Vultures
In the greyness
and drizzle of one despondent
dawn unstirred by harbingers
of sunbreak a vulture
perching high on broken
bones of a dead tree
nestled close to his
mate his smooth
bashed-in head, a pebble Vultures

In the greyness
and drizzle of one despondent
dawn unstirred by harbingers
of sunbreak a vulture
perching high on broken
bones of a dead tree
nestled close to his
mate his smooth
bashed-in head, a pebble
on a stem rooted in
a dump of gross
feathers, inclined affectionately
to hers. Yesterday they picked
the eyes of a swollen
corpse in a water-logged
trench and ate the
things in its bowel. Full
gorged they chose their roost
keeping the hollowed remnant
in easy range of cold
telescopic eyes...

Strange
indeed how love in other
ways so particular
will pick a corner
in that charnel-house
tidy it and coil up there, perhaps
even fall asleep - her face
turned to the wall!

...Thus the Commandant at Belsen
Camp going home for
the day with fumes of
human roast clinging
rebelliously to his hairy
nostrils will stop
at the wayside sweet-shop
and pick up a chocolate
for his tender offspring
waiting at home for Daddy's
return...

Praise bounteous
providence if you will
that grants even an ogre
a tiny glow-worm
tenderness encapsulated
in icy caverns of a cruel
heart or else despair
for in the very germ
of that kindred love is
lodged the perpetuity
of evil.

on a stem rooted in
a dump of gross
feathers, inclined affectionately
to hers. Yesterday they picked
the eyes of a swollen
corpse in a water-logged
trench and ate the
things in its bowel. Full
gorged they chose their roost
keeping the hollowed remnant
in easy range of cold
telescopic eyes...

Strange
indeed how love in other
ways so particular
will pick a corner
in that charnel-house
tidy it and coil up there, perhaps
even fall asleep - her face
turned to the wall!

...Thus the Commandant at Belsen
Camp going home for
the day with fumes of
human roast clinging
rebelliously to his hairy
nostrils will stop
at the wayside sweet-shop
and pick up a chocolate
for his tender offspring
waiting at home for Daddy's
return...

Praise bounteous
providence if you will
that grants even an ogre
a tiny glow-worm
tenderness encapsulated
in icy caverns of a cruel
heart or else despair
for in the very germ
of that kindred love is
lodged the perpetuity
of evil. 
-Chinua Achebe 

The poems grants a strong image into the head of the reader. The imagery however is very powerful and gruesome, the way in which the poet describes the vultures devouring a decomposing corpse. The poet then goes on to relate the animalistic nature of the vulture to the horrors that were committed by the nazi party in the era surrounding WWII and more specifically the commandant of belsen. The Images generated by this poem can generate multiple feelings, and conjure up a blend of the two very prominent images, Vultures and the Commandant. The way in which the poet shows that even the most seemingly normal people can harbor such animalistic nature that we all potentially harbor.

(one of the) Two Japanese Haiku

(one of the) Two Japanese Haiku

The lightning flashes!
And slashing through the darkness,
A night-heron’s screech.

A lightning gleam:
into darkness travels
 a night heron’s scream.

By: Matsuo Basho

Most haikus I’ve read are random and they don’t make sense. What caught my attention for this haiku was the imagery. His word choices depicts a  clear scene. I can picture a storm with a lightning bolt brightly “slashing” through a sky and a bird screeching with fright. This short poem describes a bigger scene.  

Where?

Where am I going, I don't really know,
Why must there be a place where someone should go?

Why must we rush, hurry, to be,
Calm down, be patient, but nobody sees.

I'd rather be spontaneous than any other way,
but hurry, hurry, hurry, that's how it is today.

Well I guess it's the way it's supposed to be,
But maybe, just maybe, somebody will see.


This poem is written by James Allman and was found on tripod.com

This poem has a really deep theme that resonated with me for awhile after first reading it. People go too fast through this world, always in a hurry, not noticing the small things. And after it's all said and done, it's the small things that make all the difference in life. Sometimes people just need to slow down, take a break, and appreciate what they have and the world that's around them.

