10 minute poem:  glue

 
Tacky as Glue

that black vinyl mini skirt
that flimsy leopard print blouse
and her all giggly while she takes sips
of my boyfriend’s beer
and blows suds into his face

Whew, where did that come from?
A very sticky subject.

Bo
 

 Cool, Bo!  That is so visceral and repellent and fascinating all at once.  It is a sticky subject indeed.

Here's a 22-minute poem on a similarly sticky topic.  I got going and didn't want to stop - stuck in my own poem-making. 

Stan/KS

Glue

You were the one who didn’t sniff glue

with the kids bunched up behind the gym

or later, dive into each other’s pants

as though seeking lost keys in different pockets.

You were the one unschooled in shortcuts

that slid between easy houses

governed by adults who worked doubles

or practiced stone blindness until it stuck.

You were the one left off the list

for beer parties with older boys

up the Boom Road where the deer

flashed white tails between the trees.

You were the one unmoored and unfastened,

drifting like dross between fascinations,

studies and words and other places,

peeling away at last from the town.

They were the ones who sniffed glue,

married the keys, adhered to the bunch,

the shortcuts and the places they loved.

The town holds them in its sticky arms,

holding fast its loyal sons and daughters.

Kate

15 February 2008

 I've been haunted by my poem for hours now, knowing I'd botched the end.  Here's another 10 minutes just trying to get the end right.  (I wanted to convey that those who stay "glued" into their intimate, familiar lives are not to be pitied or condescended to; nor are those who never got firmly fixed in that life. You get freedom with a touch of lonesome on the one hand; intimacy with a touch of insularity on the other.  I'm still not sure if this is coming through, but it's more honest, at least.  I've just pasted in the last couple stanzas that I fixed).

They were the ones who sniffed glue,

married the keys, adhered to the bunch,

the shortcuts and the places they loved.

The town holds them in its sticky arms

as it never held you, born without

adhesive, born with smooth sides,

born apart from the litter, all the pups

snug with their eyes gummed shut, and

A grand new ending, Stan.  There was a blip in the first post, now there's transition and then resolution.  Gives that sense of identification.  It's a good concept to work on. And the poem is good.

Amazing how a poem looks you in the eye, and dares you to rewrite those few words or a new ending, or blast when it happens, nearly the whole poem.  I'm having fun with this.  Isn't it amazing how one word sets a chain reaction of words crashing into each other and poetry is born.  And I love how the same prompt is treated so differently, such different styles, techniques. Seems that what started out as fairly light poem treatment in the first poems has evolved into the real stuff - my take at least. Ooh, this IS fun.

I'll throw out the prompt for next Friday, give me a follow up on your opinion.

Actaually I propose a 4-week set and see where that goes. Just a twist.  I went to a wedding the other week and was a-mused by the traditions we follow in these affairs.  Ah, inspiration, so what if we do:

Friday 1 - something new

Friday 2 - something old

Friday 3 - something borrowed

Friday 4 - something blue

I'd call it a wedding trilogy, but it's 4 and I don't know what four would be called.   Any idea? 

So Stan (or KateSinging if you prefer) what do you think?

Bo

Hi Everybody, Did you say Glue? The word "glue" must have triggered something poetic and I had a dream/nightmare about my ex this am (he used to love Krazy Glue and had to always have some on hand to "fix" things). So I guess it stirred up something.  Below is 10 minutes worth of glue ranting and I love the next 4 weeks suggested theme and will try to play along.  It maybe bittersweet for me, we'll see where it goes.  I think it would be called Wedding Quartet, right?  Anyway, here's my "Glue" rant:

CRAZY GLUE GET A CLUE 

What was that? Watch my acid tone you say?

And who are you to dare intrude on my artistic daydream?

Oh, it's you, glue...  Krazy Glue!

You whacky, tacky, arrogant adhesive, you!

You vaporous cyanoacrylate!

 Lori, that is fabulous!  I love the music of it, too.

It's so interesting that we all saw/felt glue as a kind of adhesive force in relationships with other people - either holding them firmly together or just too sticky for comfort.

 And Bo, great idea for the Wedding Quartet!  That sounds like a lot of fun, so count me in!

Bravo, you marvelous poets!

KS/Stan
 

Kate-- Thanks for your feedback on my glue-rant!  It was so refreshing to get it out!  This glue subject really is very fascinating.  It's all so icky, sticky and ooey, gooey deep, isn't it?  But what I did want to say that I find most profound in your poem to me is that glue -- that agent which normally joins together -- in your poem plays a somewhat opposite role and becomes a barrier.  Hint: I love a good paradox. 

 Dear Bo,

Just wanted to thank you for the feedback and encouragement.  I'm glad it feels more complete to you, too.

