I have a new recorded poem up on YouTube, if you feel like having a listen. This one is the first of 5 originally published in The Writing Disorder. I hope you like it.
My recorded poetry series continues with the fifth of six poems originally published in Chantarelle’s Notebook. If you have a minute and are so inclined, check out my YouTube page and subscribe!!!!
First and most importantly, I hope all who are reading this are safe and well and home. I am, as ever so incredibly grateful for the support and presence of this community in my life!
Continuing with my recorded poetry series, today I am offering the fourth of six poems originally published in Chantarelle’s Notebook. I hope you like it. Video credit goes entirely to my husband, Joe Richardson.
My latest recorded poem is up on YouTube. It is the third of six poems originally published in Chanterelle’s Notebook. Kendal Bell, editor of Chantarell’s Notebook, chose to nominate this poem for a Best of the Net award, which was a huge honor.
All of the credit for visuals goes to my amazing husband Joe Richardson!
“Lady Street Jesus” is the last of 3 poems that were originally published in The Furious Gazelle. If you haven’t yet checked out TFG, I highly recommend you do, and if submitting writing is your thing, definitely think about submitting to them.
If you would like to read all 3 of my poems in TFG, you can do so here. If you want to subscribe to my YouTube channel, you can do so here. And, please check out my website, designed so beautifully by my husband, Joe.
My energy is pretty zapped right now, my thoughts consumed with what is happening to my father. I feel sad and emotional. I feel so grateful for all of the kindness I receive here, and for the amazing writing that I get to lose myself in. But, right now, I am not reading much and certainly not writing much. I feel like a stone, slowly sinking as everything goes dark. I will get through this. I will meet the challenges that face me.
In the meantime, I have the last two poems from The Furious Gazelle recorded and will share those. In advance, I am sorry to post and run.
Lurking behind the thin
stained metal of a bathroom stall,
brazen and breathing gravel,
she waits for an audience.
I open the door to a greeting
that crackles with delight,
but the smell of her misery
crowds the room.
She steps elegantly from
behind the tin curtain and
bows to her reflection in the mirror.
Her hair is tangled and covered with despair.
She is searching for a song
that died with the starlets of Ragtime.
Lips that drip fire grasp at words
falling through blisters and cracks.
Her nose seeps with determination.
She smudges blood across her teeth
with a tremoring hand, burps,
and flushes herself down the toilet.
This will be my last post before I turn 50, and honestly, I may have the kind of hangover that takes a few days to recover from, so this may be my last post for a week or so. I am still undecided what the celebrations will look like. That said….
I am continuing my recorded poetry series today with a poem that was originally published in The Furious Gazelle. The Furious Gazelle is a super cool and eclectic journal, with editors whose artistic sensibilities have range, depth and flare. “Gold Lame'” is the first of three poems I was lucky to have published with them, along with a couple of essays.
My range as a writer may not be very expansive; I tend to write about just a few things. But, one of those things is my city, and in my city lives a wealth of characters to write about. All three of the poems in The Furious Gazelle were inspired by Hollywood…the real Hollywood.
Toothless ladies reign
over my Hollywood neighborhood,
holding court on street corners.
Gold lame’ and a slash of red lips,
she flicks you away like filth off skin
and barricades you from the
wreckage of her fortress.
She sits on a throne of fading glamour
and keeps watch over the tumble of
ravaged relics that house her memories.
She came to the city to be gild
and slathered in star light,
but settled for a crown of tin with
rubies made of glass.
It has been interesting, and a bit strange, resurrecting my older poems for the Recorded Poetry Series I started on YouTube. Although I hope I have grown as a writer and will continue to grow and evolve, the earlier poems, I think, create a foundation that I am grateful for. It can be enlightening to revisit beginnings, hold them gently and thoughtfully in your hand, rather than tear them apart.
This poem, published in the second issue of The Hungry Chimera, is called, “Paper Bag Dance”. You can read it and the entire second issue here. This is an exquisitely beautiful journal that I am proud to have been a part of.
Paper Bag Dance
City life enshrouds the girl in a paper bag.
She tucks herself in tightly
and shrinks from the onslaught of strangers
who walk briskly and have no eyes.
They rush through the grind,
living without the hesitation
that is born of curiosity.
She stumbles past shops,
staring into frosted panes and
disappears into her own reflection.
Waltzing behind the glass with a
stranger whose scent she longs to inhale,
she is liquid and light on her feet.
She reaches out to caress the strangers gown,
but her fingers press hard against
the brittle paper bag.