Ever Since Eve

For every generation born since the gods became male,
some suddenly enlightened cleric
declares discovering the source of the world's hardships
and lays blame at the feet of women.
Cover her, silence her, hobble her
the mere fact of her sex creates danger,
her temptation too great to resist.
Yet by virtue of bearing all she has endured,
all sordid attempts to conquer and control,
for every generation born since the goddesses reigned,
women still stand in the light, sacrosanct.

(c)2010 Noreen Braman

NaPoWriMo - April 28 - Ruins

Ruins

A year’s orbit has ended,
a full range of seasons completed,
the time spent in the quiet dark has ended
and the debris field comes in view.
No longer in flames but more horrible to see
are the charred remains once fled in despair,
revisited now with still mourning eyes
and a barely beating heart.

(c)2010 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 27- Deer Crossing

Deer Crossing

at the bottom of the hill, remnants of mist and shadows
give false security for their crossing
as the morning cars have no reluctance
to travel this back road at high speed.
tawny shadows, single file
stepping gingerly on the pavement,
heads turning in tandem at the approaching sound.
then, leaping triumphantly into the brush
at the far side, a safe haven
where they fade into themselves
like smoke.

(c)2010 Noreen Braman

Day 5 - and the NAPOWRIMO Site is still down

I don't know what happened, all I know is, since April 20th I have been unable to access the discussion forums at www.poets.org in order to post to the NAPOWRIMO thread. I've emailed twice, but not gotten any response either, so don't know if it is being worked on or not. 

So, I will try to soldier on, make up for the lost days, and post the rest of my poetry here on the blog through May 7. 

And remember, April 29 is Poem in Your Pocket Day, so start thinking about what poem you'd like to carry around with you and share on that day.

At this time of year, I am always drawn to "Casey at the Bat," but I'm still mulling it over. :)

National Poetry Month - 2010 NAPOWRIMO - April 21 Poetry Podcast

Poetry Podcast

What is

this odd

rhythm

they use

to read

their poems

aloud?

(breathe)

I can't

enjoy

the work

at all,

each line

ends like

a question?

(scream)

(c)2010 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 20- The Conversation

The Conversation

“All I know of love,” she said,
“is lust and learned behavior.”
He gazed into her acquiescing eyes.
“Then let us just be students.”

©2010 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month - 2010 NAPOWRIMO - April 19 Tea Time

Tea Time
I’m having tea with Flaming June and Shakespeare,
he is blathering on about Hamlet, as usual
and God forbid she should try to stay awake for once.
Can it be she is dreaming of sleeping
in a field strewn with roses and cherubs?
For if he says another word about
not knowing what we may be,
I’ll be plugging my ears with the tea leaves
And joining her in artistic repose.

(c)2010 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month - 2010 NAPOWRIMO - April 18 Adorateur

Adorateur

Delicate strokes from her finest fountain pen
spun out the letters in blood red ink
each ornate extender flowing into curlicues and flourishes
reticulated arms thrown wide to the heavens
resting on bowls overflowing with droplets and tears
enclosed with windswept waves of lines
fading off to either side.
She took the mark upon her willingly,
drawing the scarlet of her own blood
in sacrifice, in homage, in the holy pain of worship,
she embraced the fire of his adornment
her secret surrender complete. 

(c)2010 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month - 2010 NAPOWRIMO - April 17 Word Shares

Word Shares

By putting these words away for safekeeping,
have I guaranteed a future return
with a constant reinvestment to create growth poetry,
gathering power with time,
or should I spend my words on income poetry,
paying small but steady dividends?
I haven’t the heart to short my own words,
to buy into their failure even just as a hedge,
my emotional attachment increases my risk,
after all words are a commodity not only
enslaved to the changing tide of supply and demand
but battered by a fickle marketplace
whose prices cannot be charted
with any semblance of certainty.

(c)2010 Noreen Braman

Echoes


Those once belonged to me,
as much as anyone can really possess words,
their echo still hangs, like breath on a cold morning,
whispering undercurrents flowing through the day
going downstream and out to sea.
I cannot swim without your arms
To hold me up.

(c)2010 Noreen Braman

NaPoWriMoApril 16

They Still Call it the Suburbs




This is how the days end in April


Sitting outside with birds flying like bullets


Children screaming like banshees


A phone rings and rings and isn’t picked up


And from inside the house the sound of a dryer


Turning over and over with something stuck inside


That rattles and rolls and tears at the evening


This is how the days end in April.





This is how the nights start in April


Heat retreating as fast as the light


Cats slithering along the fence line


Eyes fixed on distant prey


Dishes clink from inside kitchens


At least in some of the houses.


And later the shades fall against the night


To hide them that crave the dark pleasures


The kind that come with needles or bottles


As children put themselves to bed.
 
(c)2010 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month - 2010 NAPOWRIMO - April 14

April Eyes

Each morning tears - of sadness?
of joy? of spring fever?
Blurred vision begins the day.

(c)2010 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month - 2010 NAPOWRIMO - April 13

I Can’t Tell You the Name of this Poem

Before I even started I was already half-defeated knowing it wouldn't be too
Long before the words collapsed into a hopeless tangle that
Obviously would take me all night to unravel, that is, if I didn’t go
Crazy trying to get them skyward, up into the wind like a dragon-shaped
Kite that dips and swoops and thrills the beached onlookers who don’t need a poem
Everyday because they are way to busy to read, never mind write, besides who can
Decide what a poem is really, so why even start.