Imagery: I can picture people with their head down, walking on a city street or through an airport. They're rushing to get to someplace that, in the long run, doesn't really matter. Then there's an older man or woman sitting on a bench, watching everyone walk by. Wiser and more experienced in life, they learned their lessons, and relax to see the small details that make life what it is.

Imagery is really what makes this poem what it is. Each line is a connection to a relate-able feeling that is found in everyday life. the burn you leave on my skin leaves a different fell though. Through these plausible and not references Emma Jane shows the intensity that is love.
Emma Jane.
http://www.creative-poems.com/poem.php?id=286027

Still want what I can't have

The smell of you floats on the air The promise of you in the way you tease The thought of you never far The dream of you was once real The nightmare now so true The burn you leave on my skin The taste of you on my lips The feel of your hands always there The tiny touchs that you still leave The broken words never there The sinful looks you throw my way The memories of you are slowly killing me The smell of you is more then enough to remind me of what I once had and can now never have again.   But I still want what I can't have.

Black Friday, the shopping poem

Black Friday, the shopping poem

John F. McCullagh

The people crowd the entrances 
at Malls all over town. 
To seize the choicest bargain deals, 
 They'd gladly knock you down. 
The retailers all hold their breath 
as shopping gets in gear. 
Will Santa fill his sleigh as hoped? 
 -or lay off more Reindeer? 
 There are plastic toys from China
colored with suspicious paint. 
Whip out your last credit card 
(-when you see the bills, you'll faint.) 
 "The children must have Christmas! " 
No request will be denied.
 Never mind your youngest child
 has just turned thirty five. 
Don't forget a gift for you 
Don't you deserve the best? 
 Shopping is such good therapy 
for the financially depressed

___________

     I found this poem on Google. Over break my father and I went Black Friday shopping at Wal-Mart. We do it every year and I still don't know when we will have enough TVs to stop going. After watching two idiots get arrested I could not believe some of the people. It still gets me every year how crazy people are. Needless to say, this poem caught my eye.

     The playful nature with Santa filling his sleigh, really being those obsessive parents feeling obligated to give their child everything the want, just embodies the essence of some Black Friday shoppers. The allusion to lead paint and China seemed quite interesting. So many people just buy and buy and buy, yet they do not realize what they are really doing. 

Most interesting to me, is the finish of the poem. The thought of still babying your children and risking your life to buy a middle aged son a gift is ridiculous. Additionally, the American attitude and lifestyle of spending money to relieve the guilt of spending money.

Wisdom, Pain, and Getting High

I wanted to choose a poem which represented something that happened during this past break from school.  Originally, I settled upon a poem about Thanksgiving and the end of Autumn, but as I rested on the couch, the day after having my teeth removed, I decided that a wisdom tooth poem would be more interesting, considering that it would talk about a universal experience of pain and being high on drugs.  To find this poem I literally Googled "poems about wisdom teeth removal", and this poem came up. 

I chose this poem because of the use of white space and how Pearson uses this blank area to break apart words into letters in order to give the sensation of confusion.  Through this technique, the author is able to show what a person goes through after having their teeth removed, especially at the end of the first stanza where the drugged subject passes out mid-thought.

Wisdom Teeth Musings - by Lauren Christina Pearson 

It's quiet in my house,
except for m o  v   i   n   g air.
Soft snoring from    distant rooms,
and bedspring creaking under
s i t n  weight.
  h f i g

My mouth is bruised and swollen,
from teeth ripped from gums.
But pain meds drift me far away,
from everything I know.

Though sleep does e-v-a-d-e me,
I am bothered not with that.
For some of the best WoNdErInGs
happen when you're stoned.

Tomorrow will bring more swelling,
more chocolate pudding, and bloody gauze. But at least for awhile, I don't
have to run around like everyone else trying to get by.

At least for a while, I don't have to look like a chicken with it's head cut--!

7 Quotes on Why Poetry Matters

Internet headlines are full of titles with numbers...

Please put together your own 7 quotes - on poetry - and Why Poetry Matters...

(Why seven? It's a lucky number.) 

Check out these great articles from BrainPickings.org:

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John Cleese on the 5 Factors to Make Your Life More Creative

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