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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
January 27, 2012
Old haunts by ~square-nine is a small but engaging moment of a poem.
Featured by ikazon
Literature Text
Numb fingers fumble at coppers
and a dodgy purple lighter which is unfit for purpose.
Giant splodges of stars
as if God - in a frolic of youthful exuberance –
went wild with a paintbrush.
Granite delicately held by shape and contour alone.
Slotted together: a melee of ankles, hips, spontaneous larynx.
Careless hopes, dreams wide, menthol cigarettes.
Thoughts all quiet.
and a dodgy purple lighter which is unfit for purpose.
Giant splodges of stars
as if God - in a frolic of youthful exuberance –
went wild with a paintbrush.
Granite delicately held by shape and contour alone.
Slotted together: a melee of ankles, hips, spontaneous larynx.
Careless hopes, dreams wide, menthol cigarettes.
Thoughts all quiet.
Literature
Snowstorm
The children misheard you.
They broke open the jar
looking for petals
and found only flours.
The dust is everywhere,
settling everywhere,
on the refrigerator and the stove,
on the startled mother cat
yowling her pawprints
through the snowy floor,
on her sharp-eared kittens
prancing in the clouds.
The three-year old is screaming.
He has cut his finger on the glass,
there are red streaks in the snow,
and his white-faced brother
stares up at you with a look
commonly reserved for
the confused and the betrayed.
Literature
Old Nightclubs
I love how you feel
like a Billie Holiday song,
or a blues poem crammed affectionately
in my back pocket with a half-
life in cigarettes.
There is a science to our forgetfulness, maybe
it was the smoke that made you vanish, or the gin,
or maybe it was when I surpassed the proper amount
of yearning.
Walking home that night, heavy
with empty glasses and last
requests, I hummed
an old jazz tune and
surrendered to it.
Literature
Tale 2: Worlds in the Attic
He was very old by now. His long, white hair, uncut for fifteen years, was loosely spread all over the back of his coat. His shoulders were brought forward by age, his fingers weren't as deft as they had been. If there was one thing he was very happy for, it was that when he had started, he had used the higher shelves first. It meant he didn't have to climb steep, uncertain ladders all the time now.
There were hundreds, thousands of jars and bottles and little tin boxes neatly stacked on the shelves, hung from the ceiling by thin chains or ropes, some small and precious glass containers brought together by ropes hanging from the ceiling like
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Written for HammeredPoetry #6 [link]
An extraordinary moment in one which is very ordinary indeed.
Edit: Wow, I got a DD! Thank you all so much for your kind comments, favourites, and of course to lightningmonkey for the feature.
An extraordinary moment in one which is very ordinary indeed.
Edit: Wow, I got a DD! Thank you all so much for your kind comments, favourites, and of course to lightningmonkey for the feature.
© 2012 - 2024 square-nine
Comments19
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i feel cool because i favorite this before it was a DD.