©2010 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 12 - Mockingbird

Mockingbird

How different the songs are at night
a solo performance of each bird of the day
who so often are only background noise
competing with mowers and engines and children.
The mockingbird has no such competition
Warbling and chirping and calling in the dark,
master of mimicry, performer extraordinaire
but talent tinged with sadness,
for in this perfect performance of reflected melody
Is no note of the mockingbird’s own.

©2010 Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 10 and 11- The Lost (Poetry) Weekend

The Lost (Poetry) Weekend

Do my two days of silence even leave a space
in the worldwide tsunami of creative words?
the unspoken verse a tree fallen silently in the woods,
a silent scream frozen in oil paint.
Mute witness to the storytelling fossil
thrown to the surface by the explosions of mining,
did the space I left allow bodies of heroes to fall from the sky,
adding their blood to an unholy place,
my unused words used to form a vile prayer
in the mouths of the learned?

©Noreen Braman

NAPOWRIMO April 9 - Spring Song part IV

IV

Finally, a gentle rain falls in the night
caressing the bent and battered yew
whose only sin was standing up
to the icy blast of wind and snow.
She fared better than her sisters
now reduced to sticks and debris.

NAPOWRIMO April 8 - Barefoot in the Bookstore

Barefoot in the Bookstore

At the bookstore my foot itches uncontrollably
I can hardly believe a mosquito got me already
its so early for biting and stinging and scratching
please give me at least a couple of weeks in the yard.
The crows are taking over the mockingbird’s tree
between them and the squirrels the racket makes the dog insane
and I can’t even finish a line without leaning down
and unbuckling my shoe and exposing to air
the flaming insult already scratched raw,
I am tempted to pour hot coffee on it
scalding is better than this ungodly skin crawl.

Someone across the bookstore is staring as if
a bare foot was somehow obscene
and I wonder if he has a yard full
of dappled sun and gentle breezes
that turns into The Planet of Bugs.
Even the bats wheeling overhead at dusk
grow fat but barely make a dent
in the population,
and now their numbers further reduced
by the white nose disease and broken hibernation.

I know the hostas need thinning
and they would fill in that bare spot under the tree
but there are slinky, slimy things in the earth,
I am sure my yard holds so many more
than anyone else’s.
After all, when we moved in, we had to spend weeks
battling legions of spiders whose webs
enclosed every doorway and window each morning
no one wanted to be first starting the day
and the dog stood whining by the back door
Knowing the squirrels were getting away.

Not much to be done on street in a neighborhood
where a junk car in the backyard is required
and feral cats without tails, and missing legs and eyes
brazenly yowl under the windows and sleep on the patio,
their scent drives the dog crazy and she can smell them
through the walls, following them with her nose
from driveway to yard - we put up barricades
to keep her from jumping through the windows.

And finally, this litany of wild kingdom complaints
has tamed the sensation in my foot just enough
so I can drink my coffee and read my magazine
still feeling a little cheated because
it is too early for mosquitoes
and I know, back at home the dog is barking
incessantly from deep in the house, at the crows.

National Poetry Month - 2010 NAPOWRIMO - Birthday Calculus

Birthday Calculus

Some coincidental
mathematical interplay today,
April’s Rule of 5s.

Is it enough to number the years
or must they also be counted?
Because the sum of life is an irrational number
Still bound by the laws of physics.

The higher the total
The faster time goes.

©2010 Noreen Braman

NaPoWriMo April 6 - part 3 Song of Spring

III

Sudden warmth so early for April

bursts the trees into bloom so quickly

careful listeners might hear the pop

of buds along the branches,

squirrels darting in and out of pastel popcorn balls

festooning the awakening trees.

NAPOWRIMO April 5 - Sensible is as Sensible Does

Sensible Is as Sensible Does

In a sensible suit wearing sensible heels

she drives to the office in her sensible wheels

has lunch at her desk eating sensible meals

no one guessing how horrid being sensible feels.

But she keeps her own counsel and never reveals

That this sensible woman making sensible deals

Has under her clothing, a zebra brassiere.

© 2010 Noreen Braman

NaPoWriMo April 4 - part 2 Song of Spring

II.

Overnight, once barely visible hostas

push their purple shoots upward

suddenly tall enough to cast shadows

On warming soil that not long ago

still slumbered, enshrouded in snow.

©2010 Noreen Braman

NaPoWriMo April 3 - part 1 Song of Spring

I.

Another spring lays its gifts at my doorway

the budding blooms of leaf and flower

slowly filling in the faded landscape

with color upon color upon color

a promise made and a promise kept.

©2010 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month - 2010 NAPOWRIMO - Trouble With Tennis Terms

Trouble With Tennis Terms

I still can’t understand
how love meaning nothing
and mastering a backhand
are considered good things,
since I have been backhanded
by a love that meant nothing
And I didn’t win the set.

©2010 Noreen Braman

National Poetry Month - 2010 NAPOWRIMO - Here we go!

April Moon


Who will chase the moon with me
on a clear April night where
the barest hint of springtime grass
Glistens damply, still sodden
from days and days of rain.

but who will chase the moon with me
April’s night stretches long and empty
her springtime silence masking
the life within her stirring.

And who will chase the moon with me
and share the starlit sky with me
before the night is over run
with the fair weather friends of summer.

©2010 Noreen Braman