It is Difficult

 As I’ve said before, I enjoy structure in my pleasure writing – haikus, sonnets, whatever – I find them more fun for the challenge of the structure that is necessary.

I also create poems out of spam, lovingly called my Spam Haikus, which is pretty self-explanatory. Here is something a little different – this one started as a haiku, but there were so many cool words that I wanted to incorporate that I had to make it longer, so it’s more like my other versions of spam haikus.

I do this because I enjoy it, and it gives me a little mental exercise that is lacking in my day-to-day work life. It’s nice to get out and stretch every now and again, isn’t it?

It is difficult –
Your desires are vivid,
Little and ambitious.

Your usual delight
is juicy and simple –
Happy to use
a mass of fact for relaxation.

Better off saying “no”,
Sparing time and dreams
that can require
urgent and difficult
thinking.

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The Best Way to Change

I look through my spam inbox frequently, which has resulted in Spam Haikus, a series of haiku poems using only words found in spam emails. It’s challenging and wonderful and makes me feel creative while I sit in a cubicle and stare at HTML text.

But since starting a blog, I’ve come across a new kind of spam. You all know the kind; comments that say things like

spam

and

spam

Well, some of these are strangely lovely, and I’ve decided to use their words (combined throughout the weeks) as part of a poem. All I’ve added is a bit of punctuation, and that’s more for my own sanity than anything else.

Here is is.

wishing for blogging
is not merely for safekeeping –
Luck is more advanced than search engines.

Money and freedom is the best way to change
what is so perfect about modern-day democracy
as well as the marketplace of ideas.

And irrespective,
Your perspective… is the best way to change.
i think it will be helpful.

this method climbs into your current kidney
inflicting indication within just a number –
a fastidious one.

Shiny
really does understand gentle generating looks
Nevertheless, confused.

As strange as it is, I’m awfully fond of this. Although, I sincerely believe that it can be summed up in the last line.

 

Eerily Human

I find it eerily human,
the way a motionless squirrel
lies in the road:
Hips splayed,
arm thrown out,
fingers reaching for the haven of a branch.

No, I'm not going to have a picture of a dead squirrel. Here's a picture of a road in Niagara Falls. You can still see the falls a bit in the background, even though it was frozen.

No, I’m not going to have a picture of a dead squirrel – I’m not heartless. Here’s a picture of a road in Niagara Falls.

Updated: Just after I posted this poem, I had the following conversation with my man-friend:

Sometimes, he's ridiculous.

Sometimes, he’s ridiculous.

The Obscured Human

The obscured human,
Fearing my God, will benefit –
That interested trust.

George

The Falls

At the beginning of April, I happened upon this post from 20 Lines A Day, where people were encouraged not to write a new poem every day for the entirety of April, as many people do to celebrate National Poetry Month, but to write one poem throughout the month, constantly editing and revising it each day.

Challenge accepted.

Here is the resulting poem, begun after a trip with my man-friend to Niagara Falls.

We laughed through our noses
at the aye’s and long O’s
of the smiling natives
that watched us as we walked.

Connected by the handfalls
or waist
or hip
we walked,
covering miles
and kilometers
of road and park and sidewalk.

Wrapped up in you
and a sweatshirt
I let the sunshine
and the mist of the falls
cover my face and I smiled.

I smiled at you.
Not up, but out,
the way the moon smiles
when the sunlight reaches her.

The mist kissed my face
as I kissed yours,
letting the words of other countries
wash over us.

Then we leaned over the rail
And watched water
and ice
and branches
fall to the fog below.

Disclaimer: I tried revising every day, but got thoroughly distracted with life and things (as I am wont to do). I did, however, do much more revising and editing of this poem than I normally do, and that, in my mind, makes it an accomplished challenge.

That Working Respect

Return of the spam haiku (This time in TECHNICOLOR!).

That working respect
Is sneaky; nothing can fix
Trusted privacy.

Spam

Side note: Dr. Steve knows me so well. I mean, those sneaky hormones ARE the reason I’ve gained weight. Not, you know, lack of exercise and the sinfully delicious barbecue restaurant within walking distance of my house. That stuff is completely okay.

Work Like a Secret

Here we are again. It’s funny what your spam email can tell about your life.

Work like a secret,

Consuming all the forces

Known to you and all.

spam