couple's dream

we continue to dream
in a network of small blankets

that fail in regular rotation
to hid the odd pair of feet -

the two lefts - hanging
over the edge of the queen bed.

girl's dream

she imagined how he'd imagined her
in a sweater and neon band-aids

trying to picture the landscape
in wool and plastic and cogs

and tried to see past the horizon
where he said the river lay

where he saw her in his own eyes
and fell in love with her

but her dreams are not compatible
and she did not see herself

but her mother and her grandmother
in the place of the plastic water

his heart stitched back in wool
and knots throbbed in pain

she wanted to believe him
and dream in his beautiful way

but she could not believe in his fantasy
or swim across his plastic river

so she asked him if they couldn't be
together under a real life tree

boy's dream

let me take you, he said
softly, whispering sweetly

a gentle boy with messy hair
and electric shoes on both feet

to the place
where my dreams often go

so i can show you the river
where i saw you

in my own reflection
before we met

so you can believe me
and love me then

he held his heart
bleeding and pink in his hand

he held it out to me
to take and keep

he said, keep it,
it's yours

if you don't want it
then neither do i

i put it back inside him
and took his cleaner hand

show me your reflection
and then i will decide

kitty's first crimbo

crunchy christmas blessings

so i'm sitting here, filling out a couple happy crimbo cards
when all of a sudden
**cRuNcH!**
i look over at max
to see him chewing on a little green christmas light!!!
now, they must be plastic, right?
he wasn't bleeding or anything,
and he was totally after having another one once that one went down.
he's part demon i think.
what cat eats chrismas lights!?!

gomez video

not christmassy, but ryan and i did spend christmas in england last year. we stayed in manchester for a few days before heading to derby to see his family. it's a lovely city.
i sort of wish we were going again this year... but i'm also glad we're getting to spend time with my family this holiday.

and, it's a cute video.

max says:

C v’-;
™®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®
®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®
®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®
®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®
®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®
®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®®™

bring on the holiday spirit

i dare you. pogues and all.



above: one of, if not *the* best holiday song of all time ever.
and... i love kristy mccoll to pieces!

treble

new post/poem on {pilot-eye}
click on title above for enjoyment

max's new doo

he had a long visit with the vet this friday gone past. they had to give him some drugs intravenously and had to put him asleep to do so. what they also had to do was give him this new hair cut...




poor little fella looks completely pathetic.

the good news is, max is doing great. he's into the whole catnip scene and has been playing and meowing and jumping and doing all sorts of max things ^_^ so even though he looks a bit silly, we're very very happy with how he's doing.

nizlopi

craig's been posting all sorts of videos on his blog. i'm a copy cat. and i am liking nizlopi lots (they did the jcb song). and so here's something "extraordinary"...

she comes to me
un-inordinate and simple

a present

and though i least suspected her then
i welcomed her and kept her openly



(i'm supposed to be writing a paper, not poems. erg.)

broken twig

our mind branches out

pigeons on separate journeys
to the same location

the flesh on our chests
dissimilar in shape -
in volume -
but dedicated to the same want

for that touching moment
when it's okay this time
to erect a nipple
or make lips bleed fresh blood

this is all for the wanting
the sucking and sticking and smelling

we just have different ways
of going about the asking

auntie katy

^_^ my sister is gonna be a mommy!
which means i'm gonna be an auntie ^_^

brown thumbs

when i water flowers in real life
they don't spring back to life in an instant,

but in video games
they do.

subject: cement smelling

there is Portuguese on the white-board
that reads 'i do not speak Portuguese'
and a piano in the center of the room

chairs and stands surrounding it and me

and so i hide in the pit

for a while - accidentally
scratching the cut on my shin

in this moment i bleed and cradle the scab
like an orphan would on the cushion of my ring-finger

where the nail has grown too long

now, in the same color as Portuguese
i write 'marie survived john's death in Portuguese'

and fail better at playing the halloween theme
on the sullen piano in the cement room

swarm with me

experimental gameplay project is a remarkable website with lots of downloadable (.exe type files) and easy to enjoy game projects such as the swarm.

what's so magnificent about the swarm is that a)you get to swoop little people up into the air and watch them splat - this provokes a primal sense of gratification and b) the music is lovely, soothing, ahh.

perfect for a quick play, especially when feeling stressed.

if you click on the image, it should prompt you to download the exe file, once this is downloaded you're ready to run and play!

