Poem, write me

A couple of weeks ago, in a dull moment, and passing 1,000 tweets on Twitter, I decided to collect up all the tweets I’d ever tweeted and “do something” with them.  (The full document is nine pages!) This week’s post is the first product, though after culling and sorting, it’s clear that there are two or three or more other possible pieces left to go.  I’d call this still in draft form, but it is nearing completion.  I suspect I don’t use Twitter the way it was intended, but that’s the beauty of the internet: its uses are fluid.

Quickie translations for non-bilingual readers: chanate = crow; chencho = local word for mockingbird; golondrina = barn swallow; margarita = daisy; and colibrí = hummingbird. Have a great week! ~LD

Poem, write me

Monday morning, full moon falling
lullaby stars
shrinking into desert flame
a hundred thousand dreams fall together,
dangling by a thread of ether —
Wide universe, slow move, fast dance, long sleep.
The stars have barely risen and still
the night insists on ending
Moon don’t say goodnight…
morning comes up around the sun, chilled by starlight.

Golondrina, chanate, chencho, margarita –
daylight, daydreams, dabbling free
in elderly sunlight…
Oaks, cedars and sycamores…
flycatchers, house wrens and inca doves…
I would like to be in the barn swallow coffee klatch
‘tween greens and feathers there’s no room for bad news.

Chanate sawing, chencho singing
Chencho, chencho,
where do you go,
when the sun is high and leaves are burning?
Checho, chencho,
where do you go,
when the moon is low?

Colibrí love on the porch
before the heat gets high;
covetous cats chattering cheerfully;
strings of mimosa flowers
doodle bug houses of sticks and mud —
to be only four again
when “backyard” meant freedom!

Save poems for another day — full moon, full moon!
Trapping moonbeams with my fingers
Moon in my hands,
sun in my eyes,
dust in my lashes,
poems dribble over my lips,
to fall and break on my pen like glass.
There’s my old friend, the moon…

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8 thoughts on “Poem, write me

  1. I didn’t understand all the tweet things about the internet, but in the poem itself, I loved the energy of all the birds doing their thing. Birds don’t stay still, neither do the words in this poem. The change in sound from the night through the morning and on into day was fun to follow as were the different birds and their happenings.

    • I don’t know exactly how to explain how I wrote the lines on Twitter — I go along collecting up stray sounds and images and I post them on Twitter as they come to me. I always had the idea of going back and mushing them together somehow, but I didn’t know what form that might take; the 9 page document I collected up (Apr ’09 to Aug ’12) was intimidating and a little overwhelming, but sorted itself pretty handily into the things I always see and always think about. Most Twitter users are not me ‘-). I also use Twitter to keep up with what’s going on in the world and find good reading on various issues of the day. I am following just over 44 tweeters, and have less than 40 followers. Hardly typical, I’d guess. ‘-) Have a great week, Amanda!

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