Join us every Monday evening for drinks at the Daily Kos community political poetry club. Drop by and speak your mind in rhyme or blank verse. Poetry is always welcome in the comments. Let’s use language to scream our passion to the world. Bongos, berets and turtle neck sweaters are optional. The keypad is mightier than the sword.
I sometimes live in a Beatrix Potter world, as I identify with being a small creature more than anything. Therefore, it is no surprise I may write from time to time from this point of view. This week I have included a varied sampling of lyric poems I have written over the past decade related to this subject.
Pile (2000)
At the Albuquerque flea market, searching for stuffed animals to paint, and overwhelmed by the multitudes of towering piles of dolls. Dolls. And more dolls.
Pile
Alone
at the top
of the heap
in the pale yellow light
of a relentless morning sun
did you crawl your way up
to the pinnacle of this refuse
or were you thrown here in abandon
and tossed into a tangle
of synthetic shiny tresses
landing lost and crumpled
barely balanced over
a multitude of strangers
lying on a blanket
set flat upon the ground
with the flies hovering
and buzzing
at the flea market
You were a baby doll
a doe-eyed dreamy doll
mama’s little pink and blue
lovey dovey sweetness doll
a honey doll, a bunny doll
gonna make a lot of money doll
you were simply somebody’s
sparkle of the heart doll
the most affectionate object
a velvet smooth forever doll
So, did you ride here in a carriage
pulled by the horsepower of steel
to this place, it isn’t empty
it is crowded with neglect
a cheap sale could be made here
if you were only few in number
there in twine and silver duct tape
wrapped around a box for shoes
remember silk, remember cotton
and other things you have forgotten
in this dirt-encrusted hillock
of molded hair and plastic limbs
some will pull them from the bodies
of your neighbors deep below you
exposing hollows in the shadows
on the blanket’s threadbare middle
Overnight
as the moon passes by
do you cry tap water tears?
where is the child
who once held you?
One pile too many
of baby baby baby dolls
myriad faces gazing
in every which way
you try to look up
and the people look over
and then they walk
away
©2000, Alexandria Levin
—
The Palmetto Bug Incident (2002)
My brother unintentionally brought us a little gift from South Florida. We had to capture it. Last thing wanted was for it to get loose and breed with the ubiquitous Albuquerque water beetles.
The Palmetto Bug Incident
I swear this was the devil
in miniature with wings
flies right towards you buzzing
it swoops and it careens
waxing insectly
a nightmare perfectly
silhouette on a lampshade
and never fade
Palmetto palmetto
from the sawgrass swamp
peninsula bug starring
in a macabre romp
an atomic cockroach
on steroids soaring
directly at you
Watch out!
It’s impossibly boring
ignoring this flying thing
when it takes wing
It’s a ping-pong run
to the laundry room closet
get a broom and clobber it
A fly swatter
for the uninvited squatter
on the wall until it falls
somewhere under the table
and now in a glass jar
because we are able
to throw it away
since tomorrow
is garbage day
©2002, Alexandria Levin
—
Little Mouse (2004)
Another true story, this one haunted me for days.
Little Mouse
Oh, little mouse
we’re so sorry
you weren’t supposed to die like that
you weren’t supposed to still be alive
you weren’t supposed to be caught like that
you weren’t supposed to come inside
For you there were
sweet wild strawberries
and tiny pinecone seeds
among other edible things
and overgrown roses with perfect thorns
your fragrant pink haven
from the cats on their rounds
and the circling hawks
You were supposed to stay outside
Oh, I don’t understand
what has happened to me
I’m half flipped over under
why can’t I leave?
I just want to go now
I’ve tried and I’ve tried
and I’m in so much pain
I’ve forgotten how to cry
I’m all twisted and torn
with my broken backside
something is fading
where am I?
Who is wrong?
Who is right?
Who lives and who dies?
Who gets to eat and who survives?
Another hawk circling
in a cerulean sky
three smaller birds attacking
from either side
circling and swooping
until someone declines
©2004, Alexandria Levin
—
Aubergine (2005)
Leave it to me to anthropomorphize leaves. An illustrated version of this poem is here:
http://www.alexandrialevin.com/...
Aubergine
Leaves fall
that's why they call it that
leaves fall like old paper cutouts
squirrels are snipping away
in the upper branches of the trees
sycamores, all knees and elbows
akimbo to oaks and maples
and the gingko's golden fans
cooling the air
just in time for fall
In the graveyard
historical ghosts
play host to children
shuffling ankle deep in leaves
loosely weaving a mesh
between the webs of old spiders
and the eroding stones
with their years fading away
The circling cycles
pirouettes and spirals
a twisting curve winding
up into the sky with the wind
and crumbling down into dust
the revolving earth
doing what it must
Leaves fall
when daylight diminishes
it is our time now, we know
we will surrender and go
we submit to the gravity
of this transient situation
and though we might softly meander
we will not leave quietly
instead we will shout with brilliance
in shades of ochre
amber
and aubergine
©2005, Alexandria Levin
—
Rock Dove Love (2006)
An almost true story. I’ve already been in the city way too long.
Rock Dove Love
Here he comes
that pigeon with the bell
around his neck
hanging on a ragged
piece of shoelace
Here they come
those pigeons with that stuff
they always strut
broadcasting their theme music
down the sidewalk
Possibly ranchero
maybe bossanova
here comes my baby
dancing up the gutter
There they go
pigeons sporting attitude
they're all puffed up
pecking at those donuts
and pizza crust
©2006, Alexandria Levin