168.0 is my top splatter velocity. what's yours?

lethargy

i resort to mine -
a cup of tea and leonard cohen
____on the

and off agian -

happy birthday Ashraf!!

bah humbug already?

it's december. which, it seems, most people interpret as "it's christmas".

december DOES NOT EQUAL christmas

am already feeling holiday pressure, and none of the holiday spirit. don't want to listen to carols, don't want to go shopping, don't want to rake the yard before it snows.

besides, december is full of holidays that come before chirstmas... like International Ashraf Day and My Mom's Birthday, and My Sister's Birthday and i think the corgi has his birthday this month too. oye, that's just the immediate family... my twin cousins celebrate their birth in december, so do two of my grandad's. why is jesus's birthday so special, eh? i don't even know him >__<

so in honor of december, but not christmas; here's something not at all christmassy in nature...

ah, yeah, you, shhhh. they don't need to know it was "christmas number one" last year on the brit charts.

the strawberry plant

a man and woman
his wife

argued

until the woman
plunged through the door

under threat of violence

and wept as she ran
through the surrounding forest

guilt ridden

and soon concerned
he followed her trail

guided

by strawberry plants
in the shapes of footprints

left in her wake

and when he found her
he apologized


and so today we keep a strawberry plant in our home

as a reminder and charm
and we do not fight.

ringing in the 23rd

no need to be coy or clever here. today, sincerity is better served. this is the 3rd time i've hosted the ringing of the bards on somethingkaty. i also orchestrated the wet ringing of the bards not very long ago. i'm not new at this. nevertheless, i am still inspired by the poets who write and submit for these weekly gatherings. i've come to appreciate the ringing of the bards as though it were the blogosphere equivalent of sunday dinner at my mom's house.

considering, too, how near to thanksgiving this ringing comes (albeit a bit late), and considering how much i am truly grateful for right now, let's have ourselves a little feast. this one's not got any turkey though (i'm sure, no matter how much you like turkey, you've had enough by now); instead, let's fill up on poetry!

to start, i had emailed a few of my favorite poets in regards to this particular bards once our mayor billy confirmed my position as bardess (thanks for that title, brian, i love it!). in my email i mentioned the recent drama involving my lovely little kitten (all of 7 months old) Max and his new struggle with cancer. it's been all i've talked about here on somethingkaty the past few weeks, so there's no need for me to detail it again. i would, however, like to ask anyone reading this bards to take a moment and appreciate, with a little more care, the life surrounding them. if you have a pet cat, a dog, a fish, a turtle, or you like to bird watch; take a moment to admire all the joy and beauty in the small living creatures surrounding you. that's my gift to you. what max gave to me. every time i look at him, curled up on the sofa or playing with a bottle cap, i take a moment to appriciate the mere fact that i can see his chest fill and empty evenly with air. just knowing that he's well and playful as a kitten ought to be. and i get to appreciate how much joy and wonder he brings me every moment he's near me.

may sound sappy, but hell, we're poets!!

and now, on with the theivery (oh the what? i thought we were supposed to give thanks?)

i stole a poem from ashraf's blog, but i don't really think he'll mind. he's in france at the moment, having a well deserved holiday with his ummi. (am looking forward to having you back, dear!)

the poem of ashraf's that i borrowed for the carnival is called The Space Below Us. in keeping with the theme of thankfulness, ashraf is one of my favorite people and has influenced my views on poetry, on blogging and on the world. thank you dear. shukran.

next is a special delivery from brian boutwell; another blogging poet who's bond with me reaches beyond the blogosphere. (his blog is extinct now, save for one story; it's a shame if you missed it, but i'm in negotiations with the southern poet to put his work on paper):

FOR L.N. AND L.Z.
Sterling 17 jewels
Illinois pocket
watch, 1926:
____only ticks
if kept wound.

waves come in threes. so do good poets.
and so below are three fine poets with three poems each. three boys who go above and beyond the call of duty.

first in the wave is craig s perez writing out of berkeley. another poet, ah yes, another one, who i've gotten to know and admire. thanks, most graciously, to the lovely yasmin for introducing us both into the wet family.

c.s. sent me 3 poems. don't know if he intended for me to include all three, but here they are (they're not posted on his blog; therefore, the poems appear here at full length. they will be available via chap sooner or later, right craig?)

from "The Ghost of The Harvest Madonna"

1.

Tears of the Madonna, the Hunger and Other Stories: a boy with an allergy to ghosts has trouble with too-logical teachers who say ghosts don’t exist. To celebrate the autumn harvest, the boy claims he had seen his real father’s ghost. When the grains had been collected, the harvest was stored in the silo, but I am saying your vitriol towards Madonna seems out of control. “Madonna Rescues Malawian Child – only 12 Million to Go.” Shine on, shine on harvest moon up in the sky, I ain’t had no lovin’ since January. What the hell is up with the political testimony: the history of how the Sanctuary was built. Ghost nights; God visited his garden; Machine harvest; for what I am and what I harvest through my suffering. Madonna of the Ridge Road. Machines seize the soil.

