Day 3: Messenger

Day 3: Poem Messenger
He scratched trees in sky
crossed them with branches and birds
a river underneath it all, with
a boat and two waves.

He scratched trees in sky
crossed them with branches and birds
a river underneath it all, with
a boat and two waves.

Sell one to Jones
58th street, green awning
tuck this inside.

He folded the river
in half.

And boy, all that news-
learn to read it.

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Prompt: Mz. Quickly’s 

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Day 2: Juiced. NapoWriMo

Normally, where the city breaths-
thick, forced thru concrete, rush
traffic and hurry
–anxiety
small layers too small to feel
building small armors all the same.

Today’s prompt- all that happened on this morning’s walk through the city, with puppy Chula.

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Normally, where the city breathes-
thick, forced through concrete, rush
traffic and hurry

anxiety

small layers too small to feel
building small armors all the same.

Today, the city breathes
something else.       First

the woman, clutching coffee
urban sounding in quick heeled steps
sees Chula’s floppy ears,
smiles
despite time and hum    and then

the installer, working against the clock
bends close to tell me…pain in the knee…sports, how
a diet of juice is the perfect medicine
grapefruit juice…all you need for lactic acid and stress.

This new gridded breath, confirmed when
uniform delivery man darts
down stairs to the street
almost slamming into us- sends Chula
to the curb

Ah! I’mSOsorry, are you OK!?
hand on my elbow, our eyes shocked wide
and locked, laughing with

    suddenness.

Tender is the city today
No time for armor
thirsty for

    grapefruit juice.

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Day 1: 30 Days-30 Poems NaPoWriMo & Jazz Month too!

April already?! The month to celebrate both Poetry & Jazz, they say. Here begins another wonderful challenge NaPoWriMo- 30 poems in 30 days. I’m happy to reconnect to a daily writing/posting habit again this year. I think I’ve been running about 17 poems/month in past years, with daily posting being my greatest challenge. So this year, I aim to do better; to post more often, shorter, and more immediate, less worked over bits. Because that is what it’s about, yes?- quantity and NOT perfection; leaving the critic in the dust.

April already?!  The month to celebrate both Poetry & Jazz, they say.  Awesome Possum!! 😉

On the jazz front- I  just finished a jazz and blues course at the JazzSchool, Berkeley- an intensive taught by musicians of the Montclair Women’s Big Band. Amazing teachers & inspiration from an all female crew of instructors!  How cool was that! It was a serious intensive, packed with classes for improv, ensemble, vocals, all instruments, and performance- with a culminating concert last Friday night. Whew!  Rewarding and exhausting both. I posted a whole photo album on FB here.  These are some of my favorite pics.

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jazz 2013

For poetry, I’m happy to reconnect to a daily writing/posting habit again this year. I think I’ve been running about 17 poems/month in past years, with daily posting being my greatest challenge.  So this year, I aim to do better; to post more often, shorter, and more immediate, less worked over bits. Because that is what it’s about, yes?- quantity and NOT perfection; leaving the critic in the dust. Just writing. Just poetry!  It’s posting from the road that’s tough for me…

I’m on Twitter now!  @TaraLindaMusic , & hope to use that as a tool for nano writing.

I will post a page of prompts soon- but so far, I’ve begun to warm up with my own 52/365 poem prompt, and I’ll be starting with prompts from life, the NaPoWriMo site, and the Sunday Whirl.  Post your prompts here so I can discover more!  Poets- leave your links so that I can drop by and enjoy your Muses too.

Poem 1:  Perpetual

Just words, she says
a stretch of meaning scrawled
across the sidewalk, over a curb
under a street, faint calls to an
underworld, to deviants, or raccoons
whoever trembles first.

What was lost in March is found
in April, curbside, nestled deep because nothing
dies when shared perpetually, he says- twirling
circles, eddies, gyres around us, out and back into
all those places a train might scour before midnight.

Change the Absconder, rolling and heaving,
winds past poppies and dandelions on its way to create
something better: era, master, poet, fuse-
syllabic truths growing straighter than weeds-
 

She calls to him
Just words, to die for.

Prompt: Wordle 100