A little handout of made up invocations for the Odyssey (with apologies) credits: odysseus, penelope, telemachus, athena text: greig roselli © 2010 with apologies to the muses and to homer. |
Stones of Erasmus — Just plain good writing, teaching, thinking, doing, making, being, dreaming, seeing, feeling, building, creating, reading
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
22.3.10
Handout: Invocations Inspired by the Odyssey of Homer
Labels:
Books & Literature,
english language arts,
homer,
invocations,
literature,
odyssey,
poetry,
poets,
world literature
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
20.3.10
Poem: "Weight Problem"
A plump pudge gathered round
my navel,
a pink mound
peering and chuckling
over my pyjamas.
I poked my pinky into my flesh
a skin landscape, a planet of hair
laughing back at me
as I glided my razor across my
smooth gilette face.
my navel,
a pink mound
peering and chuckling
over my pyjamas.
I poked my pinky into my flesh
a skin landscape, a planet of hair
laughing back at me
as I glided my razor across my
smooth gilette face.
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
18.3.10
Poem: Rotten Avocados
the avocados were not yet ripe when I bought them.
but I found them ensconced in their own avocado skin, black as printed words;
and I remember the faint smell of hunger I had when purchasing them,
thinking they would be ripe and plump to eat.
© 2010 Greig Roselli
image credit: Wikimedia
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
14.3.10
Poem: Holy Water Font
when they come to the water on sunday it barely touches skin, smoothed over and onto the next thing,
honey, darling, sweetheart, dear, let’s park the car close, don’t forget the lights
but when this child touched the water
he slowly extended his arm and advanced
toward the font as if time itself, punctuated by the deliberate movement of his hand, slowed down
for him, so it
was very important
to dip into the water in this particular way, middle finger first,
then the rest,
a little playfully, but not too much so,
enough
to withdraw
his hand and cross himself
enough to convince that he saw something in the depths that I didn’t see, not before not since, only scant reflection: once after reading something from the 19th century did I ever feel similar
but he did see something of
the trinity
and I suspect the whole revolving sphere of fluid stood still like in some mediaeval astronomy book
and he was able to stop time, for a bit,
because he was grinning,
drops of holy water falling to the granite floor
and someone like his dad picking up his five-year-old body to the pew, replete with a jesus coloring book and an entrance hymn.
honey, darling, sweetheart, dear, let’s park the car close, don’t forget the lights
but when this child touched the water
he slowly extended his arm and advanced
toward the font as if time itself, punctuated by the deliberate movement of his hand, slowed down
for him, so it
was very important
to dip into the water in this particular way, middle finger first,
then the rest,
a little playfully, but not too much so,
enough
to withdraw
his hand and cross himself
enough to convince that he saw something in the depths that I didn’t see, not before not since, only scant reflection: once after reading something from the 19th century did I ever feel similar
but he did see something of
the trinity
and I suspect the whole revolving sphere of fluid stood still like in some mediaeval astronomy book
and he was able to stop time, for a bit,
because he was grinning,
drops of holy water falling to the granite floor
and someone like his dad picking up his five-year-old body to the pew, replete with a jesus coloring book and an entrance hymn.
Labels:
poetry
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
9.3.10
Poem: The Porter Cat
soft and malleable;
I stroke the porter cat
when he lingers near the patio,
spreads his body on my lap and I tell him that he’s home;
his leonine form stretched from end to end;
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
21.2.10
Prose Poem: Quote from My Moleskine
In this post, I include a prose poem fragment fount in my Moleskine notebook.