2.

I’ve got you walking with a ghost. Not tonight, let it be. On Monday Monday Monday. I shall have to quickly immerse myself in an orgy of Madonna listening, much like a harvest festival really. Ghost of Perdition. According to tradition, every night the ghost in the statue of the Madonna is decorated with precious dresses. It might be OK to show Madonna hanging on a mirrored cross, in vernacular tantrums. Halfway through the soup course, the boy recognized the Ghost and invited him to sit and help out with the harvest season on the moisture farm.

3.

In a nutshell, the Harvest plays like grand theft auto: playfulness (‘blanket-vision’ or the godawful-creepy) fell flat. The Harvest as the sultry blonde who likes to dance. When you think about it, Madonna is the most ridiculous lawmaker. “The boy wants to shoot Madonna into space.” BEST. HEADLINE. EVER. Hell, I'd even contribute to the slush fund, provided they agree not to bring to mind ‘trans-humanist identity experience’. Special gratitude is offered to the boy.

the second wave in the pack is made of stone. a strictly mysterious fella with a warm heart and a soft spot for kittens, he's sent me three poems about cats in honor of max and this particular ringing of the bards.

Twelve Cats

Coal-eyed Friend

& Our Wanderer Returns about stone's little kitten Blinky who, it would seem, had quite the adventure just the other day!

and the third wave is from none other than our man Russell Ragsdale of Yuckelbel's Canon. much like his poems, every encounter with Russell is an enjoyable moment. and you're always an eager and willing participant for my ringings, aren't you Russell? ^_^

Brighter and Wiser

Somnambulist

& Recriminations

the wave is over, but we still have three poets to be thankful for...

Keith of When I Wax provides me with an appropriately titled Host Meditation (also called "Breadchewing"). Keith brings the bread and musings to compliment. a perfect piece for a poetic feast, without a doubt.

next, the man who makes this whole party possible, Billy! without his dedication and enthusiasm for bringing poets together, there'd be no ringing and no call for celebrating one another's work. i certainly am, and i'm sure everyone else within our blogging poet community feels similar if not the same, truly grateful for everything you do for us and everything you do for the art.

our mayor Billy the Blogging Poet supplies a seg-way in to the up-coming holiday season with Christmas, Stuck on Red. and as always, billy amuses to no end.

last but certainly not least... i don't know if you noticed, but there's nothing but male bodies around the table... until Shirley steps up!
unfortunately though, the link she sent me in her email required a password, so i'm not sure exactly which poem she meant for me to host here. instead of just one then, and to help balance this party out a little, here are 3 (it's a thematic number, at this point) of Shirley's most recent poems!

Ocean View

Warm Thoughts

& Giving Thanks

and before i leave you to the next host (by the way, there is no next host lined up, so if you want to play, billy at idleblogs (at) yahoo.com), i just want to say thank you. thank you for reading, for submitting, for caring.

affectionately yours. bardess.


addendum: the last day by shirley of housemouse. this is the poem she had intended for the ringing. thank you shirley!

last call

am taking sudmissions for the 23rd ringing of the bards all night

-

the ringing will be rung tomorrow morning

(whenever i happen to roll out of bed)

TWENTY THREE

i will be hosting the up-and-coming ringing of the bards: episode 23!

please email your submissions to:
kaacheson @ yahoo . co . uk (less the spaces)

ryan got his today

po'et'ship: latest post.

if it's not one thing, it's the other

a brief update on max's condition and other things pertaining:

he's doing alright. we were a bit worried monday when we woke up to a few separate piles of kitty throw up, and he was acting very tired again. the vet told us not to worry when i spoke to her, and he went in for some more fluids this afternoon. we're being very cautious with him, obviously. every move he makes we watch. both out of concern and gratitude for still having him. we want anything but to take him granted; especially now.

while max is on the slow and bumpy road to getting well, ryan is all sorts of aching and ouchy. he's in bed now, trying to sleep and had to take the day off work. i hope he doesn't have anything like what he had in february. that was a miserable month for him, and for me.

hugs for both my boyos (((max))) & (((ryan)))

as for me, i just have a little head cold - nothing that's going to stop me or even really slow me down.

and have been reading the lovely mina loy and some past simple.

