lizcommotion: Two African American men gazing at a sign reading "March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom" (bayard rustin)
So this poem was totally not what I was thinking of writing, and I'm still not completely sure about it or whether it totally completes the goals of the challenge. Plus, I have generally learned to trust poems that write themselves, so. Here you go.

If you're interested in the Poetree challenge for this week, you can find it here.

never learned anything from history
by [personal profile] lizcommotion 

i used to be a historian
but it done make me mad done make me sad
all the cheatin' all the stealin' all the lyin'
all the killin' we done all through time

Ancient Rome threw people to the lions
was built by slaves and stealing peoples' land
people say, look at those buildings
they're a great civilization
we should try to be like Rome
it done made me made done made me sad

i thought, i'll take a fun class
sex and sexuality in the US
NSFW (language) and also cut for length )

lizcommotion: A leather journal (well-used) (journal)
Remember how I wrote that sacred poem etheree for the Poetree challenge awhile back? Well, folks suggested that I make it a double etheree (or whatever one would call it) to complete the wheel, so to speak. I finally got around to doing that, so here it is. Thought I'd post it in time for the Sunday Picnic over on [community profile] poetree .

What prompted this? Super not-so-secret plans to maybe make some sort of zine...probably available electronically in pdf and/or epub via donation with some/all of proceeds going to charity. There will be writing not posted online! And doodles/drawings! And maybe some knitting patterns! Who knows! It's exciting and deserves exclamation points! I have collected 19 printed pages of writing so far, and I haven't even gotten to what's stored on my netbook.


wheel of the year
by [personal profile] lizcommotion 

birth
the first
ewe of spring
a fertile rite
of Brigid's warm hearth
the wheel has turned again
rejoice in Imbolc's promise
not long til the crocus bursts forth
not long til we dance round the maypole
not long til Midsummer, and nights grow long

Mayapples have faded, fruition bursts forth
now it's John Barleycorn's time again
Lammas, harvest, giving thanks
as leaves fade from trees, so light
again begins to fade
the Veil at Samhain
is thin as night
Midwinter
not-death
birth


All poetic works by [personal profile] lizcommotion  posted here licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike Non-Commercial License unless otherwise discussed with me.
lizcommotion: A photo looking up at an autumn tree canopy (autumn trees)
In response to [community profile] poetree  challenge #7, I give you "how I am, in etheree"...

Home Hunt

hunt
a house
find a house
better yet, home
painted by sunlight
sheltered by ten stout trees
bordered by a walking trail
with a bus that leaves for the shops
give me a fireplace where I can curl
and knit hats through each snowy winter's night

...and by the way, we got a house/home which is very nice and meets all of the above description. So assuming all goes well with the inspection and all that nonsense I will be moving into it at the end of June. (And my bedroom will have windows! Real windows! Looking out to a park with trees!).
lizcommotion: a forest filled with sunlight and small purple flowers (spring trees)
In response to [community profile] poetree 's Weekly Challenge #4, I give you some of my favorite posts from the comm...and if you're not subscribed to it, I highly recommend you check it out, because it's a lot of fun. (By clicking on some of the links below, for example.)

Poem: "Present", format: etheree, by [personal profile] ariestess , posted March 21, 2012

In addition to really enjoying this poem, I thought this format was really intriguing. So intriguing, in fact, that I wrote one of my own. I had never heard of it before, and I really enjoyed having another poetry format in my arsenal that I can actually remember the rules for off the top of my head (as opposed to having to look them up constantly). It also reminds me a little bit of a tanka or haiku, but gives one a few more syllables to work with. Starting with one syllable at the beginning of the poem also makes a bit of an immediate impact, because whatever you start with is going to frame the rest of the poem. Thank you again, [personal profile] ariestess , for sharing such a wonderful form!

Poem: Ghazal of the Transcendental, format: ghazal; by Luisa A. Igloria; posted January 22, 2012

The ghazal is another wonderful format that I had never heard of before [community profile] poetree . The format is originally from Persia, and Luisa A. Igloria has done wonders with hers. The poem pokes a little bit at how "the Buddha was not a woman doing chores all day, much less singing." Yet it is not necessarily a "dissing" of Buddhism, more of an exploration of how we can free ourselves from suffering while still doing all of the mundane tasks that people (especially women) have to do in the mundane world. If you don't have the time/freedom to go sit on a mountaintop and meditate, how can you obtain enlightenment? If you want to know, go read this poem. Or go read it if you want to find out what a really good ghazal looks like.

Poem: "Cibola" (exceprt); format: historical epic poem; by Dave Bonta, posted February 14, 2012

Dave Bonta has posted a very interesting and engaging excerpt to his epic poem Cibola, which is a very well-researched historical epic poem. You can read the full poem on his site, Via Negativa. What I found interesting was the use of research in the poem - a year and a half! - and also how the symbolism from that research infused that poem. There was also a deep sense of longing in the poem, as evidenced by such lines as:

Toss cornmeal out before you,
straight, like every holy intention.
Smoke tobacco so prayers will have
their own road. Follow the sacred
transect running north.


Poem: "A Knot of Thyme", format: free verse fantasy; by Elizabeth Barrette, posted October 10, 2011

I love this poem for what it shows can be done with epic/story/fantasy poetry, for lack of a better word. A lot of the poetry that I read/have read tends to be about particular moments in time, as opposed to creating a character and a world for her. Perhaps I'm just not reading the right literary magazines, but Elizabeth Barrette did a really excellent job here. She reminded me a bit of all the hours I spent in Latin class translating the Aeneid, except I wasn't so mad about all the anti-Feminist things that are present in the Aeneid (don't get me started on Dido...).

There are so many more wonderful posts out there in [community profile] poetree , but these are ones that struck me in a particular way when I read them. Go, check out the community for yourself, and perhaps make your own "best of" post in response to challenge #4! (The deadline is Friday, March 30 at 11:59 PM EST)

Poem: "Mother-Tongue"; format: epic, retelling of Beowulf from of feminist perspective; by [personal profile] jjhunter , posted October 23, 2011

I know it may seem as though I am playing favorites if I post a moderator's poem, but I really love this one. (I do seem to be stuck on epics as well today, yes?) In "Mother-Tongue," [personal profile] jjhunter retells Beowulf from the perspective of Grendel's and Beowulf's mothers. I feel like there should be more reworkings of classic literature like this, so really you should read this poem for this alone. In addition to that, jj has really captured the style (imho) of a classic poem and Beowulf in particular, while giving it a more womanly slant. Go check it out! You won't regret it.

lizcommotion: an open road stretches into the distance (open road)
...and also [personal profile] jjhunter 's dare that I enter. This idea has actually been kicking around in my brain since Friday, and it turns out a poem was the perfect way to express it. The following is an etheree, which is a very fun poem to write.

"Up/Down"

up
pedal
pump up hill
keep beat with breath
don't stop, don't think just
feel body flow breathe in
still on the edge of the hill
mockingbird breathes its soulmate's song
warbling in time with legs' up down
crescendo and crest the hill, fly back down


poem cross-posted to
[community profile] bicycles 

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