Tag Archives: FOUND LANGUAGE

Trees breathe in starlight… found language.


I stole the first line of this poem from the quote below.  “Trees breathe in starlight…”  I found it lovely and magical.  I don’t think I’m done writing about it yet.  And this little poem feels just right right now.

IMG_3297winter in michigan.  A hoarfrost.

Trees breathe in starlight

The shimmer of the Milky Way

A dance of constellations

A rhythmic pulse of night glitter

Pulled down and in

held in bark and limb

twig and leaf

Seed and stem

The inhale of constellations

from all that Infinite

goes to root

And the Earth

feeds on heavenly

Light

“You know why trees smell the way they do? Stars. Trees breathe in starlight year after year, and it goes deep into their bones. So when you cut a tree open, you smell a hundred years’ worth of light. Ancient starlight that took millions of years to reach earth. That’s why trees smell so beautiful and old.”

Frances O’Roark Dowell.

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Filed under ANN ARBOR, BE HERE NOW, EARTH CHANGES, found language, HAPPINESS, Hoar frost, Winter poem

STOLEN LINES


holy moly.. I’m running late and I had to grab ten lines from 10 other peoples poems to do the prompt today… what was I thinking.. and of course I didn’t HAVE to… so…These are the 10 lines I randomly took from other NaPoWriMo poets sites.  Just hauled off an stoled them.  I’m not sure what sense any of it will make, but will reorganize them and make somethin’ somethin’ outta them.. Ready… whewww.

QUOTE THE RAVEN EVER MORE 

My dawn starts with bright sunrays

I lift my arm to pick one and find a new galaxy

 

I walked by a girl cutting grass with scissors

I wanted to bottle and cork you, set you in my cellar, pour you through my fingers 

 

Clandestine space that is the mind, no one can read what lies within

The tree sees, whoever has seen a seeing tree knows

 

There are cascades of water spinning away from your body.

A splendid rainbow truth

 

I seized the world up, weighed it flaws and found

I wrapped you in my palms, a prayer

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MY FOUND LANGUAGE FROM OTHERS.. MY INSPIRATIONS..

 

The tree sees.

Whoever has seen a seeing tree knows.

I walked
by a girl cutting grass with scissors,

There are cascades of water spinning away from your body,

a splendid, rainbowed truth

 

My dawn starts with bright sunrays 

my night wraps up dusky dark

 

I lift my arm to pick one and find a new galaxy

 

I’ve sized the world up, weighed its flaws and found

My soul too raw to cope with sounds and stenches

I wrapped you in my palms, a prayer,

felt your pulse quicken beneath my touch,

 

I want to bottle and cork you,
set you in my cellar,
pour you through my fingers
on a mournful day

My hands twisting, I sat down between the spaces inside trees

 

Clandestine space that is the mind,

No-one can read what lies within

 

 

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out of the grey.


18 nov 2011    > 6/15 >     Lovers/Devil

 

What are you ‘bound’ to that is not serving your life?

What new choices might you make that will shift what you have let yourself be ‘trapped’ in?

What does unconditional love mean to you?

 

The sun rises at the south east edge of my house and eases his way across this autumn sky.  Old trees now naked let the light pour through  the windows.  It’s lovely. 

More found language for todays poem.  How did yesterdays work for you?  I invite writer’s to explore the found language they hear during their days and see how it prompts your work.  Or.. heck  steal a line from me and have a go at it.  

~~~~~~      ^^^^^^      ~~~~~~

“I came up from all that grey to see you.”

 

Swallowed by an inner life of grey

Days fold into each other in gloom

No room for the sun’s glory

It rains all the time

 

Life is a shuffle in the run of it

No fun in the slog of a heavy heart

That starts its pump on the breath of grey 

The lonely feeds on itself

 

After awhile it becomes the grey truth

The fruit of dreams rot and waste away

All day the clouds desire to part

Hungry for a slice of light

 

There is no expect that other holds a key

the ‘we’ was lost long ago in the storm

no form of longing has searched for glimmer

Plays fear out as victim

 

No prayer cracked the heavens wide

This side of grey saw no warm refrain

What remains is a submarine of grey

It keeps me from drowning

 

There was no why or what if

No shift in the gloom of me

Out to sea on a sail-less raft

Alone desperately.

 

I came up from all that grey to see you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A DIME IN PHONE BOOTH


17 nov 2011    >   5/14  >   Hierophant/Art/Alchemy

 

What resources do you need to make happen what needs to happen?  pick 2 and start

How will you be grateful for your life today?

What does creative freedom mean to you?

~~~~~     *****     ~~~~~

 

I’m a thief.  I steal words from people.  No… actually I steal whole sentences.  Oh no… yep I do!  I hear it, I grab it, I write it down.  Last night, as I watched the TV shows, Pan Am, and Harry’s Law, I stole.  I confess… I watch many such shows regularly and thief a line or two.   There were 3 sentences that I copied down.  I will share one now and make it my own.  That’s what I do with ‘found’ language; I take it and make it mine.  Slip either the exact line I’ve taken or change a word or two, or I use it to prompt me into writing..  Mostly, I like to just use the exact quote.  Now to choose which one … mmmmmm mmm.  Sippy the coffee, ponder the words..

 

“A dime in a phone booth and a handful of words.”

 

I carried a dime in my purse for years

Tucked it in a little corner safe

just in case back then when 

a call to home was needed

 

I had this boyfriend back then when

love was ripe, and the juices flowed

and desire won over most things

and the phone booth stood there

 

Right there in front of  me

We were both hungry

Me for lustful moist kisses

It for the swallow of a thin dime 

 

The booth sheltered my words

The phone ate my dime with a ding

Ding and a distance ring reached out

My pulse sped up to his answer  

 

I let his coo wrap me in want

Shiver my hunger through the line

That connected our desire

In lines and words that don’t wait

 

A dime in a phone booth

and a handful of words

“I want you. I’ll be there soon.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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