Category: Poems & poem-like things

Original poetry, translations and videopoems by the authors of this blog. (See Poets and poetry for criticism, etc.)

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Devotions

Don’t banish it or throw it away—
Patch it with string or floss or twine,

lean it on a trellis made from cast-off
wire hangers or a weathered fence;

feed it the anyway red of new tomatoes
that have straggled up on the vine, the snap

of peas, the sugar hardened into burnt
caramel on the sides of a pan—

And after all it has been through,
poor and tired, crushed by all the beauty,

all that’s terrible, unslakeable love,
you’ll want to take it in your arms

anyway— Lie with it, give yourself
to it, let it sob against your ear

until the hours of grief
and sleeplessness have passed

and morning’s loud clapper
sounds the call, again, to rise—

 

In response to thus: consubstantiation.

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Apiary

And after the yield of honey,
who’ll build up the hive that’s rent?

Each of its chambers has borne
the imprint of our loving.

Pale yellow, soft amber, darker gold—
Sweet that is each mouthful’s brief coloring.

 

In response to Via Negativa: The Kiss.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Pepysian haiku

This morning Mr. Sheply disposed of the money that the Duke of York did give my Lord’s servants, 22 ducatoons came to my share, whereof he told me to give Jaspar something because my Lord left him out. I did give Mr. Sheply the fine pair of buckskin gloves that I bought myself about five years ago.
My Lord took physic to-day, and so come not out all day. The Captain on shore all day.
After dinner Captain Jefferys and W. Howe, and the Lieutenant and I to ninepins, where I lost about two shillings and so fooled away all the afternoon.
At night Mr. Cooke comes from London with letters, leaving all things there very gallant and joyful. And brought us word that the Parliament had ordered the 29th of May, the King’s birthday, to be for ever kept as a day of thanksgiving for our redemption from tyranny, and the King’s return to his Government, he entering London that day.
My wife was in London when he came thither, and had been there a week with Mr. Bowyer and his wife.
My poor wife has not been well a week before, but thanks be to God is well again. She would fain see me and be at her house again, but we must be content. She writes word how the Joyces grow very rich and very proud, but it is no matter, and that there was a talk that I should be knighted by the King, which they (the Joyces) laugh at; but I think myself happier in my wife and estate than they are in theirs.
To bed. The Captain come on board, when I was going to bed, quite fuddled; and himself the next morning told me so too, that the Vice-Admiral, Rear- Admiral, and he had been drinking all day.

A fine pair of ears
my poor wife has!
Drinking all day.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 1 June 1660.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

The Kiss

This day my Lord took physic, and came not out of his chamber.
All the morning making orders. After dinner a great while below in the great cabin trying with W. Howe some of Mr. Laws’ songs, particularly that of “What is a kiss,” with which we had a great deal of pleasure.
After that to making of orders again. Captain Sparling of the Assistance brought me a pair of silk stockings of a light blue, which I was much pleased with.
The Captain and I to supper, and after that a most pleasant walk till 10 at night with him upon the deck, it being a fine evening.
My pain was gone again that I had yesterday, blessed be God.
This day the month ends, I in very good health, and all the world in a merry mood because of the King’s coming.
This day I began to teach Mr. Edward; who I find to have a very good foundation laid for his Latin by Mr. Fuller. I expect every minute to hear how my poor wife do.
I find myself in all things well as to body and mind, but troubled for the absence of my wife.

What is a kiss?
A pair of silk stockings.
A light blue supper.
A pleasant walk.
A fine pain.
The king’s coming.
A good foundation for Latin.
The absence of I.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 31 May 1660 (with inspiration from the poem by Robert Herrick).

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Endleaf

This entry is part 27 of 31 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2013

Mine is the wooden bowl
and the drink drawn by the hand-pump
from the spring; and the slippers left
by the kitchen door for entry into the house—

So when I come in from the heat,
I do not argue with the darkening
pages of the day when this body
wants nothing more than to sink

into the folds of a sheet,
an envelope of water, a book
held open at the mark as quietly
as a wood satyr’s wings.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Posted on by Luisa A. Igloria

Fever Dream

On the insides of the wrist, nape, the elbow’s
hollow: run a thin trickle of cooling water—

I think of myself in that bed: flushed with heat
and delirium, wrapped in nightgowns of rushing water.

