Sunday, August 5, 2012

July poems

I wrote ten poems in July, most of which were no good, but there were a few okay ones. This first one I wrote at my job, which I really like most of the time, but I cannot STAND being in the quilt shop.

The air conditioner hums
its song of coolness and
the fabric cutter shrieks
it's indignation at my awful skills
and the rest of the world is silent
I'm alone in the shop
and for all I do I might as well
be standing still

This next one I just find funny (the fact that I wrote it, how very dramatic and ridiculous it is, and how nervous I am to post it).

I barely said a word to you
or looked at you, except of course
to watch your fingers on the keys
your shoulders move, your head tilting.
Before that you had just smiled
at me for one moment, your hand
lightly resting on my elbow
as you went past me and onstage.
I stared at you the whole time that
you played, marveling at the sound
and your shoulders, and then I could
not think of anything to say.

And the last one is all over the place, so does it make sense to anyone else?

Flipping through these pages is
the closest I've gotten to time traveling
each poem-journal is a bit of me
impressed and imprinted on the page,
ready to spring to life and show me
who I was then, how different
and how exactly the same
So many of them, if pictures,
would find me in this same exact spot
trying to sort my brain so I can
go to sleep, my eyes on the clock
The only thing that changes is
the words I put down
the worries all stay
and having the pieces of me
in a pile like this just wafting with
emotions and angst
makes me realize
I think that all my poems, and me
could be summed up with
I don't even know.

And despite how rather unhappy those three poems are, I had a great July! This summer has been really fun. Hopefully I'll start posting more often, I was tagged by Katie ages ago so that will be my next one!


  1. What's the quilt shop? And, who is the person you pass by at the piano?

  2. At the bed and breakfast they have this little shop where they sell quilts and material and things :)

    And the person in the second poem is someone from the piano festival.