collateral damage

Posted on September 17, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

when the dust lifts
count the bodies

subtract
the one you wanted to hit

and tell me
if the others are any less dead
through non-intention

this is a math
I will never understand:
the sine, cosine, and collaterals
of damage

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , , | 19 Comments

Love Letter: Response Poem

Posted on September 14, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

If I were a ladybug
I would marry you
in your constant opening to air;
my 12 footprints
tracking pollen across our moss bed,
these antenna two quills
shaped simply
to scribe your sweet
with nectar ink.

I would love you
across kingdoms
and shout a vow too large
for one small voice;

A promise of passion
that can only be collective
and rooted, the way seeds
and hemolymph speak it.

I will lay eggs
under your leaves
and our children
will speak of this promise
blooming.

***I do not write response poems, but tonight I had to.  Thanks to Eulonia for triggering this, and Leo for the first line of this poem (in the comments).

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , , | 30 Comments

patience (2)

Posted on September 14, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

Patience is a virgin, she said
and that’s how she heard it
and never called it virtue,
her metaphorical hymen
keeping her dress down
and bracketed by thighs so tight
she almost forgets what she’s waiting for
and why that aspirin is between her knees.

You can’t run or swim or play tennis
with a pill sandwiched by your legs
for so long only the press
of that circle marking your skin
has importance, and so much is lost
in that long wait.

***at dVerse today, we are turning phrases on their heads.

Posted in New Free Verse | 54 Comments

Patience

Posted on September 14, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

Some work is slow work,
where what must happen
happens silent
in the space where cream
hardens to parmesan
or phenols break into bouquet;
where calendars
are only suggestions,
and the months from plowing
to first fruit are measured best
not in days,
but through breath and heartbeat.

This poem, waiting birth
has fluttered teases under my hands
as its bones stretch from idea

to genesis.  The work of it
cannot be learned through pacing.  Patience
is in the growing of a slow thing,
in yielding to wait
and trusting not time
but process.

***Some explanation of where I have been lately.  I am growing a poem.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , | 19 Comments

love letter

Posted on September 13, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

This is embodiment and dissolution. Brilliant.

eulonia's avatareulonia country

DEAR LADYBUGS HELLO.

YOU DO NOT KNOW ME BUT I LOVE YOU.
AS A WHOLE AND AS INDIVIDUALS.

I WANT TO MIX POLLEN AND SUGAR AND NECTAR AND WATER.
AND SPRAY IT ON MYSELF.
AND LET YOU CRAWL ON ME.

USE YOUR 1,500 BLACK LADYBUG TONGUES.
SO SMALL THEY ARE NEARLY A ONE-CELLED ORGANISM.
USE THE PARAMECEUMS OF YOUR MOUTHS TO DRINK.
THE SWEETNESS I HAVE MADE FOR YOU.

DEAR LADYBUGS I WANT TO MARRY YOU.
FOR MY DOWRY I SHALL GIVE 100,000 APHIDS EACH.
I WILL FEED THE APHIDS SUGARCANE.
PAPYA.
PEANUT.
THEY WILL BE THE BEST-TASTING APHIDS YOU HAVE EVER.
EATEN.
AND YOU WILL LOVE ME.

LADYBUGS IN THIS VISION I HAVE YOU ARE ALL AROUND ME.
WE SLEEP IN A GARDEN BED I HAVE MADE JUST FOR US.
I BURROW MY FINGERS INTO THE EARTHEN.
BIG WHITE ROOTS.
BUT THEY DO NOT TAKE AT FIRST.
I START…

View original post 157 more words

Posted in New Free Verse | 2 Comments

the jazz of my words

Posted on September 13, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

I want to roll with
the jazz of my words
popping lightly–
finger snaps
or high heels on concrete
tapping a beat
that makes me sway
spoken music

let strength and snap
pour from my mouth
in a cadence felt from the toes up

yes,
I am walking poetry today–
I woke with this poem
writing itself alive
before eyes open

words that kick
like unsweetened espresso
in a rhythm played with brushes
not sticks, on those drums
I call ears.

***updated to add “Don’t Blame Me,” Thelonious Monk, 1966

Wrote this last summer, and it seems to fit with Gay’s prompt today over at dVerse.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , , | 46 Comments

John Wayne’s Dead

Posted on September 1, 2013 by Susan L Daniels

John Wayne’s dead but his ghost rattles spurs
and his voice blows tumbleweed promises
only flesh can keep.  His badge, shiny as only tin is
in sunshine winks as if this is all a joke,
this wild west, this middle east
all the same thing as the only sheriff in town
puts on his uniform.

So John Wayne smiles, fake as his name
and wishes his badge was true silver
so he could sell it and ride off
into that predictable sunset,
the way all good cowboys do
if he wasn’t already dead.

Posted in New Free Verse | Tagged , , , , | 16 Comments