The Shiny Down or The Ethereal Up

Similar to what I was seeing. c. K. Branson

Tonight the sky is amazing.  There is an almost full moon and a mountain sky filled with the most beautiful cotton puff clouds.  There is no breeze and the crickets have started their chirping.  I can even here a bird that I have yet to identify but he sounds sort of like he’s laughing.

I am always accused of looking at the sky nowadays.  I’m always looking up, or remarking to someone how beautiful the sky is.  My mother is forever asking me if all I ever do is look up.  I have to blame her though.  For years all I did was look down at the ground.  I was always on the hunt for something shiny.  And the common comment was, “don’t you ever look up?”

So, now I look up.  I still look down.  You never know when you might find that stray dime or quarter.  The common penny.  Heck, you might even find a washer or bit of shiny glass.

I like to think that I can relate to Shelley (Percy Bysshe) and his poetry being ethereal.  While I’ve yet to read much of his, I did find it to be more focused on the air and light things.

I’m not as grounded as I probably should be. I spend way more time daydreaming plotting about things that are far from reality.  Yet, can you name a poet, writer, novelist, etc. that is actually grounded?  They all have their moments of what could be termed insanity, though I would rather say it’s just creativity taking hold.  Take Emily Dickinson, one of my favorite poets.  She was more melancholy than others, yet there were moments of pure freedom.

That’s what I tend to do. I shy away from the gloom and dreary things in life.  I think sometimes it will hinder my writing.  I don’t have enough conflict.

Well, I’ll go back to my earlier statement.  I blame my mother on why I always look  up.

It’s the Thread

This is a pair of Levi’s®,
buttons and rivets and pockets and cuffs,

and the thread that holds it together.

When the road gets rough and the sky gets jumpy and the stars start falling on top of your head and the waves start breaking against your legs;

It’s the thread in your seams that’s tied to your dreams.

It’s the sole in your feet that keep the beat;

You’re gonna be great, you’re gonna be great, you’re gonna be great;
You’re gonna find the cure, you’re gonna be famous, you’re gonna be shameless.
Spittin’ seeds in the wind, tap dancing with your shoe laces pinned, to the back
of a bus at the end of the road, at the bottom of the ninth, with a crown on your head

You’re a queen, you’re a king, you’re the solo act in a sold out show at a six story stadium, and you’re proud, you’re a hero! You got a hero’s grip. Swingin’ by a
single stitch. You follow your heart, follow the leader, you’re the leader;

Are you joking, are you breaking, are you shaking? You’re the next living leader of the world. You’re a kid. Holding onto the thread. That holds it together.

This is a pair of Levi’s®

 If you have been watching television lately, you will have seen the new ad for Levi’s jeans which is the above, lyrics included.  Either you love it or hate it.  I am in the love category, while my father hates it.

I find it to be one of the most lyrical ads out there, and it’s like a mini  bit of slam poetry.  Something that I’m not terribly familiar with, but when   you like it you just like it.  Another bit I can remember of slam poetry I liked was the one done at the 2010 winter Olympics Opening Ceremonies in Vancouver, B.C.  It was done by Canadian’s Shane Koyczan, his poem being ‘We Are More’.  You can see it in the video below. (there are other ‘neater’ versions on Youtube, but for me, the whole Olympics experience is what makes it cool)

Well, I can’t really say why the Levi’s or Shane Koyczan’s poems hit me, but when you like something, you just like it.

Signing off

~Kate

Related articles

• Levi’s ‘Go Forth’ 2012 Campaign (helensuccess.wordpress.com)
• Slam Poetry – Because You’re Addicted to Ideas (wired.com)
• You’re gonna be GREAT, You’re gonna be GREat, You’re gonna be GReat; (lovsnmua.wordpress.com)
• “This is a pair of Levi’s” | Levi’s Go Forth 2012 Anthem Ad (great-ads.blogspot.com)
• Levi’s- Go Forth: Pretentious poetry with a capital P. (adland.tv)

I Come From

I come from the highlands

where the wind whistles and

blows through the sweet grass

I come from forests ancient and dark

where emerald moss pads the stoic

boulders and hidden streams gurgle and bubble

I come from the crashing ocean

salt spray and stinging mists

where soft sand and waves tickle your toes

I come from the mountains

where resinous pines and firs

are my incense and perfume

I come from the meadows at night

where you look up to see

millions of lights twinkling down

The stars are my friends

The trees whisper their kinship

The streams  tinkle my name

The ocean calls me home

My home is my family

safe and warm

where I can be me

But I come from. . .

