About the site: This blog started as a place to house poems, favorites and original poems. Towards the end of ModPo 1, I added a blogroll of blogs showcasing poetic works by ModPo students and friends. Now, at the end of ModPo 2, we continue this tradition. We hope it provides a useful place for repose, reflection and reading. Hope you enjoy your visit here and look forward to seeing you again. New poems, links and blogs are constantly being added and updated.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
Songwriting Week Three
Songwriting Week Three assignment
Writing songs can be a chore
when all your love is lost, forsaken;
the rhyming spirit comes, then goes,
then from your daydreams you awaken.
You spend your time in vain
trying to write some verse of substance:
these songs won’t soothe your pain.
The rhythm flows, a new creation
distilled from timelessness and void
presents itself and seeks relation
to a world that’s paranoid.
You spend your time in vain
trying to write some verse of substance:
these songs won’t soothe your pain.
And so, you see, it is so useless,
and all your time is spent in vain
trying to write some verse of substance:
these words you write won’t soothe your pain.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Morning Walk Moonset
My Songwriting class week two assignment
The full
moon was setting
over the
Potomac River
as I crossed
Memorial Bridge
into
Virginia
on my
morning walk
She said,
"what'cha doing baby,
walking
across that bridge?"
"Just
chillin," I replied.
She said,
"Why don't cha
come here
baby,
chill in my
arms?"
NPR was
banging my eardrums
a not so
subtle attempt to
drown out my
own thoughts
my denials
turned into outrage
my anger
morphing into depression
She said,
"what'cha doing baby,
walking
across that bridge?"
"just
chillin," I responded.
She said,
"Why don't cha
come here
baby,
chill in my
arms?"
Monday, March 18, 2013
Another Blues Song (for banjo, harmonica and fiddle)
My love for
you has set my soul on fire
my love for
you consumes my every thought
my love for
you has forced me to conspire
against us
just to put
this fire out
Chorus
Remembering
the good old times
And bad new
times
And smiles
and blues
And
rendezvous with you
My love for
you is burning me to ashes
my love for
you is tearing me apart
my love for
you is eating all my stashes
and breaking
up
my busted
broken heart
Chorus
Remembering
the good old times
And bad new
times
And smiles
and blues
And
rendezvous with you
My love for
you is making me play hardball
my love for
you is making me unkind
my love for
you is making me play hardball
I'm going
for
a homerun in
my mind.
Chorus
Remembering
the good old times
And bad new
times
And smiles
and blues
And
rendezvous with you
Remembering
the good old times
And bad new
times
And smiles
and blues
And
rendezvous with you
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Spring Love
This is an experiment in a songwriting class, a composite of two previously written poems about the same topic, spring love. Note the repetition of pre-chorus and chorus, and the sudden appearance of a bridge towards the end. This song is looking for a MELODY. Any takers out there?
Spring love,
you'll see,
was never
meant to last.
But fate and
chance
have blessed
us
to taste its
incandescence -
Our paths
may never cross again
as in this
random moment,
our lips may
never meet,
complete,
again,
and spring for us, may
never reappear -
I tremble at
the thought of touching you,
I stumble,
as we touch,
as our lips
meet,
As our
heartbeats synchronize.
This word is
all that I possess to share,
and all is
all my fragile soul can bear.
Spring love,
you see,
was never
meant to last:
Its budding
branches
tempt us,
with fruit that's bittersweet -
I tremble at
the thought of touching you:
I fear your
petals may unfold
too soon,
and, falling
to the
ground, disintegrate.
This word is
all that I possess to share,
and all is
all my fragile soul can bear.
Spring love
intoxicates us:
spirits
fuse,
revealing in each
other secret
worlds.
I tremble at
the thought of touching you,
I stumble,
as we touch,
as our lips
meet,
As our
heartbeats synchronize.
This word is
all that I possess to share,
and all is
all my fragile soul can bear.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Invitation
“I knew too that through them I knew too that he was though, I knew too that he threw them. I knew too that they were through, I knew too I knew too, I knew I knew them.”
“If you can see why she feel that she kneels if you can see why he knows that he shows what he bestows, if you can see why they share what they share, need we question that there is no doubt that by this time if they had intended to come they would have sent some note of such intention.”
"Many others did go and there was a sacrifice, of what shall we, a sheep, a hen, a cock, a village, a ruin, and all that and then that having been blessed let us bless it.”
Gertrude Stein’s Idem the Same – Let Us Describe
The Queen’s Henchmen
request the pleasure of your company
at a Lynching – to be held
at 23rd and C Streets NW
on Tuesday, December 18, 2012 -
just past sunset.
Dress: Formal, Masks and Hoods -
The four being lynched
Must never know the identities
Of their executioners, or what/
Whose sin required their sacrifice.
A blood sacrifice –
To divert the hounds -
To appease the gods -
To cleanse our filth and
Satisfy our guilty consciences.
Arrive promptly at sunset –
Injustice will be swift.
There will be no trial,
No review of evidence,
No due process, and no
Accountability.
Dress warmly -
A chilling effect will instantly
Envelop Foggy Bottom.
Extrajudicial.
Total impunity.
A kangaroo court in
A banana republic.
B.Y.O.B.
Refreshments will not be served
Because of the continuing resolution.
And the ones being lynched?
Who cares? They are pawns in a game.
Our game. All suckers, all fools,
All knaves who volunteered to serve -
Us. And the truth? The truth?
What difference at this point does it make?
In case of inclement weather,
Or the Queen’s incapacitation,
Her Henchmen will carry out this lynching -
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