ERASURE DAY 8

 

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the more I live and breathe

Every family has to skip

many kinds of characters. 

Any character can bring

words and speculate:

what isn’t said

isn’t recorded.

Two worlds tease

the story

of Tribal thoughts

from memory.

Sometimes monologue,

sometimes conversations

or what I imagine to be

true writing,

true.

by Deborah A. Miranda

PersonalBest/My Fresh Idea

Reclaim heavy:
some killed 
a familiar.
I made hardly
a fit challenge,
but cherish
the good
only once.
remember  -
because tiny
as a child
that negativity
as sharp
as before -
now harsh words.
help us.
this prayer:
grace-filled plums
and pig fat
honor the rest.  

Margo Solod

ERASURE: DAY 7

Found this page from an Irish play in the copy room at work today.  Random submission from Fate.

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 "86 RIDERS"

86 riders in a deep grave,

God beginning to ride

the mare beyond and below,

below.  Wash man, make

the finest find. Would it be

a strong wind

raising a star, the moon,

a hundred horses

jumping in

the west wind?

No one looking

for the grave.

Fall down again

or maybe the wind

is fire, a hard cruel

sea.  Listen to the red mare,

the blessing of the black night,

the blessing and sorrow

on this house.

Deborah A. Miranda

 

"Overlooked Gems"

Just as most 

are lost,

services

are likely to continue.

In short,

a story day

hums apace,

thoughtful and solemn.

It's obvious

stressed and struggling 

community

was very

prepared

for success.

Power 

rarely works.

A bucket

of shortcomings

explains 

our competence.

Serve

and recognize

more.

Margo Solod

ERASURE DAY 6: "Wondrous Theft" & "Some Stayed"

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Wondrous Theft

North to the overlook,

sharp, almost eager crystal

trapped her heart.

Cloves turned

the shining sphere

of silk into the voices

of the dead.  Someone

named Mule dedicated

a proper sweat,

snapped the surprise:

kept you by permission

of February.

Deborah A. Miranda

 

Others Stayed

They observed

appeared to have 

few reservations.

Some did not exist

west of the celebrations.

They learned

once again,

earnest from essential.

Supreme effort.

Margo Solod

ERASURE: DAY 5

 WHY NOT

The stone hour
hit close to home.
We would murder
the different.

At a cross-roads
is a complaint,
a grievance;
Spring events
that handle their own
formation of a violation.

Trust chose not to hear.

A sense of wisdom
has to search 
many a summer
to have one, 
one individual 
that deserves
gray times,
times coming down
with such reality.

Not even a kick,
a murder -
and so 
why
be different.

Deborah A. Miranda

 

Any Inconvenience Not Recommended

Up ahead was one

of the two, trying

to call for help.

Didn't get through.  

        Do you think you could?

Not likely.  Why?

        It's hard.

Nearby, horrified

and crazed

with grief.

Just behind, 

just over the edge:

a door.

Margo Solod

ERASURE: DAY 4

 

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THE BODY

a home,

is rooted in

creation,

a dynamic

kind of

touch.  All

human lives

open doors,

large spaces.

Offer

and submit

and center.

The present

teaching

of discovery

also mentors

doves,

fosters festivals

of word

and fellowship.

Story is a growing,

intensive work,

a network

of open voices

for our page

and place,

place, place.

Deborah A. Miranda

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ART

Despite discipline,

at every turn

restricted, limited.

Who thinks function

alone embraces art?

When I asked,

I wanted how

the excruciating detail –

strength, fatigue, wear

unfortunately an opportunity

to improve before us –

disappeared.

I never did.

Margo Solod

ERASURE POEMS: Day 3

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“130.1”

Companion, marvel at the self:

absorb the sea,

an exercise in power.

The song’s spirit

composes, creates

non-human artifact,

a radical maker.

This is why power

represents a union

of blessed rage

and chaos.  The seascape

resists a world beyond

the end; the face of truth

is all skyscapes.  Imagine

the possibility: seduced

by song, forget need.

Deborah Miranda

[If you can guess which publication my erasure poem comes from, I'll send you a surprise in the mail!   -  dm]

"In Perspective"

Stretch across the fringes,

draw over Europe, America,

the Mountain range 

of migrating swallows.

Neither better nor different,

rising swiftly

          to the horizon.

No tilted tabletops

out of sight or anything.

Some fiercely loyal, others

find variety.

           don't follow national 
           boundaries.

Margo Solod

Erasure Poems, Day 2

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“The Years”

Glance back –

it is like time-fishing.

Later, soon, back,

back in those days.

At least one summer

my humble luck

changed from fur

to carbon to rock.

Different technology

replaced maps

and incremental

human-shaped bird feathers

made a comeback.

A good piece of “how long” -

just loved to death

sitting in Patagonia

for a decade.

Your first times

last a long time.

A revolutionary

second skin is my own

stainless steel membrane.

More, more – ultimately,

it comes down

to the last more.

Deborah A. Miranda 

NaPoWriMo: ERASURE POEMS

April is National Poetry Month, and the annual NaPoWriMo marathon - writing a poem a day for the entire month - is underway.  I've tried this before - mostly made it - but I know that the timing is rough: the end of one academic semester, finals week, spring break, and the beginning of our intense four week spring term.  I don't want to set myself up for failure, so I decided to give myself this challenge: one erasure (black-out) poem per day. 

And to make it even more fun, I challenged my wife (the fabulous Margo Solod) to take the plunge with me.

Starting today.

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“In Truth”

I must be a

spooked horse.

I dropped the

skull and bones,

of course.

It is time to go

block the sharp sunlight.

The day abruptly

followed the narrow

wing of thick velvet,

waved eloquently,

not even capable

of hard work.

The faint reverberation

of colliding hands

emanated

mutely.

The bright lights

picked up

a slow, deep wave

and myriad sparkling

eyes whispered please.

Deborah A. Miranda 

"Crowns"

          crowns            spring
by                       starting
                                 desire.

                            Please call.

          We are unable to

                           remember
                                              we cannot.

Margo Solod