Rain Drops

Rain Drops

by Monique Avard

Molecules of condensation

Fall to earth

Thrown down

From angry clouds.

Water twisting as it

Is propelled to the ground,

Pummeling the planet

Like irritated rockets

Of furry.

Each drop is heavy

With torment and acid;

Hopeful to fall upon

The evidence of children’s play.

Or another day,

Fat drops lazily descend

From fluffy, gray masses.

With no pressure,

The content drops drip.

Each twirls within itself

And falls like a tear,

Warm and slow.

It slides down the side of a tree,

No where specific in mind to go.

Then each drop shatters,

And are no more.

Out On The Street

Out On The Street

by Monique Avard

Out on the street; nowhere to go,

Never thought she’d be abandoned so.

She wishes she could afford a train,

But in this dark alley she’ll remain.

In despair, her head hangs low,

Soon to have a kid in tow.

She was labeled and kicked out of school: the hoe.

But from defending herself, she refrained.

Out on the street.

Every door closed: each slammed “no”.

If only she could let them know. . .

Maybe their scorn for her would wane.

People judge and ignore her pain.

The night grows dark and she’s alone

Out on the street.

Memory

Memory

By Monique Avard

A found poem from Understanding Psychology 8^th Edition by Robert S. Feldman pg 219-221

You are trivial

And winning the game.

Comes down to one question,

You rack your brain.

Fundamental processes come into play,

Unable to recall,

Failure to retain.

A momentary flash of lightening,

A twig snapping,

The sting of a pinprick,

Echoic –

Less than a second.

Sensory, sensory, sensory.

Presentation, pattern, progressively,

This decline

Could not be recalled at all –

Less than a second.

A snapshot

Destroyed –

And replaced with a new one.

FALLING

FALLING

 by Monique Avard

Take one step off the giant cliff in front of you,

descend, let your stomach come up

into your throat, trust the air

around you, don’t be afraid

its only falling, you don’t

have to worry about

what will happen

the moment

your body

hits the

ground.

China Doll

By Monique Avard

Sitting on a shelf

Legs dangling off the side

Sand pouring

O

U

T

 from a hole in the sole.

Empty.

Just a fragile shell,

Just porcelain.

Dry.

Thin strands of hair splitting.

Paint flaking

                        O

F

F

                                                            from a ghostly complexion.

Lonely.

Just a brittle exterior,

Just porcelain.

Just porcelain

A touch tips it.

Its delicate balance broken,

It shatters upon the ground.

Just pieces.

Morning Bird

Morning Bird  by Monique Avard

The soft sway of a branch bending

Beneath the feet of a sparrow,

Sounding the morning

With its tweeting

A shrill whistle.

Another bird

Chirp chirp chirping.

The sun rises to their tune,

Flies away

And the branches swoon

From the wind that whoosh

At the flap of their wings.

And the bird sings

As it passes overhead,

Its song soothing, a noise

Of natures lyrics sung

In sweet sweeing.

"This is Just to Say" by William Carlos Williams

This is Just to Say

William Carlos Williams

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold

"The Pool Players" By Gwendolyn Brooks

The Pool Players

            Seven At the Golden Shovel

By Gwendolyn Brooks

We real coo. We

Left school. We

Lurk late. We

Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We

Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We

Die soon.

"Metaphors" by Sylvia Plath

Metaphors

By Sylvia Plath

I’m a riddle in nine syllables,

An elephant, a ponderous house,

A melon strolling on two tendrils.

O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!

This loaf’s big with its yeasty rising.

Money’s new-minted in this fat purse.

I’m a means, a stage, a cow in calf.

I’ve eaten a bag of green apples,

Board the train there’s no getting off.

"Mantra" By Ruth Stone

Mantra

By Ruth Stone

When I am sad

I sing, remembering

the redwing blackbird’s clack.

Then I want no thing

except to turn time back

to what I had

before love made me sad.

When I forget to weep,

I hear the peeping tree toads

creeping up the bark.

Love lies asleep

and dreams that everything

is in its golden net;

and I am caught there, too,

when I forget.

"If You Come Softly" By Audre Lorde (1934-1992)

If You Come Softly

Audre Lorde (1934-1992)

If you come as softly

As the wind within the trees

You may hear what I hear

See what sorrow sees.

If you come as lightly

As threading dew

I will take you gladly

Nor ask more of you.

You may sit beside me

Silent as a breath

Only those who stay dead

Shall remember death.

As if you come I will be silent

Nor speak harsh words to you.

I will not ask you why now.

Or how, or what you do.

We shall sit here, softly

Beneath two different years

And the rich between us

Shall drink our tears.

"Did I miss Anything" By Tom Wayman

By Tom Wayman

Nothing. When we realized you weren’t here

We sat with our hands folded on our desks

In silence, for the full two hours

           

            Everything. I gave an exam worth

            40 percent of the grade for this term

            And assigned some reading due today

            On which I’m about to hand out a quiz

            Worth 50 percent

Nothing. None of the content of this course

Has any value or meaning

Take as many days off as you like:

Any activities we undertake as a class

I assure you will not matter to you or me

And are without purpose

            Everything. A few minutes after we began last time

            A shaft of light suddenly descended and an angel

            Or other heavenly being appeared

            And revealed to us what each woman or man must do

            To attain divine wisdom in this life and

            The hereafter

            This is the last time the class will meet

            Before we disperse to bring the good news to all people

                  On earth.

Nothing. When you are not present

How could something significant occur?

            Everything. Contained in this classroom

            Is a microcosm of human experience

            Assembled for you to query and examine and ponder

            This is not the only place such an opportunity has been

                        Gathered

            But it was one place

           

            And you weren’t there.

