poetry

breathing underwater

I built my house by the sea.
Not on the sands, mind you,
not on the shifting sand.

And I built it out of rock.

A strong house
by a strong sea.
And we got well acquainted, the sea and I.
Good neighbors.
Not that we spoke much.
We met in silences,
respectful, keeping our distance
but looking our thoughts across the fence of sand.

Always the fence of sand our barrier,
always the sand between.

And then one day
(and I still don’t know how it happened)
the sea came.

Without warning.
Without welcome even.

Not sudden and swift, but a shifting across the sand like wine,
less like the flow of water than the flow of blood.
Slow, but flowing like an open wound.

And I thought of flight, and I thought of drowning, and I thought of death.
But while I thought, the sea crept higher till it reached my door.
And I knew that there was neither flight nor death nor drowning.

That when the sea comes calling you stop being good neighbors,
Well acquainted, friendly from a distance neighbors.
And you give your house for a coral castle
And you learn to breathe under water.

– Carol Bialock

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other people's poems, poetry

I never heard

I never heard my mother
Sing opera
Mahalia jackson is the only diva
She knows
She only knows her bible
As some people read
Librettos
She would rather sit in
Her rock garden
Then in a box
At the met
Though, sometimes during
Breakfast
I swear, i hear her whistling
Arias

Erren Geraud Kelly 4’4’18

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poetry

superman

how much can I get
for Superman’s tears
they slide easily
down cheekbones
that belong
on Mt Rushmore

he talks tenderly
about an old love
who now lives with
another man
in St Louis

he refuses to go to auditions
smelling like the street
he calls me Lois Lane and
proposes to me
once a week

no one is thinking about
james baldwin anymore
the weight of Superman’s
tears a body
strapped to our
backs

we offer him handfuls of
freshly picked flowers
the tears of a king
a garden in bloom

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poetry

things that were said @ Poetry Friday

…tell him solitude
is creative if he
is strong….
– Carl Sandburg, from The People, Yes

//

“I’ll read the poem,
anyone got a problem with that?” – Stacy

“I was in a plane once,
the pilot said,
‘we’re gunna make it'” – Charles

“I’ll do anything for
beauty but I don’t recycle
when shit gets hard” – Liz

“there is no such thing as
common sense,
it’s a non-concept” – Charles (?)

“he ratted me out for
looking at porno on
the library computer” – Alan @ Phinoy

“this poem puts conditions on love…
on feelings” – Gary

“you know when you get to the shore
all is well, and that is where the
healing begins” – Mike

“I rode a horse before and
I didn’t feel powerful,
I felt insecure” – Mike

“would a true love even allow you
to do this?” – Gary

“no, it’s not about the black thing,
just the gay thing” – Stacy

“but he’s nutty as a fruit cake!” – Mike

“the dictionary defines unconditional
love as worship” – Charles

“the thing I love most about you
is that you love me” – Kelvin

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