read coconut poetry for fun

coconut poetry

plentiful on sweet

lance of 3by3by3 emailed me a few weeks ago (was it even that long ago?) and introduced me to his little project wherein poets write one poem consisting of 3 stanzas 3 lines each and composed of (in terms of content) 3 news articles from google news on any one day. and so, i participated.

the poem is up and can be reached by clicking the title to this post. do enjoy.

yes, more about max

today he's been eating both his wet food and his dry food (yay). he didn't put up too much resistance to the pill he has to have shoved down his throat once every day. he's been a bit more active today than yesterday still. he's sleeping a bit less and seems more interested in ryan and my activities. right now he is being cute, playing with a little spring i found in the basement.
he's looking a lot less scraggly and scruffy too, which is great. he's such a handsome kitty. no pictures for this post, although i took a couple of cute ones of max and ryan watching an old bond film. i'll post those some other time.
'tis all. he's still doing well, and our spirits are high.

in other news, ryan bought the last three wii-motes from bestbuy today. wii seems more popular than nintendo anticipated? or just the retailers? i'm very much looking forward to fishing in the new zelda and bowling ^_^

kitty =^_^= update

happy saturday all. yesterday max spent 6 hours at the vet's. he got his first full dose of chemo, some more fluids, and ryan and i got given some pills to give him once a day for the rest of the week. max will be going in again on wednesday for some blood work and again on friday for his next full dose of chemo.

max doesn't has have leukemia according to the blood work done. he might have it in his bone marrow, but if that's then case (and we're hoping it's not) than there's nothing we'd be able to do for him because you can only treat the leukemia or the lymphoma, not both. just diagnosis for bone marrow leukemia is about $300, which we're not keen on having done to beginning with, so we're going with the lymphoma treatment full on and praying for the best.

also, found out that he weighs 5lbs9oz - he's so little.

when we brought him home last night he was sticky and smelly and tired and feeble. i was nervous about his condition. he was the epitome of pathetic. ryan and i just let him sleep though, and went to see my dad for his birthday. we came home and he was still sleeping.

at some point in the night max must have gotten up and ate some of his canned food, which is great. as ryan and i started getting out of bed, max came out from under the bed too. he stretched and we could tell right away that he was looking better. he seemed to have cleaned himself over night too. he'd been looking really scruffy. he looks a little scruffy still, but much less so.


max ate more food when he got up. he followed us down stairs and even had some cheese with me this morning.

he's looking pretty good. he seems well. definatly not any worse at least.


i'll continue to keep everyone updated via my blog.

as of right now, max is playing with an ant.

p.s. for poetry, go to piloteye

more on max

so my blog's turned into a journal about max, almost like a "normal" blog. this is partially due to the fact that i haven't been writing very much along the lines of poetry, so i haven't anything to post. i can't force myself to write in extremely emotional movements. i don't write poetry for therapy and i don't write good poetry when i'm sad or upset or anxious. i did write two rather unhappy poems on piloteye a few days ago. and there's still buttons up at the wet. also, for poetry-related reading, c.s. has been revealing the recidivist manifesto over the past few days... part 1, part 2, part 3 & part 4 (with more to come).

nothing as really changed with max over the past few days. yesterday i took him to the vet so they could do some blood work. they're testing him for leukemia again. i'm not sure how much will change for our situation if he does have leukemia, but i know that it will change things; there'll be that one other thing to fix.

he's quiet, tired, a little bit scruffy and he's unfriendly towards anyone but ryan and i. my sister meg was over last night along with her boyo chris and my brother mike to celebrate my birthday. when meg went to pet max he hissed at her and wet upstairs under the bed.

he is going to the bathroom regularly, which is important. he's eating. he even had some of his dry food last night. he is still spitting up a lot though, which is causing him to be dehydrated. yesterday at the vet they had to give him some liquids via injection. he's not drinking water to compensate for the spitting up. i tried to mix some chicken broth to his water, but that didn't seem to interest him one bit. maybe later i'll try beef broth. he's not like a child who we could verbally force to drink anything. max just doesn't want to drink his water, no matter what flavor it is.

so today i am to drop him off at the vet's at noon time, and he's going to get his first dose of chemo. they're going to keep him there fore a few hours to watch for any reactions (positive or negative). and so i guess i'll let you all know later today if he has leukemia or not. other than that, i don't think much is going to change right away.

lymphoma was the good news

okay, where do i start?

the end i guess... maxerodenfoe has kitty cancer.

on friday i took him to the vet to be neutered. i mentioned over the phone a few days prior that he didn't seem to be feeling very well. he'd been spitting up clear colorless bile and seemed to be sleeping a lot. because of this, instead of being neutered, the vet saw him for an exam. the first assumption was that he may have eaten something he shouldn't have... like string or a hair elastic like the one that had recently gone missing. so an x ray was needed.

