Date: 05/23/2023
My personal definition of poetry
My personal definition of poetry is that it is an artform, much like music and songwriting, that speaks to people. Connecting with your audience, whether that be a single person or thousands, is a key component of poetry and its creation.
I would say that my definition of poetry has changed slightly since the beginning of the unit. Moreso, I know where I fit better as a writer within the parameters of poetry and what I enjoy reading. I have a better understanding of what poetry can be and what it can express, because I have had many more opportunities to practice my writing skills with various formats of poetry writing. Using trial and error with these creative assignments has helped me figure out what works, and what I enjoy when it comes to writing.
Date: 05/23/2023
Parasitic Genus - Diamante
corpse flower
grand and ugly
sprouting, blooming, standing
ugly, bold, protruding, new
closing, wilting, dying
soft, gentle, tender
death
Date: 05/23/2023
Bogeyman - Haiku
shimmering white light
you look as pale as a sheet
room too dark to see
have you seen him here
lurking underneath your feet
a growl awaits me
the monster underneath
cuddled up with dust bunnies
resting sound asleep
Date: 05/23/2023
Ophelia's Darlings - Haiku
when they find me here
floating along the river
I hope I look nice
bloated and puffy
a return to the ocean
energy set free
Ophelia lies
in wake with her darlings
waiting for me there
Date: 05/23/2023
My Darling Turns to Poetry at Night
My darling turns to poetry at night.
What began as flirtation, an aside
Between abstract expression and first light
Now finds form as a silent, startled flight
Of commas on her face — a breath, a word ...
My darling turns to poetry at night.
When rain inspires the night birds to create
Rhyme and formal verse, stanzas can be made
Between abstract expression and first light.
Her heartbeat is a metaphor, a late
Bloom of red flowers that refuse to fade.
My darling turns to poetry at night.
I watch her turn. I do not sleep. I wait
For symbols, for a sign that fear has died
Between abstract expression and first light.
Her dreams have night vision, and in her sight
Our bodies leave ghostprints on the bed.
My darling turns to poetry at night
Between abstract expression and first light.
- Anthony Lawrence
Date: 05/23/2023
Death Under the Sun - Villanelle
Horror in sunlight
Your knife in broad day
I bleach bloody sheets as they remain off-white.
Bodies laden with frostbite
Stiff and sodden, bathed in grey.
Horror in sunlight
Our shovels move after twilight
I didn't have much of a say
I bleach bloody sheets as they remain off-white.
You promised that we would be alright
Hidden in the tall grass and hay
Horror in sunlight
Your alibi is airtight
They place my heart on the scales to weigh
I bleach bloody sheets as they remain off-white.
They say it is your birthright
Love will always be what you betray
Horror in sunlight
I bleach bloody sheets as they remain off-white.
Date: 05/23/2023
Found Poem
morning in San Francisco
dawned full of promise
ancient Roman cookery
a kiss
a radiant smile
breakfast
promise to be home no later than three
early
a gnarled hand
she has to see you
eccentric, protuberant eyes
a heavy chain around her neck
impatience verged on desperation
it is a family matter
I need you here and now
expressing regrets
on the verge of tears
please help me, i have never begged
Words from Nobody Cared for Kate by Gene Thompson
Date: 05/23/2023
Sweet Midori
teeth
rough and jagged
like broken fine china
and bites
open and weeping
a wound in the biblical sense
it's not my fault
that I am hungry and bleeding
sorry about the floors
deep stains on your heirloom carpet
the same shade of scarlet on your cheek
I'm sorry that that's too much for you
the blood in your mouth tastes of rock salt
instead of tart apple popping candy
you want the dress-up princess to your hero
and I get that,
but I'm the monster in someone's garage
nestled in my bed
of dead, unblinking Christmas lights
this is what you asked for
this is what you wanted
until I showed you all that it could be
you want sugar
sweetness
sweet midori after all
simple syrup, burnt
and boiling over just for you
you want campfire stories
s'mores and wild nights
as I vomit in the corner
green as the dark trees above
in the morning my corpse
will wait for you
acrid and pale and cold