Posted in Poetry, Tabletop Poetry (and Other Artforms)

30 in 30: DAY 30!

And the monkeys don’t like us.
They sit on the ladders to their windows
and yell that we’re taking their land.
They look down on us
like we don’t have enough fur for them,
but I don’t see how something so furry
could survive in all this heat.
We hear them in the night,
complaining about what the world is coming to,
with the likes of us moving in,
as if there isn’t enough room
in the rain forest for everyone,
as if there aren’t tree houses aplenty.
Mom says they just don’t like different.
And sure, there’s a human neighborhood
across the canopy,
but the schools here are better,
and we’ve got the right
to send our kids anywhere we choose. 

Posted in Poetry, Tabletop Poetry (and Other Artforms)

30 in 30 Day 24: The Three-Eyed Sphinx

Yesterday’s napowrimo prompt was to write a poem about an animal. And it just so happened that my Dixit card for the day met that criteria perfectly. So I decided to go with a bit of a nature-documentary style poem about this creature here:

The Three-Eyed Sphinx

And here, you will see the rare, three-eyed sphinx.
Like other sphinxes, the three-eyed sphinx
has the face of a human,
the wings of an eagle,
and the body of a lion.
But apart from having three eyes,
the three-eyed sphinx also has a blue face,
the antlers of a dear,
and a unique sense of fashion.
You can see that this one has chosen
to wear a bowler hat.
And like most three-eyed sphinxes,
it drapes its antlers with keys.
All sphinxes like to find their home guarding things,
and most are known for telling riddles.
But instead of waiting in front of one door with a question,
the three-eyed sphinx collects the keys to many doors
and wanders freely with them.
To get to the place it guards,
you must first find the three-eyed sphinx
and discover which key you need.
It will give you the key, if you prove you are worthy.
But the three-eyed sphinx also carries the key
to its own chest.
And if someone were to determine
which key that was, they could open its chest and kill it.

Posted in Poetry, Tabletop Poetry (and Other Artforms)

30 in 30: Day 23

On day nineteen, napowrimo’s prompt was to write an abecedarian poem. What I ended up with also felt appropriate for the day after Earth Day:

A goldfish swims through the city
Boys wake from their slumber to see
City buildings, slime covered, as the fish looks for a method to breathe
Dogs bark at the monster, but soon
Every one of them
Flees under beds, under tables, afraid of the
Goldfish’s wide open maw, opening and closing
He cannot blow bubbles here
Icicles drip into its gills
Jolting the fish with new energy
Keeping it alive in this place
Laced with pollutants
Magically, it keeps swimming,
Not stopping for buildings or smoke or cars
Out late, barely noticing the lights
Pointing toward it as helicopters come to investigate
Quickening, it swims onward
Rousing family after family
Sensing a strange fin brush their windows
Terrified this sea creature is an omen
Underlying what they have always known
Victory in the end will belong to the Earth
We are only guests here
Xenodiagnostic studies have found the infection while we are still
Young, and rather than be overtaken by our
Zealousness, she will recover.

Posted in Poetry, Tabletop Poetry (and Other Artforms)

30 in 30: Day 22

What do you know? Today’s napowrimo prompt is to write an ekphrastic poem–my specialty! On Day 17, the prompt was to write a scene from an unusual point of view. So I combined these two with yesterday’s Dixit card.

The ribbon tastes like a truffle in my mouth.
It is smooth and silky, and slices away so easily.
But it is special. It is dessert.
There is no sustenance in cutting satin ribbons
in front of buildings. There is only pleasure in it,
in feeling the silky smoothness
of the satin slice between my teeth.
But why can’t I find a meal in other satin?
Why should I not cut the pieces of a satin shirt?
The shirt bears more nutrients.
It will hold up longer, be worn again and again,
not merely discarded at the end of the ceremony.
But then what of the cotton shirt
or the cotton pillowcase? Cotton is ever so fibrous.
Healthy, perhaps, but it tastes like bread.
Though it’s soft, it doesn’t bear the silky texture
of the truffle satin. And denim, though delightful,
is rather hard to chew. But at least it’s not paper.
Paper, that sticks to my teeth
until I can bite nothing else. Paper,
that is even less nutritious than satin.