August by Mary Oliver

By Mary Oliver

When the blackberries hang

swollen in the woods, in the brambles

nobody owns, I spend

all day among the high

branches, reaching

my ripped arms, thinking

of nothing, cramming

the black honey of summer

into my mouth; all day my body

accepts what it is. In the dark

creeks that run by there is

this think paw of my life darting among

the black bells, the leaves; there is

this happy tongue

“Gee You’re So Beautiful That It’s Starting to Rain” By Richard Brautigan

By Richard Brautigan

Oh, Marcia,

I want your long blonde beauty

To be taught in high school,

So kids will learn that God

Lives like music in the skin

And sounds like a sunshine harpsichord.

I want high school report cards

            To look like this:

Playing with Gentle Glass Things

     A

Computer Magic

     A

Writing Letters to Those You Love

     A

Finding out about Fish

     A

Marcia’s Long Blonde Beauty

      A+!

Your Radiant Beauty

Imitation of “Gee You’re So Beautiful That It’s Starting to Rain” By Richard Brautigan

Oh Marcia,

Your long blond hair

Shines like the noontime sun.

It flows

like a corn silk wave

While you walk down the halls at school.

Kids try

To absorb your beauty,

Your presence like a lesson in aesthetics.

You float

Through the building

Like a goddess; grades are irrelevant.

“Ikebana Boat” (to be revised)

 ((This is an Ekphrasis based on the painting below))

Brightly colored swirls

Of candy fashioned glass

Are dancing in the boundaries

Of a ship floating in black.

The black creates an ocean;

A sea within a sky,

A starless night of outer space,

No moon will it pass by.

Life explodes within its walls,

A celebration stretching out.

Its tendrils grasping at the light

And glistening throughout.

The boat of many colors

Glides through eternal night.

Whimsy captivating with

red, yellow, blue and white

"Ikebana Boat" by Chihuly

I Don’t Know You’re Name (to Be Revised)

I’m here to have fun.

I don’t know you’re name.

I’m glad you’re here.

Do you wanna go upstairs?

I don’t know your name.

Have you done this before?

Do you wanna go upstairs?

I’m not sure how many I’ve had.

You’ve definitely done this before.

The music’s getting pretty loud.

I don’t know how many I’ve had.

I want you, but I’m scared.

The music’s getting pretty loud.

I’m really glad you’re here.

I want you, but I’m scared.

But I’m here to have fun.

Get off (a found poem)

A wise, wobbling, albino queen
envelopes bobbling clod,
a cannibalized runway
ultimately, of course.
But since the man
break the rules today,
like the wonky skin
stuck in the tape that holds together.
Get off!
Floating,
the flow.
For the rest, they sink,
eager to fly away.

Memory (A found poem)

You are trivial
and winning the game.
Comes down to one question,
you rack your brain.
Fundamental processes come into play,
unable to recall,
unable to retain.

A momentary flash of lightening,
a twig snapping,
the sting of a pinprick,
echoic --
less than a second.

Sensory, sensory, sensory.

Presentation, pattern, progressively,
this decline
could not be recalled at all --
less than a second.

A snapshot
destroyed and replaced
with a new one.

Haiku #5

My shadow vibrates,
against stationary earth,
shakes with energy. --

Dear Clarence

Dear Clarence,
I always wondered how
with such a pretty name
you're not a figment of my life.
You know how I like to
collect pretty things:
bunnies, buttons. . .
people with cool names.
Alas, I've never met a Clarence,
Goodnight.

ill

My skin is pale
white like milk
translucent like parchment.

My veins and bruises
a vibrant blue
spotting and streaking my arms and legs.

My flesh is soft
bloated and bulging
the puffiness of illness.

My eyes sink into deep holes
dark circles and swollen lids
my cheeks crimson with fever against a chalky complexion.

Haiku #4

Please don't disappear
for when I open my eyes
please still be right here. --

Haiku #3

Life proves to be short
under the sky it seems plain
then small things change. --

Haiku #2

I am on a boat,
floating and drifting in space,
and you kiss my face. --

Haiku #1

Lying in the grass,
a bug buzzes near my head,
I wait till it leaves. --

Paper dolls

If no one cares
while I exist
why should the care
if i simply ceased.
Like paper dolls
blowing in the wind
infront of you
one moment
and blown away from you
the next
so why would it be
such a crime
to simply stop
blowing
in the
wind?

And If You Care

I have a puzzle piece
inside my shoe.
And I trample it
when I walk to you.
I put a flower in my hair
because I knew the wind
would find it there.
The sun and sky will make us free.
If you wait
and let things be
chances are
the elfs will come to play
and if you care
with you I'll stay.

Bird Song

(to be edited)

The soft sway of a branch bending beneath
the feet of a sparrow sounding the morning
with its tweeting, a shrill whistle of another
bird's chirp chirp chirping.

The sun rises to their tune, fly away and
the branches swoon from the wind that
wines at the flap of their wing.

And the bird sing as it passes overhead, its
song soothing, a noise of nature's lyrics sung
in sweet sweeing.

Broken Shoe

The leather sole
flaps like an open wound
water seeps in, cold
abuses the exposed fles
making the walk
uncomfortable

The padded interior
has worn now
thin and hard
gnawing at one's sanity
with every step
chaffing

Sometimes the emptiness
seems repairable
temporary patches try to restore the tears
but wear and fall apart
deficient


tattered laces snag
on everything like a noose
eyelets fall out and the shoe tears more
and sits stale from mildew
dejected

Unbearable emptiness
resonates
like the soggy echo
of a step taken in a
broken shoe.