New Math?

I've read from time to time people making comparisons between poetry and mathematics, which on the surface seems so totally unlikely. To me personally, I've never been proficient in math with anything beyond the basics and don't find it interesting at all. So naturally, such comparisons don't seem to fit for me. In addition, I see math as very static, poetry as any art, seems to defy such description. So when I come across this quote, I am especially amused: The formula 'Two and two make five' is not without its attractions ~ Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Fell off the NaPoWriMo Wagon

I did it.... I'm confessing and hopping to climb back on. My daughter and her new fiance flew in to town Thursday evening and just left to go back to Arizona this afternoon. It was our first time meeting Derek. Of course if Meghan had been alone it too would have been distracting from poetry. I'm not complaining. I'm glad we had the time with them. I'm just saying that a poem draft a day was not going to survive this event.

So there, I'm bad. I've failed. And now I've gotten it off my chest. Tomorrow is a new day and I'm ready to get going again.

Day 10: My NaPoWriMo blog released from the grips of bloger at last

A spiked presence—

Before my eyes
A star with supplementary credentials
Far more prickly a presence

A perverse way of making points
And overload of opinion
Not at all shy of expression

The tentacles of the nucleus
Of radiant light
Obliquely insane

Day 9 ~ Accessorizing

Accessorizing

The shuffle of shoes—
Black pumps, red sling backs;
The ruffle of the lips—
Earth tone hikers and aqua fluff flops…
Just a few stepping out
Across my mind.

A casual tennis shoe—
You need several colors
To accessorize; if you know what I mean.

I pity women in third would countries.
I mean when you only have a single pair
You’re so limited with your wardrobe.

Poetry CD Give-A-Way

Check out the blog - Best Words in Their Best Order

Day 8 - Untitled draft

Untitled

Uncorked and non-confrontational
An evening slumping gingerly
Into shades of melancholy
Befriends me and embraces
The many reasons lacking interest
In commitment to any plans tonight.

A hum of snow on TV
And nothing else in particular.
The phone may or may not have rang

Earlier. I was settled into the nights dip.
My hand has held the stem of crystal
But nothing else has required my energy.
A sip on occasion. A hint of pear and oak.
Buttery perhaps, if you say so,
I don’t recall—

There is a presence stronger than I—
Inescapable.

Even in a night of solitude
I am not without the presence of old age.
A shadowy figure that is at a distant
But not too much so
And he maintains a horizontal view
Of the future.