What was it the gods claimed was stolen from them?
Some elixir of life, ambrosia, nectar, sugar water?

Flesh sweetens, ripens, pulsed with kisses;
anoint its stations with cologne water.

Above the reflecting pool, trees grows heavy
with fruit. Thirst seems a mere sip away from water.

If I drank straight from your mouth, I might revive
or I might wither. How far from reach is the water?

 

In response to Via Negativa: Lost.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Soul Food

About eight o’clock in the morning the lieutenant came to me to know whether I would eat a dish of mackerel, newly catched, for my breakfast, which the Captain and we did in the coach.
All yesterday and to-day I had a great deal of pain in making water and in my back, which made me afeard. But it proved nothing but cold, which I took yesterday night.
All this morning making up my accounts, in which I counted that I had made myself now worth about 80l., at which my heart was glad, and blessed God.
Many Dover men come and dine with my Lord. My Lord at ninepins in the afternoon. In the afternoon Mr. Sheply told me how my Lord had put me down for 70 guilders among the money which was given to my Lord’s servants, which my heart did much rejoice at.
My Lord supped alone in his chamber. Sir R. Stayner supped with us, and among other things told us how some of his men did grumble that no more of the Duke’s money come to their share and so would not receive any; whereupon he called up those that had taken it, and gives them three shares apiece more, which was very good, and made good sport among the seamen. To bed.

I eat a dish of mackerel
and a cold heart.
My heart supped with us
and told us to take
three shares apiece,
which was very good.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 30 May 1660.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Birthday of Desire

The King’s birthday.
Busy all the morning writing letters to London, among the rest one to Mr. Chetwind to give me an account of the fees due to the Herald for the Order of the Garter, which my Lord desires to know.
After dinner got all ready and sent away Mr. Cook to London with a letter and token to my wife.
After that abroad to shore with my Lord (which he offered me of himself, saying that I had a great deal of work to do this month, which was very true).
On shore we took horses, my Lord and Mr. Edward, Mr. Hetly and I, and three or four servants, and had a great deal of pleasure in riding. Among other things my Lord showed me a house that cost a great deal of money, and is built in so barren and inconvenient a place that my Lord calls it the fool’s house.
At last we came upon a very high cliff by the sea-side, and rode under it, we having laid great wagers, I and D. Mathews, that it was not so high as Paul’s; my Lord and Mr. Hetly, that it was. But we riding under it, my Lord made a pretty good measure of it with two sticks, and found it to be not above thirty-five yards high, and Paul’s is reckoned to be about ninety. From thence toward the barge again, and in our way found the people at Deal going to make a bonfire for joy of the day, it being the King’s birthday, and had some guns which they did fire at my Lord’s coming by. For which I did give twenty shillings among them to drink.
While we were on the top of the cliffe, we saw and heard our guns in the fleet go off for the same joy. And it being a pretty fair day we could see above twenty miles into France.
Being returned on board, my Lord called for Mr. Sheply’s book of Paul’s, by which we were confirmed in our wager. After that to supper and then to musique, and so to bed.
The pain that I have got last night by cold is not yet gone, but troubles me at the time of pissing.
This day, it is thought, the King do enter the city of London.

The birthday of desire.
My wife offered me a true horse
and I had great pleasure in riding:
a house built high with two sticks,
a bonfire of guns.
We go off for the same joy
and return for trouble.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 29 May 1660.

Posted on by Dave Bonta

Lost

Called up at two in the morning for letters for my Lord from the Duke of York, but I went to bed again till 5. Trimmed early this morning.
This morning the Captain did call over all the men in the ship (not the boys), and give every one of them a ducat of the King’s money that he gave the ship, and the officers according to their quality. I received in the Captain’s cabin, for my share, sixty ducats. The rest of the morning busy writing letters. So was my Lord that he would not come to dinner.
After dinner to write again in order to sending to London, but my Lord did not finish his, so we did not send to London to-day.
A great part of the afternoon at nine-pins with my Lord and Mr. Hetley. I lost about 4s.
Supped with my Lord, and after that to bed.
This night I had a strange dream of bepissing myself, which I really did, and having kicked the clothes off, I got cold and found myself all muck-wet in the morning, and had a great deal of pain in making water which made me very melancholy.

At two in the morning,
the ship not the ship
and the ending no end,
on my lost bed
I dream of having clothes
of cold water.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 28 May 1660.