I was reading Poemcrazy by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge and one section was on where I come from. Not actually come from, since that was the Bay Area, but where I felt I belonged.  I think that is a broad answer, where I’m from, since I feel like I’m from a lot of places. Or I just happen to like a lot of places.  I wonder if they are one and the same.

I hope you all enjoy. I spit this one out today while eating lunch and scribbling with my fountain pen in my journal.

Writing on

~Kate

Poetry Collections

Look at the pretty covers.

I just happened to be passing by my library the other day and out in front someone had left a couple boxes of books they donated to the Friends of the Library.  Well, I stopped to just peek and low and behold there were these six lovely poetry volumes.  I couldn’t resist and brought them home with me. (yes I will donate money to the Friends for them, but had I left them there, they wouldn’t have gotten to one of the book sales for at least a year).

I don’t have that many poetry books, and while I don’t make a habit of collecting them either, I just could not resist. Bronte, Whitman, Poe, Byron, are the four main single poets, then one on Erotic Poems, which are really just love poems (someone had fun with a tease by using ‘erotic’) and then lastly, Poems of Mourning.  There are more within the series, and I think I might just have to keep my eyes open for used copies of them because they are gorgeous.

You can see all the titles on these.

On the whole, I would probably prefer thicker volumes of some of these, but I can’t complain. The covers are lovely, and underneath the dust jackets the cloth binding in the rich hues of the dust jacket  make me want to clutch them tight and not let go. My copy of Persuasion is similar in fashion and I feel the same about it.

So far my favorite, after only flipping through them a bit and reading some, has been the poems by Bronte. Emily Bronte that is.  I never knew she wrote poetry.  Beautiful, rhyming poetry.  It’s gorgeous. Lovely, very Scott-esque.  (Sir Walter Scott)  I’m seriously looking forward to reading more. I carried it around with me as I did errands, not even opening the cover, but I just want to clutch it close. I can say that about very few poets.

So I am quite excited to have some poetry books added to my very full shelves.  My only other poetry books I have are Tennyson, Scott, Angelou, Dickinson, Frost, and some other more obscure authors. So this is exciting.

Signing off

~Kate

Cheeseburger Hunger

We made love in your big bed

All sprawled skin warm and entwined

And afterwards my head pillowed on your chest

I said I was starving

You laughed at me but grabbed your pants

I wore one of your loose shirts belted

Around my waist and kitten heels

You said I looked like a sexpot

I liked that and wanted to put up my hair

Like Bridget Bardo, but

You tugged me towards the door

We went to an all-night burger joint

Ordering juicy cheeseburgers, fries and

Frosty chocolate milkshakes

We laughed and munched slaking our hunger

You wiped a smear of ketchup off my lip

And when I licked it from your finger

Your eyes darkened with renewed hunger for something

Other than your burger and fries

I grinned at you but you knew

Knew that I still wanted you again

Our appetite for food was gone

I gave you a look

Suddenly our teasing game was done

You balled up the wrappers and paper napkins

Tossing them in the nearest trash can

Your keys were in the ignition

Before I could think or argue

Not that I wanted to

No, I wanted you just as much as before

And the car door slammed, your fingers

Gripping my hand as you flung open

The front door, barely making it

To your bed before a new hunger

Rose up to take the place of the need for food

The desire was now for skin and touch, lips and arms

And everything that was before.

 

 Okay, I was really in a mood last night and for some reason the thought of being hungry after being with someone struck me as ‘I HAVE TO WRITE THIS’.  So I did. 

Cheeseburgers were the focus after hearing about a barbecue-bacon-blue cheese burger with beer battered curly fries on an episode of Eureka and  a few days of not eating much more than toast, so I was hungry.  And yes, I had someone in mind when I wrote it, but I do hope you all enjoy.  Incredibly free verse here, and a bit more adult, but I had fun.  I suppose I could tweak it till forever, but other than a few line changes, some spelling corrections and a few other things, I like it. So I think I’ll keep it the way it is.  Course now I have to re-copy it down on paper since it does not match what I scribbled in my journal last night.

 Signing off

~Kate