Th'eater (Poetry Month 2012: Day 9)

Buttery deliciousness, just enough salty savor
for one fluffy mouthful
to follow another.
Some splurge to toss their treat in sweetly burnt caramel,
or orange cheesy cheddar that lingers later for finger flavor.

Popcorn

Th'eater popcorn: in bags, in tubs,
in gloriously giant-sized proportions.
They turn down the lights and the whole room hushes.
Nothing to distract or interfere with this rite, this ritual,
this well-earned Friday night indulgence.
Free to enjoy the delectable, specially selectable
flavored or traditional, utterly unmissable
eminently edible, dazzlingly incredible
Popcorn.

...and sometimes there's a movie.

Rolled Away (Poetry Month 2012: Day 8)

How shall we move the stone,
the heavy door of stone
sealed to keep us from
the object of our grief?

Look! The stone is moved,
the door is open wide,
there is nothing inside.
O heartless, cursed thief!

But then he speaks her name,
and all the fear and pain
give way to sweet relief
and joy, and true belief.

Christ risen today,
all burdens roll away.

Light as Air (Poetry Month 2012: Day 7)

I have dreamed, as you have too,
of resting on a floating cloud,
to float away to neverland
where only comfort is allowed.
This dream has been a bit delayed,
and sweet repose remains belated;
I slept last night upon a mattress
that was only half inflated.
I hope that when my cloud arrives
that my repose is less abortive
and the air inside will be
at least a little more supportive.

image credit: savvyrest.com

Shutting the Tomb (Poetry Month 2012: Day 6)

Hands wring
Nothing but themselves to hold
Shroud laid, wrappings made
Spices, ointment, all complete
They have nothing left to them.

Empty light from the rising moon
Colder than tears, colder than stone
Seems to drown the too-warm night
in broken hopes
and dead promises.

And the stone rolls closed
on a void
that we are
still too numb to feel.

Angel (Poetry Month 2012: Day 5)

She appears softly
a blonde halo curling from her head
and with a smile lovely as wings.
She is here
a miracle standing in the doorway
my angel in flannel pajamas.

Ownership of Space

1. Spaces are not always used for the function intended by the architect. I'm sure you can think of examples, both positive and negative. Reasons for this can include:
   An inadequate design--the space does not foster the intended use.
   A failure of communication--users do not understand the designer's intent.
   A difference of opinion--users know what the space is for but determine to do something else with it.
   This begs the question of whose vision for a space should take precedence if (when) they conflict.

Both of these points apply to the "imaginative space" that is literature. I'll explore the first today and leave the second for another post.

Point two: Use vs. Intent.
In the context of literature, this boils down to "What did I get from reading this?" vs. "What did the author intend readers to experience?" The interesting follow-on questions are "Should I care what the author intended or is my personal experience independent of that?" and "When intent and experience don't align, is that the author's fault (for not writing well enough) or the reader's (for bringing their own baggage)?" A recent post author Shannon Hale's blog discussed the

Digging (Poetry Month 2012: Day 4)

Every night I get to live
the childhood dream of searching
for lost treasures of eons past.
It's not as glamorous as I thought.
Using the archaeologists brush,
removing debris,
uncovering flossilized specimens.
All in a day's work for the
before-bed paleodontolist.

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Looks writing these at midnight to meet the poetry month deadline doesn't always bring out my best work.