#6: I Hope the Devil is a Dog

(Or three reasons to never stop barking)

The dog in the house down the street
barks incessantly, and we wonder if it is out of
loneliness since it begins when his owner leaves, like shouting to
fill space, loud enough to fill absence, and keep
yourself company.

Or maybe he his sounding fear, because anything can happen
in emptiness, so he barks in constant tempo to scare away
dread, to fill the house with the might of amplitude, loudness splattered
like paint in giant blasts across the walls.

Or perhaps it is all simple anger, a defiance to tear the house down
altogether, so that nothing stands between the dog and the neighbors, whose faces are knotting up grimaced as we speak. The dog must think it’s a
human kind of snarling.

Either way, the house is an amplifier, presenting his bark in
all directions, first at Loudness-8, Reverb-10 to the apartments next door,
and traveling down the overpass, leveling off to Loudness-7 before hitting
our house and the crossroads that turn it all up, projecting the bark in
two more directions.

I hope the devil is a dog, there, at the crossroads,
kindred kind to negotiate something fair between this maybe-lonely
animal and all these neighbors, pockets filled with anger coins,
ready to ransom a canine soul
for silence.

Vs. 1:   4/11/2018

Taralinda  2018

If it matters to anyone- my numbering system in my post titles now, doesn’t follow the NaPoWriMo prompts anymore, since I have been writing more, ironically. My goal is simply to post as many poems as possible this month; 30 poems in 30 days would be nice. 😉 That said, I did experiment with longer lines for once (Prompt #6), and there is a parallel of perspectives in this piece (Prompt #10).

And speaking of the length of a linebreak in a poem, I just realized in this poem post, that long lines are not supported in the formatting of this blog template; ergh! Although I don’t use them often, I detest being limited by force. Time to look for a new blog template. What are your favorite WordPress templates for writing poetry?

Thank you for reading!

recordstore
NaPoWriMo

Prompt 4: Archival Memory II. Poem

Archival Memory II

You bathe in forms I’ve never met

But if memory serves                           without the sugarcoat,
When you were in writer’s halls, singing villanelles, offering odes,
and cornering quatrains with your lacy sestina,

The marine lab held me sway, chambered in Nautilus pompilius,
casting nets deeper than darkness, her bioluminescent waves.

Come Spring, my algal mats were a riot of bubbling pigments
much the way cherry blossoms bloomed in your haiku.

And how can I hold it against you? The courage you held for two.
While I scribbled verses on graph paper,  you doodled lips on fish.

Archival dust made us both sneeze.

 

Tara Linda, c. 2018

NaPoWriMo Prompt #4: to write about an abstraction in a concrete way.  This poem is a rewrite of a poem from 7 years ago, about something very abstract: regret. And perhaps a bit of jealousy.  It’s one of those pieces that when I first wrote it, began to open a door  to a feeling I’d yet to articulate: that I became a scientist instead of a poet. And that somehow, a certain poet I knew was farther ahead and better equipped than I. Revisiting this poem now, this topic, was easier. I felt more like an observer than a participant, I could open the door even wider, filling in more specifics than before. I loved studying science. And poetry! And I have no regrets. I know now that regardless what my path has been, marine science enriched my life. And of course, studying poetry and music in non-traditional ways, has made the poet within stronger and more defiant than ever.  I can see now too, what a waste of time it is to compare ourselves to others. Don’t do it!!  Thankfully, our paths all differ wildly. We should celebrate this.

bathymetryAlaska4926

Return of Muse 887

Of course I left you
deep          in New Mexico
that endless drive         a sea
of  mesas

the San Juans just in       view
you stopped for      dinner in Gallup       fried tacos Sopapillas in honey those visions
the ones that follow into       dreams        portal
from a picture

I knew I would leave
well before      sunrise          before
you made that        unnatural
turn          due north, RR 371
at Thoreau.

Don’t be mad      there was no     sign
besides        only one can fit     down
the sipapu*            at once

     Tara Linda. 2016

*Hopi word for the small opening in a Kiva; opening between worlds.

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Heart – Filled

Two moons
and one solstice ago
his words came…

Heart-Filled

Two moons
and one solstice ago
his words came, woven in an Easterly
driven by frozen rain, unrelenting cold
they pushed West, gale force unyielding, sure
with 8 arms waving, hands cupped and overflowing
with nectar clear, light, soothing, sweet they pushed
head-on shadowed storms, unseen winds, inertia
up and over plains, mountains, heavy with mist,
each syllable, a ray of Sunlit compassion, multiplied hundreds more of itself~ traveled to the farthest coastal
cliffs, beyond bay and sea

Now the rain
Stillness
Now the jasmine
blooms at night
Taralinda © 2015
Thank you Mikial.

Jasmine0085

Offering

Awakening
is our first offering
praise…

Awakening
is our first offering
praise, an open eye taking in
first light, space, color ~
A stretch, body’s first gift of
movement, vibration, cells alighting,
muscles expand, remembering~ Gratitude.
Warm contentment, Freedom before thought
weightless presence, first breath,
Joy ~ our ultimate prayer.

TaraLinda c.p. 2014

flowerM5211

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