The empty tomb startles me as I know
it startled Mary
~#~
When wishing upon a star be sure to want what you really desire; for desire materializes
Location:Cohn St, New Orleans,United States
A couple rides the New York City subway. |
it startled Mary
~#~
When wishing upon a star be sure to want what you really desire; for desire materializes
Location:Cohn St, New Orleans,United States
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
29.1.10
Poem: "apple-faced kids"
the apple-faced kids
rush to class
not to learn
but to whiz in their heads
the wonders of the world
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
25.1.10
Poem: "nursing home"
her lying, sheets thin, mattress barely a support
she dying
glistening fluorescent light a harsh reveal
of her ruddy body, bare
save for the taffeta pajamas,
a crispy swath of rose embers,
issued by a crisis,
yet, her mouth curved a bit, sitting next to her -- so low --
i felt gravity’s relentless tug
and she curved, wincing at the pain,
although it hurt; a scissor-like pain throughout her entire frame,
she said it was okay;
her hair, long and brown like spaghetti string,
matted by the months of neglectful uncombing;
her beauty an archetypal beauty, matching the faces of every woman who was,
his, an is, an unmediated face of pathos lines, matching every face of those who are
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
24.1.10
Fragment: The Moon Shines Bright
Labels:
fragment,
moon,
poetry,
visual art
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
23.1.10
Me, describing him
face scrunched into the shape of an oval —
he thinks with his jaw set"
Labels:
description,
friends,
friendship,
memoir,
poetic tone,
poetry
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
1.1.10
Poem: Four Loves
The shrink’s nose told me to read The Four Loves
so i did
i read the whole book in two sittings,
even the bibliography,
well,
sorta −
and pondered the book’s message,
you know,
how there are four loves,
according to the greeks,
those sexy helens
and
like how i used to love diecast cars and bowling
and now i mainly instant message.
how i used to love you in some other symbol,
how i used to gaze on you and blush.
how you ran away and closed the book.
how i came to sit and read
wonderin’ where it all went,
me,
stitching together a story
i read the whole book in two sittings,
even the bibliography,
well,
sorta −
and pondered the book’s message,
you know,
how there are four loves,
according to the greeks,
those sexy helens
and
like how i used to love diecast cars and bowling
and now i mainly instant message.
how i used to love you in some other symbol,
how i used to gaze on you and blush.
how you ran away and closed the book.
how i came to sit and read
wonderin’ where it all went,
me,
stitching together a story
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
30.12.09
Poem: Another Kind Of Cave?
when it seems you have been cut out from
construction paper,
block speckled primary color green,
a carved-out human form,
when it seems as if identity has been placed on the shelving,
— fleshed-out and unread —
what, instead,
walks around in its place is the abstract me
with abstract legs and triangular feet,
a circle standing in for a noggin,
made by a bunch of kindergarten scholars,
a veritable platonic form,
that forgot about its meat on the shelf,
cautiously rotting
So I go and pick up my half-smelly carcass,
filed between a copy of
jane eyre and buddingbrooks,
and slap my self around a bit like a butcher with
a premium slice,
salve a healthy dose of vinegar to spicen up
my languishing corpuscles,
jimmy into my corpse once again as if it were a
union suit
nostalgically lined to my handsome rectangle;
Labels:
abstract,
philosophy,
poem,
poetry
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
29.12.09
Poem: "to beget"
the world does not provoke the world is provoked
so
does “the
world is too much with us”
mean
don’t be materialistic
?
or does it mean something like
there is nothing out there to catch the eye
because “we lay waste our powers …”
(to say something inside is a better argument, wordsworth?)
which is why giving up on nature walks is probably a good thing
the ants have nothing to say
“Little we see in Nature that is ours”
are not perturbed really by being stared at,
or the moth
even the stumbled upon lizard,
pitifully its glistening eyeball falling out of its manacled socket
is not sorry does not get its feelings hurt if moved off the pavement
the same if accidentally stepped on
or Wordsworth is writing about arrogance , here
the panache of human beings to believe us so provocative!
something like prometheus stealing fire; his goddamn hubris —
for does he really think the tritons managed
such a gaze can he be that trite?
does “the
world is too much with us”
mean
don’t be materialistic
?
or does it mean something like
there is nothing out there to catch the eye
because “we lay waste our powers …”
(to say something inside is a better argument, wordsworth?)
which is why giving up on nature walks is probably a good thing
the ants have nothing to say
“Little we see in Nature that is ours”
are not perturbed really by being stared at,
or the moth
even the stumbled upon lizard,
pitifully its glistening eyeball falling out of its manacled socket
is not sorry does not get its feelings hurt if moved off the pavement
the same if accidentally stepped on
or Wordsworth is writing about arrogance , here
the panache of human beings to believe us so provocative!
something like prometheus stealing fire; his goddamn hubris —
for does he really think the tritons managed
such a gaze can he be that trite?
