Last week I heard poet Terrance Hayes speak at Boise State about kindness, poetry, America, and the essential pleasure that comes from making things.
The Stranger: Terrance
The Word: Purple
The poem I wrote:
I have left my big house
for this small square.
I have left my big office
for a single chair.
I have shed bright color,
purple, red, and sage,
for the black of these letters
and the long white page.
I have looked at life,
looked hard, then looked away,
to write it as I see it,
and I throw so much away.
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.
April 17, 2019 at 12:33 pm
purple states!
April 17, 2019 at 2:02 pm
A Kiss at Thirteen
——————————-
I was thirteen and
understood my blue,
electric and clean,
had heard red stories
I thought I knew,
until you,,,,,,,
on Glencoe road,
that corner where I could not back down,
and purple was new
Spare me
the wry smile,
and wrinkled wisdom.
I refuse
the insult of cute.
What was ever more real?
April 19, 2019 at 12:24 pm
Battle Song
We are the Orcs of the Purple Hand.
We march together, rank and vile.
We smell your fear. We’re a loathsome band!
Our stench precedes us by the mile!
We are warriors, mighty Uruk-hai
With sword and spear, hammer and axe,
Fall before us, you will die!
Hear our cry! We launch attack!
Hide your woman! Hide your child!
Hide behind your fortress walls!
Soon you will all be defiled.
You will scream as your heads fall.
Tonight, man flesh will be our feast
Roasted o’er destruction’s flame
It is your fate to feed the beast
Adding to our fearsome name.
We are warriors, mighty Uruk-hai
With sword and spear, hammer and axe,
Fall before us, you will die!
Hear our cry! We launch attack!
We are the Orcs of the Purple Hand.
We march together, rank and vile.
We smell your fear. We’re a loathsome band!
It is your doom that makes us smile!
April 19, 2019 at 2:59 pm
Purple
Our plum tree bloomed, love.
Thousands of white, glorious blossoms
Decadent in sheer abundance
Lovely as a song.
Four days and one windstorm later
Petals adorn our broken porch.
The tree shrugs its leaves
Dark purple as a scab.
I run ringless hands along her trunk
To comfort us both.
I know, I tell her. I thought that part would last longer, too.
April 25, 2019 at 7:13 am
After the Storm
Rushing with wild abandon,
muddy brown water
crashes over hidden boulders –
Making crescent waves
reserved naturally for tidal bodies.
Over time and distance,
deposits of debris
create new unhidden boulders –
Skillfully adding nature to concrete
Among the remnants,
purple flowers nestle
precariously in fragile dirt (and litter) –
As they wait for the next
rush of untamed water (or wind)
to move them further downstream.