April is here again. I come to this sacred month of poets with little expectation simply because of time constraints. I have undertaken the task of being the voice of our high school baseball team and April will see two home games per week, making for long, killer days. Nonetheless, I will write and post as often as it is possible.
Happy Writing, Y’all! ~Jill
Unasked questions
spread across her face
seeping into and out of
the corners of her eyes
You caught each other
in the act of making
other plans
All that is left
is one long sour
embrace
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
Day 24 of April / National & Global Poetry Writing Month. This is the 22nd poem in a Narrative Series that I call She&He in which I explore the relationship between two fictional characters. Their story can be found right here by scrolling back through the month. Thank you to those who have been reading along with them. Cheers, Jilly 🙂
She & He #22
could you try to ignore
the things you know —
spend a lifetime
placing pennies
in the corners
of a round room
turn out the lights
pretend to forget
return each year
expecting them
to be face up
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
Day 22 at Glo/NaPoWriMo we are challenged to write a poem using a phrase of impossibility.
She & He #20
Is it her scar that you love
or her?
Your therapist’s question
gnaws at you
like you gnaw at that knob
on the inside of your cheek
that you love and
so painfully cultivate
I hate it when he asks questions like that.
He’s usually right.
Why do you love her scar?
Because it keeps her from being
something perfect
Because if she is imperfect
then it makes my scars
less
Interrogate
Hesitate
Congratulate
Dangerous questions —
the gnaw
on the inside
of your being
that you
so painfully cultivate
Knowing the truth
of your answers
you rush west
when she
flees east,
you sally north
when she souths,
parlay when she folds
Lovest thou me?
Lovest thou my imperfection?
Lovest that it legalizes thine?
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
Day 21 / She & He #19
With recognition to time spent in and around the theater, I don’t find it especially difficult to get into the mind and the voice of a character. As many of you know, I have been writing a series of narrative poems during April. It was not a conscious choice; it just happened. I have jokingly said that these two characters have chained me to my laptop in the basement and bid me write their story. By the way, I call these two “She & He” backstage. Many of the poems have been prompted by NaPoWriMo or Poetic Asides, but I am often a day or two behind on those excellent prompts. Today I took a day off work, went to a favorite Euro Market, ate shrimp, drank wine and determined that I would write and post from both prompts. NaPo suggested Rebellious writing (which I love!) and Robert Brewer charged us with taking the last line of a recent poem and making that the first line for today. I went with the last line of Palette Knife, which I posted yesterday: “Was that what she felt?” wherein, He is wondering about the scar that She has running from her lips. In true rebellious spirit, She took pen in hand, breaking every rule of poetry, and actually addresses both you, the reader, and I, the writer. Here is the outcome: (p.s. I must say, I was rather stunned by what was written here.)
“Was this what she felt?”
How does he know what I feel?
How do you, Jilly-the-Poet
Or you, blog readers?
For the last eighteen days
you all have been focused on Him-
the ‘You’ of these poems,
gossiping about my scar,
speculating
as if I’m not even here!
Which of you has had a razor blade
taken to your face
at the hand of one who has promised
to love you, to treasure you, to
raise you as their own?
Would you have ducked as efficiently as
I did at thirteen?
“Was this what she felt?”
“Was this what she fucking felt?!”
In one respect you’re right.
You don’t feel it until you taste the blood.
Then you feel it every day
Every minute
Every second.
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
Day 20 / She & He #18
She rounded the board
rolling doubles
landing on all of your
premiums
buying up the property
of your days,
your nights.
She built houses
on your Primal Itch,
scratched behind
every ear
until you howled,
and while,
by Chance,
you were caught
in some endless
out-of-luck
out-to-lunch
corner, barred
from play
by your own
bad rolls
She passed Go.
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
Day 17
Once again I’m a day late and dollar short – this is the Day 16 NaPo prompt. Oh well! The saga of my two characters continues to roll along through the month of April. Not sure how their game will end up.
She & He #13
Draining the ink
from your story
she makes
everything new.
Polyps bubble
on your face,
your hands
bursting open
as desert flowers
in blinding oranges
and strangling yellows.
You come forth
running with the sun
held above your head.
You are Ra.
Great Ra.
Mighty Ra.
Your heart will not stand as
a witness against you.
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
And still these two characters bid me write their story during the month of April. This is Day 13. A nod to Poetic Asides for the prompt and a nod to my pillow for being too tired to go post this there. 🙂 Happy Friday, Y’all!
She & He #9
This pixie
with the fragmented
smile
picks up your fallen
papers
your fallen days
as the elevator
lightly hammers
eleven…
twelve…
thirteen. She vanishes
through the doors
thirteen thirteen thirteen
and you continue
to nineteen
feeling all the pressure
of five stops between
How many times do you ride
and return
forgot my coffee cup
forgot my phone
forgot…
waiting for enchantment
at thirteen?
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
Day 8 of NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo and we are encouraged to explore the magical and mysterious in our writing. In keeping with the mystery of April, I continue the unintended story of two people that began on Day 3.
She & He #6
Take this
Blank
Canvas
Lick
Your finest brush
Paint my
Plumage
In the colors
You
Choose
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
At NaPoWriMo / GloPoWri/Mo we are encouraged to play with and make full use of line breaks with intention.
She & He #4
“ Today, we challenge you to write a poem that is based on a secret shame, or a secret pleasure. “ GloPo / NaPoWriMo
Y’all will prob’ly think that I’m nuts
but the thing that I crave is merely jus’ this
don’t want a can that’s all mixed and such
a day packed with anthems is all that I wish
Cold beer in my left hand, score pad in t’ other
a cellophane bag perched between suntanned knees
this is the line-up in summer I’d druther
I shell those dry roasteds, dust an’ skins to the breeze
Like the o’er confident show-off who takes pen in hand
completing the Times crossword on Sunday in ink
pristine is my scorecard, no balk for this fan
don’t miss a play – don’t even blink
Shells at my feet, crunching dry powder
beer down to suds, what remains is a ring,
fans in a frenzy, the crowd gets but louder
then round the seventh we all stand to sing
Give me a game where the pitchers do battle
outsmarting the hitters, scoreless the day
burn past the bull-pen, closers unsaddle,
last nut in the bag is a rare triple-play.
© Jilly’s All Rights Reserved
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