Nominations for Poems Posted in April

Moll Arundel
Joined: October 29th, 2017, 8:13 pm

April 16th, 2018, 6:52 pm #21

Jude's The Journey

We arrive late and in the rain and are forced to prowl slowly up and down dark streets, u-turning against one-ways, up one alley down another. She sits silently tense but I keep my chatter going, expressing each next move a few seconds in advance. Explaining, joking. I'm going to try a right turn again, but this time I'll be sure to turn left before the one-way starts. I turn right and she opens her phone for the hundredth time, types madly, squirms on the car seat, closes the phone. The sudden disappearing glow of it makes our little capsule even darker than before.

    We rocked and the stars
        were chips of ice. Her lungs cleared.
       One breath and one breath.

Joined: January 8th, 2015, 3:05 pm

April 17th, 2018, 2:50 pm #22

Billy's poem

Another Station 

A knee
is all I ask.
Two would be better

but a knee will do.
A floor.
It doesn't have to be marble.

Dirt will do.
A few rocks 
to grind a knee on

but that might be 
too much
to ask.

Joined: November 6th, 2007, 11:17 am

April 18th, 2018, 10:04 pm #23

Thanks, Chris!  I'm honored with this nom and your "holy cow."
Here's my current revision, Toni.  :)  Thanks.

la femme sans abri      (the homeless woman)

      after Edward Hopper's Steps in Paris, 1906

in an end of life lucidity (or perhaps she could
see it was a fine day for most everyone living),
she cast off her coat, freed grubby gray braids
from a battered hat, ran to the top of the steps
shook her head then looked to the sky as if

to say life, any life, is a hell of a lot
more plentiful than I've ever realized. as if
to say take this park, these people, poor
and rich here on this grass, they share food,
talk, love each other, and the many dogs,
how they adore their masters, follow them,

sleep by their beds. as if to say, life speeds
over us with more than our sentience
and judgment can take in. as if to say consider
my little bag here; bread, cheese, a bit
of chocolate. and as always some kind soul

will allow her to sleep on their porch, warm
a shawl for her tonight. as if to say there is
far more to any experience or relationship
than we are able to grasp. we're all here now
for some larger reason, as if we need to be.
Last edited by rosered17 on April 30th, 2018, 7:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Joined: April 1st, 2012, 4:26 pm

April 25th, 2018, 12:01 pm #24

I Don’t Live in New York City


Joined: November 28th, 2014, 9:40 am

April 25th, 2018, 1:14 pm #25

Christine's "Waking Up In The Late April Rain" 

is hardly waking up at all except your dreams
scatter and roll away like pebbles on a dry
dirt road. Is hardly waking up at all except

the neighbor’s yard is acid green under the
smokey sky and pocked with buttercups.
Face it: someone three years old and female

is drumming her heels on her bedroom floor
without her shirt on and laughing, over on
the other side of the river.  What is this wild

beast? says her father. The black water snake
in your creek has caught a catfish and will
certainly eat it alive, just as he did for your 

husband’s camera, last spring. (And so we see—
nature is disgusting, said your ex-husband
with whom you are miraculously still friends,

and then both your husbands laughed.) You 
hate looking at the picture of the snake and 
catfish, still, but face it: this cold rain’s alive

with miracles, shivering and cheerful. What is 
this wild beast? The scent of wet trees and rocks, 
morning dim and present, all come round again.

Joined: January 8th, 2015, 3:05 pm

April 27th, 2018, 1:42 am #26

I nominate Mignon's "On Nights When You Feel Unchosen"....

We can't keep them, theses words and days
that flutter. Gather them. Keep them in a jar,
their lost freedom indescribable yet inevitable

as the flapping slows. There are always choices,
not all, however, lead to hard-earned rainbows.
Relish them, escaped words, released wings.

Joined: August 21st, 2017, 10:33 am

April 29th, 2018, 10:50 am #27

John's Diary Entry

This morning during walking meditation
I used my grandfather's feet, moving them
inside his strap-up boots.
So beautiful in the sunlight as I walked
slowly around the building.
I was lucky to have his boots.
They must have been lost,
he only took them off
to free his weary feet before sleep
as he sat on the edge of the metal-frame bed
and used his one hand to untie the leather strings.
He lost his left arm to a cotton gin in 1919
and thought nothing of it.
He wasn't proud.
This was how it was after that day.
He had one less arm just as
the soldiers were home from Europe.
He drank the liquor he made himself.
At times I'd borrow his tractor keys
from the hook beside the stove
and search the overrun fields
when he had been gone too long.
As he grew older we moved in,
it was said to take care of him
though we had nowhere else to go.
My sister complained day and night
there was no phone and she couldn't bear it.
I thought this morning, wearing those boots,
using those feet,
of when I was a boy and learned
we all lived on an Earth spinning in space.
I never wanted to go outside again.
He was the only one who looked me
in the eye and understood.
No consolation offered, no ridicule,
no agreement, only a look
and a nod of his tobacco-stained face.

Joined: August 30th, 2017, 11:32 am

April 29th, 2018, 7:44 pm #28

Thank you, Greta

Joined: May 3rd, 2006, 5:58 am

May 1st, 2018, 1:57 pm #29

Thanks everyone for your nominations. This thread is now closed, and we'll be choosing three for the IBPC. It's possible we'll let the ones not chosen move over to our May nomination thread. Will discuss with Toni when she returns from France!

Joined: November 28th, 2014, 9:40 am

May 1st, 2018, 9:25 pm #30

I am honored, of course, to have poems nominated for IBPC. However, I am not ready to send them out into the world. So please withdraw my poems from consideration, if it isn't too late. Thanks