tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56497702011-04-21T12:18:41.287-07:00Time to start writing again.Gwennynoreply@blogger.comBlogger81100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649770.post-51370818343271988072006-11-13T09:32:00.000-08:002006-11-13T09:35:18.053-08:00

past novembersdampleafprintsfaded stainson thesidewalk of my memory

Gwennynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649770.post-19184874229571588162006-08-28T23:22:00.000-07:002006-08-28T23:30:45.985-07:00

Old poemsWas cleaning off my desk and found the poor old poetry journal I kept from from around 1978 to 1989. It's in really bad shape. So I'm going to try to harvest as much as I can. To Rachel (1989)Just you and me.You are unhappy.We rock.I fend of your crieswith an endless refrain:"Hushabye, don't you cryGo to sleep my little baby"desperate to comfort you.Finally you succumb to sleep,

Gwennynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649770.post-1145970111677330122006-04-25T05:55:00.000-07:002006-04-25T06:03:21.006-07:00

I recently posted this in Extreme Honesty, a tribe on Tribe.net, and basically was told that no one understood it. So I'm posting it here. If anyone runs across this and can understand it, let me know.Untitled(taking suggestions)On, off On, off On, off. . .In the ripening wheatThe fireflies flashTheir coded, courtship calls.On, off On, off On, off. . .In the corn stubbleGenetic memory

Gwennynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649770.post-1061225596830526962003-08-18T09:53:00.000-07:002003-08-18T09:53:16.893-07:00

Ah, back to the old grind. ::grin:: Cassie reminded me this morning that I owed her an assignment. She's right. Too many irons in the fire, that's me. But never fear, I decided to give it a shot this morning. So I went out on the patio with my coffee and some homemade potato salad to peruse the list of position assignments and opted to do "write in a strict form". Which is kind of a cop-out

Gwennynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649770.post-1060372770900241102003-08-08T12:59:00.000-07:002003-08-08T12:59:30.853-07:00

Okay, final revision. Carrot Cake^btw, this is my assignment for today nothing rhymes with orange but things do rhyme with carrot not that it matters as carat is just about a small enough measure to quantify the significance of my words

Gwennynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649770.post-1060118178828255572003-08-05T14:16:00.000-07:002003-08-05T14:16:18.903-07:00

I ran that last poem past my husband and he failed to catch the subtle nuances. ::sigh:: Which leaves me fearing that no one will. He suggested the following improvement. ^btw, this is my assignment for today nothing rhymes with orange but things do rhyme with carrot not that it matters as carat is just about a small enough measure to quantify the significance of my words

Gwennynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649770.post-1060116725773924162003-08-05T13:52:00.000-07:002003-08-05T13:52:05.680-07:00

Okay, for my first assignment, given to me by the fabulous Cassie, I offer this poem. Assignment: Pick a word or phrase at random, let mind play freely around it until a few ideas have come up, then seize on one and begin to write. Try this with a non- connotative word, like "so" etc. (From Bernadette Mayer's Writing Experiments) nothing rhymes with orange but things do rhyme with carrot not

Gwennynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5649770.post-1060115988604249282003-08-05T13:39:00.000-07:002003-08-05T13:39:48.566-07:00

Really truly, it's time to start writing again. Too long have I allowed other concerns, other pasttimes, take precedence. So I will start here with the first poem I have written lately. Yesterday, I believe. The desert barren, bleak with furtive stirrings of imaginings The rain gentle, nourishing makes seeds long dormant swell I bloom

Gwennynoreply@blogger.com