Posted in Poetry, Tabletop Poetry (and Other Artforms)

30 in 30: Day 21

Yesterday’s napowrimo prompt was to write a poem that talks. With a little help from a handy-dandy Dixit card, I produced this:

Catch me if you can! said the little scissors to the big. 
Oh, I know I will. You’re nothing but a twig.
I’m just as fine as you, for I am mighty sharp.
Oh is that the reason you had trouble cutting through that tarp?
But you cut the ribbon last year! Because I’m tried and true!
But your blades are duller. I am young and new!
If you don’t both stop this squabbling, I will have to do.

Posted in Poetry, Tabletop Poetry (and Other Artforms)

30 in 30 Day 18: The Tree of Imagination

I didn’t really notice this card at first, but upon a closer inspection, I discovered I really like it. Like, this is probably one of my favorite cards. There is just so much going on in this picture. And I barely touch on it in the poem:

The Tree of Imagination

The view looks good from down here.
The gears are spinning,
the pages are turning.
Yup, we can see everything.
There’s Sunny on her bicycle.
We’re rooting of her to win
the next big bicycle race.
The trophy is down that way.
I think it might be bigger than me.
We’d need the both of us to pick it up.
Look, there’s the Wests and the Porters.
They’ve lived next to each other
for centuries.
They have nothing in common,
But they always put with each other.
Oh! And there’s Peter West, Sunny’s brother
And her America Porter.
They’ve been hanging out in secret.
They think nobody sees them kiss,
but we do.
And that means we see America’s brother,
Aaron. And we know he’s happy
About her and Peter,
just wishes they’d stop keeping it a secret.
Good old Uncle Peter.
He finds the joy in everything.
And look! There’s us.
Under our tree.

Posted in Tabletop Poetry (and Other Artforms), Tabletop Teacher

30 in 30 Day 13: The Ghost Saloon

Thirteen being my favorite number, I thought I’d explore it today, following Robert Lee Brewer’s Day 8 prompt. And it meshes well with today’s napowrimo prompt.

There were 13 people inside
when the saloon burned to the ground.
no one knows how it got started…
a match used to light a cigarette
and not properly put out…
a bolt of lightning…
or a good old fashioned stick of dynamite.
Whatever it was, that old saloon
went up like tinder
and didn’t stop burning
Until a rainstorm put it out.
Now, where there were floorboards,
there is a lake.
Even the trees nearby
were too scorched
to grow.
But the old saloon doors remain
in the middle of the lake
untouched.
No one knows why.
Not even the ghosts.

They say those 13 people
never left the lake
They dance across the waters
as if they never noticed the floor was gone
Sometimes the sheriff goes out
to greet new comers passing by.
Though they usually believe
the old saloon doors
were blown open by nothing
but the wind.
Others say they hear
the clinking of glass bottles
or even the sound of the bartender
calling a familiar name.

The ghosts aren’t evil, after all.
They’re as friendly as they ever were.
And would be happy for anyone to join them
physically, that is–
no dying necessary.
Some days, Clarence strikes up his fiddle
And everyone dances
thinking a party may bring folks in
But no one dances better than Lucy,
who would entice every man,
but never did choose one.
Even Will, who blew in
from out of town the week
before the fire
watched her fondly
though he never made a move.
Every day, he swears
that if anyone can dance well enough
to wake the living, it’s Lucy.

While they’re waitin’
Zeke, Hank, and Kit
gather ’round the table
for a friendly game of poker.
When the saloon burned down,
Kit was dressed as man.
But the ghosts have gotten
to know each other well enough
that these days no one cares she’s a woman.
So she lets her hair down
And sometimes even plays darts
with the deputy.
She’s getting good too.
He says if sheriff ever decides
to go on to the other side
he’ll make Kit his deputy.
Though everybody knows Hannah
is the one that’s good at settling conflicts.
She’s just got a knack for it.
Came in the bar to preach
the gospel.
Came the same day as Owen and Nora,
newlyweds who’d planned to rob the place
only it burned down before they could.
Some of the ghosts thought they set the fire
But it was Hannah got them all talkin’ nice.
And now, as they all wait, Nora sings along
as her husband plays piano
to the fishes.