Crazy Real

the official blog of author and poet Jennifer Wilson

Month: April 2016 (page 2 of 2)

Poem #7

Letting Go

Everything dies
everything breaks
and nothing remains
except for the ache
for the what-might-have-been
and the things that are lost
in the passage of time
as the bridges are crossed
and some of them burn
and all of them sway
in the swift wind of change
with every new day
So the heart must let go
of the things that can’t stay
as they fall to the ground
and slowly decay.

Poem #6

Tell Me

Tell me I’m pretty
tell me I’m fine
tell me you’ll always
forever be mine

Tell me you need me
tell me it’s true
tell me this yearning
is truer than true

Tell me you love me
from your very core
tell me you want me
and I’ll want no more.

This and That

So I’m going on Friday to Austin to read my poem aloud before I have no idea how many people. I’ve never done something like this before, so I am NERVOUS. Here is the poem that’s going into the anthology…I’m trying to memorize it so I don’t have to have a paper in my hand while I’m reciting it.

The Moon

The moon is tangled in the trees
abandoned there by autumn breeze;

she cries aloud but no one knows
the noise above the sound of crows

all rising now to take their flight
against the winter’s lonely night.

I stand and gaze upon her face
and understand the words she says:

her terror of the coming frost,
her sorrow at the dreams she lost,
her fear of beauty fading fast
her knowledge that no joy can last
her vision dimming with the dawn,
her freedom being all but gone.

Her halo spreads like arms aloft
beseeching to once more be tossed

upon the sea of atmosphere
away from grounded woe and tears.

But wedged in branch and caught in leaf
the wind is but a bitter thief

to leave the precious, lovely thing
a bauble on a broken string.

Poem 5

Peace
lies
in knowing
you are loved
in knowing
some things
are incontrovertible
that they
remain
though all else fades
and shakes
and
when the heart cringes
love
relentlessly pursues
until fear is put to rest
love
whispers
be still
be here
be mine.

Rise

(Fourth poem for National Poetry Month.)

 
I’m much, much too happy
To pen a sad verse
There’s naught in my psyche
That’s bad or perverse
 
The sky is too bluesome
The sun is too shiny
To wax melancholy
Or spout much that’s whiny
 
All nature seeks now
To upheave and renew
And so shall I also
Trade old for the new
 
Switch sorrow for joy
Change darkness for light
With help from all ‘round
Keep up the good fight
 
The past is a bitch
and continuously calls
Awaiting the day
That I stumble and fall
 
But if that should happen
(Or should I say when)
I’ll brush off the dust
And rise once again.

April 3rd

Poem #3 in honor of National Poetry Month, one per day, as promised…
 
The day is all blue
and white
and bright
with sunshine
and things blooming
and I sit
hearing the birds
calling from the trees
the living things
seeking to renew
their bonds with one another
and all of creation
is alive and buzzing
and I sit
and wish
for my own life
to be half as
exciting.

Poetry, take two

One poem per day, for National Poetry Month!

Beer is here,
right here, there’s beer
hoppy, malty, crisp and cold
causing cheer
beer. 
It makes you giddy
gets you tiddly
never shitty
beer.
Makes you fat
what about that?
Never mind,
just unwind
and you’ll find
it’s just fine
have a frosted glass
of beer.

Poetry, Schmoetry

April is National Poetry Month! For a poet such as myself, that’s cool news. In honor of the esteemed event, I will be posting a poem per day here on my blog. Check in to see what sort of genius transpires! Here’s the first:

Writing is good
writing is fine
writing well borders
upon the divine
you can write in the morning
or even at night
you can write what is heavy
or that which is light
you can write what is fiction
or that which is true
you can write your memoirs
and hope no one will sue
you can write on a keyboard
or with a good pen
you can write in a coffee shop
or a deep, wooded glen
just write, and keep writing
no matter the thought
you will stand amazed
at the thing you have wrought
for writing is life
it makes my heart sing
no matter what else
writing’s the thing.

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