Blog Every Day April

YA author Maureen Johnson has declared this month to be Blog Every Day April (BEDA - on Twitter search #BEDA). So in addition to it being Poetry Month, it's apparently blogging month.

Any other writing demands you got, folks???

I'm in the last week of my class, trying to churn out pages, and now I'm supposed to blog every day and write a poem every day too? Can you, ya know, spread this shit out a little for me?

Yet lo, see how I have blogged today, April 1? Perhaps I shall be able to do this BEDA thing.

Perhaps not. No promises.

In the spirit of all this, here's a stab at a poem for today.

Running down Hollywood Boulevard at sunset

Plane contrail a white arrow in dusty blue sky
backlit palms
Elvis and Marilyn arm in arm
three musicians, pierced, blue hair, use the crosswalk
carrying a guitar, a trumpet, and a bass.
A woman tends white roses in the Wattles gardens
while rats rustle in drifts of leaves
beneath the avocado trees.

Breath comes hard, I limp
past an open case of beer on the sidewalk
and stop. Inside, bottles beer.
A few feet away a dog owner
has neglected to pick up after an elephant dog.

No one but me
and the old Russian ladies
leaning on each other down the block.

Sweat trickles down my back. A sign
on the telephone pole reads only:
Young Man in need of Living Situation.
All the phone numbers have been torn off.

I feel the beer.
It's cold.
But I run on.

Poem - Haiku

YAY! Today's poem prompt is to write a haiku.

Robert Lee Brewer's blog entry today is a wealth of info on the haiku, a poetic form I thought I knew. I don't want to steal from him, but here's the gist:

1. Haikus are 17 sounds long, not 17 syllables. Entire poem is three lines long.
2. The 5-7-5 syllable line scheme is not a hard and fast rule. Just make the first and third lines shorter than the middle.
3. Haikus do not have titles.
4. Haikus include a word to indicate a season. So "petal" might indicate spring.
5. Haikus describe nature, with an emphasis on description, not metaphor. No rhyming.

Well! It's a bit more complicated than I thought. My high school pal Chris's famous haiku comes to mind:

Little cockaroach.
Bam bam bam bam bam bam bam
I missed you each time.

There's no word to indicate a season, but in Hawaii, where Chris and I both grew up, there are no seasons. Cockroach is not spelled cockaroach and thus should be two syllables, not three. But in Hawaii, the word is pronounced cock-a-roach by locals. And maybe "missed" is two sounds, not one... miss-d.

But this haiku is genius. Let's be honest. It's hilarious and turns beautifully on that last line, as the best haikus do.

But enough stalling! To work! Prepare all month for hastily written poems...

Rain plops on green hills
Sunshine slants across wet leaves
Cars ignore rainbow

Poem - The Dentist

From Robert Lee Brewer's blog, here's the prompt for today's poem:

Put yourself in someone (or something) else's skin and write a poem about the experience. Who (or what) ever you become, please make that the title of the poem. If you're Buddy Holly, your poem should be called "Buddy Holly." If you're the Bates Motel, your poem should be called "Bates Motel." And so on.

I have to go to the dentist later this afternoon and get some major drilling done. Wish me luck! My dentist is a nice woman, but I nonetheless hate dentists generally. What better skin to step into?

The Dentist

When I glance up from the drill
I see the iris of his eye
contracting.

As blue as the scrubs
my hygenists wear
but with a pinpoint
a black hole.

a falling into darkness
a window to nowhere
a shrill whine
the scent of burning tooth

I squint despite the protective eyewear
as dust from the molar
coats his tongue.

the back of a throat is also black
unknowable
Up into the brain
Down into the heart

But the tooth lies beneath my fingertips.
I've made it white