrain

This shifting speechless
tearing new path left behind
all I didn't need.

Chicken Bones

The reminder of
there was a living being
you tore through and ate.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

National Poetry Month 5....maybe 6....


Denial isn't
A river in Eypgt if
you're swimming it....

The Zombie Apocalypse Came

You and I were not supposed to be friends
It was through our broken we stitched up bandages
made of marijuana, alcohol, methamphatamine and anything
else someone could offer us in exchange for things
teen-aged girls shouldn't be selling.

After intolerable, I started to get out
you had two birds in your nest born from neglect of the world
not giving their mother refuge from the horror she was born into
but you finally found your way out
and back to nesting
but it would not last.

Before I left for sunnier pastures
you started telling the truth again
letting the sweat and the shakes pour out
in my spare bedroom
I encouraged you to keep coming back
it isn't easy but it is the only way
but you chose your own option.

You've had a few last words:
"Your sister wasn't very tough, she couldn't handle the drugs."
"I heard her youngest was adopted by foster parents."

Then your picture
Identical to your mother at the age we met:
Dead, vacant eyes,
Swollen alcholic skin
Nothing left of the beauty once there
Just a mimographed copy of a woman
whose choices led to your abuse
who never got different
who never left you better
so you watched it all happen
her stumble-down drunk dance
with the poison which eventually took everything
and in spite of the breadcrumbs and interventions
chose to put on her shoes and walk right in them
Until you've stopped walking

Friday, April 5, 2013

National Poetry Month 4

Morning Meditation

Sitting for peaceful purposes,
I am flooded by the pain
of what we do to each other
and what we do to ourselves.

I am reminded of the idea
that evil is just the absense of good
and that we have forgotten
that we are the ones we are looking for.

If God is a reflection of the eyes I am looking at
then what happens when God forgets
who they are and what they are here for
so I remind myself, again, to remember.