Musings

Dove-gray ridges cup
the pearly underbelly;
lovely yet empty.

I know I've been all about the haikus these days. There is a reason for that. They are fast and they are easy. They allow me to keep my creative brain functioning juuuuuuuuuust enough so it doesn't completely atrophy from disuse. For this year's National Poetry Month, however, I'd like to challenge my lazy brain a little bit more. Haikus are all well and good, but this girl here got her Masters in English/Creative Writing with a portfolio of original poetry as her final project. I think it's high time I start banging out some longer form poems, and April is just as good an excuse as any to try.

BUT since my creative brain is, as previously mentioned, close to atrophy — I still need to start small.

That said...


Blank Page

The clean sheet is a promise.
A bright expanse
of perfect, unbroken white
unblemished by scratches,
scribbles, long black scars.
Mistakes.
And that is why
it is terrifying.

by Megan Mullin, 4/2/2013


See? Too easy. Which is why I need to do better.

Water heavy and
dark presses in. You’re drowning.
Find the light — reach up.

Spend my days walking
across a field of land mines.
Wincing at each step.

Floorboards groan, windows
shudder against sills, lonely
homes grow angry at night.

Arms, legs, stomach, head,
eyes, mind, heart. There is no part
of me not weighed down.

Kindle a fire
in your belly. Its power
will keep the soul warm.

Snow-cloaked branches curl
across bright skies, white and blue
like Dutch porcelain.

The scene: Bathtime. The MUNCHKIN is in the tub, I am sitting next to said tub.

MUNCHKIN: Mommy, let's play Batman. I'm Batman. You be a bad guy.

ME: Ok, how about I be Catwoman?

MUNCHKIN: Ok!

ME: Um. Hahaha! I am going to steal all the jewelry in town! No one can stop me!

MUNCHKIN: I'm Batman! (points a plastic spoon at me)

ME: Oh! Batman! Ok, I give up. You got me!

MUNCHKIN: *grins*

ME: Are you going to take me to jail now?

MUNCHKIN: Nope.

ME: Oh, thanks. You're very nice, Batman.

MUNCHKIN: Would you marry me?

ME: ...

ME: Ok! That sounds much better than jail.

Fin.


(And we've apparently entered the Oedipus stage.)

Sometimes, the ache is
buried much too deep behind
your eyes. Just close them.