Stars and Fishing

I remember a time when I wrote all my poems on time.  That was a good time.  When did I become such a slacker?

Yesterday I went to a poetry slam put on by my friend's library.  I say it's her library because she works there, not because it's her local library.  Just to be clear.  I read a couple poems that I had planned on reading, and then all of a sudden no one wanted to read after me.  I felt bad, but at the same time, I also felt kinda awesome because I killed my performance on those two poems.  Luckily, my friend whipped out her memorized Shakespearean sonnet.  And then I ended up reading again because PEER PRESSURE!  But I had a ton of fun!  It helped that there were a handful of people who complimented my poems and my reading of them, so that just made me feel all around awesome.  [this is when Brianna realizes she should purchase a thesaurus]

The poem snippets for yesterday that I wrote today came from a quote which turned up in a conversation with a friend last night (I'll bet you can figure out what was said...).  He might punch me for stealing it...but you know what...too bad.  And then the poem for today was because there were so many fish poems at the slam yesterday and I realized that I haven't written a fish poem.  And this poem also led me to learn that when I start stories about my childhood, I may start talking about "me" or "I," but then I eventually shift into "we" and "us" because I did just about everything with my little brother.  Interesting...

April 28, 2013

You said that
if all the stars aligned
and circumstances changed,
we could talk about it.
But you're forcing the stars
into this position
and pulling celestial legs
overhead
when all you need to say is:
"I want to."


You're forcing the stars
into this position
on your pantry shelf
because you already
hung the moon
on your doorknob.
I'm not saying
you can't tack the sun
to your corkboard,
but leave some warmth
for the rest of us.


You're forcing the stars
into this position
and Tom Cruise
is not a fan.


April 29, 2013

When I was little,
my grandpa took me fishing.
We stood on the pier,
and Grandpa held out
a styrofoam container
full of grubs.
I cringed
when the little white things
squirmed in the sawdust.
Grandpa speared the grub
and curled it around my hook.
I closed my eyes.
My favorite part was casting,
flicking the hook
out into the water
and listening for the plop.
Then reel it back in
before the bite.
Cast and reel.

"Writers fish for the right words like fisherman fish for, um, whatever those aquatic creatures with fins and gills are called."

- Jarod Kintz