Poetry

NaPoWriMo Day 5: Unwanted Proposals

Go On, Just Ask

“What if I…”
His hand, so much larger than mine—so much
Everything about him was more

A too-hot day, a jewelry stand
Beetle-bright threadbare velvet and
a nondescript ring
we cared about for different reasons

NaPoWriMo Day 4: Cobbling it Together

"Mummified Body of Former Playboy Playmate Yvette Vickers Found in Her Benedict Canyon Home"

Nobody knows exactly how old she was when she died
She lay for the better part of a year
among
cobwebs and yellowing letters
laptop glow permeating the empty space

We must invite loneliness
come in, we say
obligatorily gregarious
a vampire no cross can scare

We become an accelerating contradiction
broader, shallower
vast beyond imagination
incomprehensible
Small enough
to fit in a palm
a pocket
a purse

Instant and absolute communication
yet
preserved in amber
our words, no longer wind
freeze, crystalized on our tongues

"How often do you feel...?"
Fill in your own blanks
Still hungering for response
with a patience I don't possess

Loneliness is slippery

NaPoWriMo Day 3: Questionable Line Breaks

Small Town

it’s late nights, cold
right though your coats
rubber soles on pavement

pave a heartbeat
scrub a phone number from your arm
and sit on black swings
until you lose feeling
until you lose feeling in your—
ass is what you should think
of him
shouldn’t you?

NaPoWriMo Day 2: Thinking of Snow

From an Empty Office in Winter

The day slipping down to slow motion
a blanket statement of snow
barely a whisper under this winter sun

All light and no heat
A smile that doesn’t reach the eyes

NaPoWriMo Day 1: A Lune in the Mountains

Unlikely Stairs

Every day but one
was sunny
Guess which one I chose?

Fog or smog, is there
much difference
when the flowers bloom?

Time to take the Nah out of NaPoWriMo!

It's beginning to feel that every time I post I have to start with an apology for being gone so long. At this point, is there really a...point? Does anyone really expect me to stick to a schedule, when I've never proven myself able to do such a thing? This distracting sidetracking is why I never get anything written, no doubt.

It's been a weird few months. I'm in a rut, just auto-piloting between school and work and work and Korean class and school. I know something needs to change in my life, but until I'm absolutely sure what it is, I don't want to do anything big. Hell, I'm even keeping myself from cutting my hair or changing the color drastically, which is a big step for me.

Korean Students Write the Darndest Things

Part of my job as a high school English teacher in South Korea involved giving out, and then correcting, weekly creative writing assignments. It quickly became one of my favorite parts of the experience, as it allowed my students to apply the language with more freedom and personality. It also helped me to get to know them in a more private way. From unintentionally funny remarks, to profound realizations, their writing was a joy to read.

Below is a small collection of some of my favorite excerpts. I’ve also taken the liberty of underscoring their messages with related images. Perhaps this could have been made into some sort of class project… Enjoy!


10 EPIK Haikus

As my year with EPIK comes to a close, I find myself thinking a lot about the experience. Below are 10 haikus that reflect what I’ve learned while living, teaching and traveling in South Korea (though really they’re applicable to anyone teaching or living abroad anywhere!).

 


Poetry Plus+ 41 Photos & Videos




After an eight year hiatus, Poetry Plus+ returned to Busan on June 27, 2015. 

The night included music, spoken word, theater, film, humor, & visual arts on all the big screens.

Check out photos and videos below.


Unending Love by Rabindranath Tagore

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.

Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, its age-old pain,
Its ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time:
You become an image of what is remembered forever.

You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers, shared in the same
Shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell-
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.


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