And I couldn't agree more about the way a poem "looks you in the eye!"  It sure does.  And poems never lie, either.  I've often thought of this as the soft spot under the apple's skin - a bit of rot.  You know it's there, sometimes you pretend it isn't, but there's no escaping the knowledge.  You either have to pare something away or eat a partly rotten apple.

 I also love how your poem surprised you!  I feel the same way often.  The content of our lives, our minds, and our hearts are mysterious even to us, thank heavens.

KS/Stan
 

 Lori,

I am SO glad you joined in on the poem game.  And your poem was excellent, excellent, and excellent.  The word choices were  perfect for a rant, and I love the idea of getting even with acetone. What a delightfully 'bad' picture poem.

And  "Wedding Quartet" - yes, that would be it exactly. Thanks.  It's a great title!

And now for everyone: 

Mark it down, the next

FRIDAY 10 MINUTE POEM

posted by Friday, February 22 at 5:00 CST  (I love these details, don't mind me - but I'm having way too much fun)

Topic:  WEDDING QUARTET I ~ "SOMETHING OLD"

Enjoy... 

 
Bo 

 Hello Bo, Lori, and Everyone!

Here's my "something old" poem - and great fun it was to write, too!  Excellent idea, Bo!  Thanks for that!

It's an 18 minute poem, cuz' I got going and enjoyed it so much. 

Sending you all good poem vibes -

KateSinging 

Something Old

Under a veil of dragonflies and autumn sun

we tied the oldest knot there is,

the great slip-knot of love

that ties the river into its banks,

the blood into its winding channels,

the tributaries of two hearts into one flow.

For old things, we assembled

Madelyn’s ancestral pearls,

a hill I rolled down as a girl,

a bouquet of old grudges cleaned up

for the occasion, and a couple

dear and ancient women.

These last we fussed over:

a wedding on a hillside, a long walk,

no priest!  Could they manage?

How wrong we were to doubt

age’s deft two-step with change.

They rode in a golf-cart to the edge –

white hair flying in the wind

like dandelion floss, purses clutched,

eyes bright, cheeks blooming.

Days later, these words in a card:

“I am still mooning over your lovely

romantic wedding.”  Oh!

Fountain of youth, splash us again and again!

Kate

22 February 2008

Marrying on a cliff

 A cliff by the lake

A lake by the river

The one flowing to the sea

It is I who feel so old

In my body underhauled

My love many years older

Is my youthful spirit

We gather on the ravaged edge

Near the fresh but ancient waters

Twisted trees our witnesses

Bowing from the winds

So we marry on a cliff

The cliff shaped by the water

Of the lake holding meaning

That flows out to the sea

Gentle hugs, everyone,

~copper cat

The Wedding Quartet - Something Old

(Not One Iota)

Did you look by the chair - the yellow one?
Check under your newspaper - you left
the business pages on the coffee table -
or try the window ledge above the kitchen sink.
Honestly, I simply cannot imagine.
If you would leave it on
and wouldn’t play so -
twirling it around your finger
or tossing it in the air
or – worst of all --  rolling it along the counter’s edge
and letting it clunk onto the floor.
But really, you’d think after these 30 some years
you wouldn’t dally with that ring.

I wear mine all day, all night, every day, every night
and don’t pay it one iota of attention.

by Bo

 

Bo, Kate, copper cat,

It would be so tempting to sentimentalize the theme of "Something Old" with your word choices; instead lines such as Bo's: "and don't pay it one iota of attention" from the poem Not One Iota are playful.  Kate's poem Something Old paints a picture with words like "white hair flying in the windlike dandelion floss, purses clutched, eyes bright, cheeks blooming"  With Jani'ce's poem, an emotional landscape is vividly described: "We gather on the ravaged edge/Near the fresh but ancient waters/Twisted trees our witnesses/Bowing from the winds followed by the compelling lines: "Of the lake holding meaning/That flows out to the sea."

Such delightful, descriptive language made all your poems a joy to read, writers!

- chameleon  

I enjoyed today's poetry... KateSinging, love the vivid picture you painted with the ladies! I could just see my beloved grandmother in your work and it touched me.

Bo, you define the theme much differently - and I enjoy your perspective.

Lori, even though I have yet to reply to your poetry, I am telling you now that you amaze me with your words and help me recall the ones I've lost.

Thank you for your ever kind words, chameleon.

Goya! I'm missing Goya! Esta gata de cobre!

~ copper cat

Your poem pictures are so perfect - veil of dragonflies, so lovely. And the bouquet of old grudges - cleaned up - what a rush for the imagination.  KS, you combine such lovely words into such lovely poetry. 

Bo