Labels:
memoir,
nature,
poem,
poetry,
prometheus,
wordsworth
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
28.12.09
Poem: "When I woke up your eyes were on me"
When I woke up your eyes were on me,
like a gentle rush of waves,
as if you had been studying me this whole time,
my face an open book
(even though i was feigning sleep)
your eyes
set into the
palette of your familiar face,
your lips curved into a curious smile
and you blinked
and I yawned and complained, wishing I hadn’t fallen asleep, but I had
done so
and
and then without a word you closed your eyes
and went to sleep again
and I, ever the paternal wannabe,
touched your back
and prayed you would be alright
and wished you were still awake
so the story could begin where we had
left off
our eyes leveled near one another,
lolling softly another to sleep,
bedtime stories fulfilled
as if you had been studying me this whole time,
my face an open book
(even though i was feigning sleep)
your eyes
set into the
palette of your familiar face,
your lips curved into a curious smile
and you blinked
and I yawned and complained, wishing I hadn’t fallen asleep, but I had
done so
and
and then without a word you closed your eyes
and went to sleep again
and I, ever the paternal wannabe,
touched your back
and prayed you would be alright
and wished you were still awake
so the story could begin where we had
left off
our eyes leveled near one another,
lolling softly another to sleep,
bedtime stories fulfilled
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
27.12.09
As If
Labels:
poetry
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
Poem: "Regional Transit Authority"
Labels:
imagery,
poem,
poetry,
public transportation,
subway
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
26.12.09
Poem: "Georgia"
Labels:
Drag Queens,
poetry
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
25.12.09
Bleach
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
24.12.09
Poem: Juice Stained Man
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
Poem: "I never knew how to date"
At the ballpark, the stadium swells with people,
I never knew the arcane rituals,
the runic scripts, the book of love –
never knew the caress of the cheek,
the hand on your face
before.
Never put to rote the rubrics
of subtle peck and pay the bill
before.
Only spontaneous embraces
like best friends at supper.
Sloppy kisses over sloppy joes.
Daubed anxiety
Doggerel verse
Silly adolescence clamoring for whatchamacallit and nachos,
pulling your pigtails,
mommy.
I am like a kid getting married in the street.
I am bereft of courtship vocabulary,
the “how do I take your hand” svelte.
The “When do I call for a date?” anxiety.
How do I undo your pants,
Meet your folks –
Do I call you at work?
Should I hold your hand during the national anthem?
Or do I clap your back?
I am like the boy playing grown-up in the playpen,
dressed up like Donna Reed,
My plastic skin peeling
and during the ninth inning your child stares
Eating a nodog
I had bought ten minutes before.
Awkward smiles and nonchalance,
No runs batted in and take me out to the ballgame.
but
I never knew how to date.
I only knew the camaraderie of a slap on the back,
a troubled smear on the cheek,
an intimate pantomime of swelled emotion.
I never knew how to date.
I only knew the camaraderie of a slap on the back,
a troubled smear on the cheek,
an intimate pantomime of swelled emotion.
I never knew the arcane rituals,
the runic scripts, the book of love –
never knew the caress of the cheek,
the hand on your face
before.
Never put to rote the rubrics
of subtle peck and pay the bill
before.
Only spontaneous embraces
like best friends at supper.
Sloppy kisses over sloppy joes.
Daubed anxiety
Doggerel verse
Silly adolescence clamoring for whatchamacallit and nachos,
pulling your pigtails,
mommy.
I am like a kid getting married in the street.
I am bereft of courtship vocabulary,
the “how do I take your hand” svelte.
The “When do I call for a date?” anxiety.
How do I undo your pants,
Meet your folks –
Do I call you at work?
Should I hold your hand during the national anthem?
Or do I clap your back?
I am like the boy playing grown-up in the playpen,
dressed up like Donna Reed,
My plastic skin peeling
and during the ninth inning your child stares
Eating a nodog
I had bought ten minutes before.
Awkward smiles and nonchalance,
No runs batted in and take me out to the ballgame.
Labels:
baseball,
boyfriends,
friends,
friendship,
poem,
poetry
I am an educator and a writer. I was born in Louisiana and I now live in the Big Apple. My heart beats to the rhythm of "Ain't No Place to Pee on Mardi Gras Day". My style is of the hot sauce variety. I love philosophy sprinkles and a hot cup of café au lait.
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