i waited around, nervous as ever over max's little tummy.

once the x rays came back the vet started explaining the x ray to me. his tummy and intestines were perfectly fine. but in his upper chest there was white where there was meant to be black - fluid where there was meant to be air. at least... she thought it was fluid.

assuming what was in max was fluid the vet asked to keep max for the morning into the afternoon to take a sample from his chest to see if it was internal bleeding or if perhaps max had this awful thing called f.i.p.. i called ryan, all choked up and he came right home from work. at that moment is when we both began thinking max might have to be put down, and at such a young age (he's only just turned 7 months old). we waited impatiently, nervously, for the vet's reply by phone. more than anything we wanted to bring max home and have him with us.

my phone rang at a little before 3pm. the vet told me that she was "mystified" by max. the white in his chest was not fluid, it is a hard mass.

we went to pick max up at 4. the vet had had to shave a couple square inches of fur of either side of him just behind his front legs. he was tired, his tail was flared. he was not a happy kitty. we were so pleased to have him home though, even though we didn't know what was going on.



the vet said she would take his x rays to a clinic near by and send the small fluid sample she got out of max to a pathology lab.

on saturday morning the vet called us. she's dedicated so much to figuring out what's wrong with our little orange kitten. i already owe he so much gratitude. she called to let us know that she'd spoken to another vet. between the two of them, and having had a look at the fluid sample, they thought, despite his young age, that max might have one of two types of cancer. one of them was lymphoma. this is treat-able by drug treatments and costs only $1000 (or less) over the course of a full year and has considerably high success rates for putting the cancer into remission so that the animal can live a regular life, albeit short. the second kind was one that required radiation treatment and would cost a considerable amount more, never mind the fact that our lovely vet had never dealt with this second kind of kitty cancer.

she said, on saturday that we'd hear something on tuesday. we did. the pathology exam came back positive for lymphoma. the pathologist made a note, though, to test max for leukemia to confirm the diagnosis. it is extremely rare for a cat of max's age to have such a significant amount of cancer in his chest at such a young age, or even to get this type of cancer.

she called to find out from me if ryan and i were interested in trying the drug treatment and i told her defiantly yes.

so she's going to do some research, some talking around, and will have a word with the pathologist and give me a call back tomorrow.

max is going to start his treatment on friday as well as get his leukemia test (again... he cleared it at his first visit, but these tests ate 100% accurate).

max, right now, is sleeping nearly all of the day. he's eating, but only a tiny bit at a time. he's been taking antibiotics as a precaution against any infection that may have been introduced during his vet visit last friday where some fluid sample was extracted. he's so tired though... and loosing a little weight on account of not playing and not eating as much. he responds to being called, he comes downstairs to be with us when he has the energy, and he cuddles with us when he can.

we're hoping and praying that he responds to the treatment. it's so hard for both of us to see him like this. at lest today though, we know what he has and we know that we can do something for him.

anyone that's talked to me over the past few days knows how upset i've been and how stressed i've been over this.

... wibble passing away was even harder for me to take on account of everything that's gone on with our darling little kitten.

so your happy wishes are appreciated. just keep max in the back of your mind. he needs all the happy warm kitty vibes he can get right now.






and ryan gave this to me tonight, which i forwarded to some of you already... it made me laugh so hard i cried. and it's been a while since i laughed.
cats

elegy

there's a shallow euphony
where the sound of bubbles
and life once resonated

we buried him out back
with the daffodil bulbs

brief update

wibble is really really sick
max is really really sick
and i have these two papers started that i can't concentrate on enough to get past the first page of either.

will give everyone the details on max's situation tuesday, once we know better what's actually going on and maybe what's going to happen.

(buttons)

po'et'ship

NEW POST ON THE 'SHIP
W/ BONUS LEONARD COHEN POEM!!!!

thank you so much, ashraf dear!

i'll email you later in the day

max is sick
wibble is sick
and i have to go to class

(-_-)

for blog's sake

am entangled in two separate and equally interesting papers at the moment. nothing monumental. one is a response to a couple of articles concerning the relationship between colonialism and the rise of English language as a dominant, global commodity. the other is a reaction to a wretched triangle; to which i am proposing a more intricate and optical approach to teaching writing and rhetoric to freshmen college students.

and because i'm entangled, i have not had the functionability(tm) to 'think poetry'. instead, my blog, for a short while, will be reduced to katy ramblings and the potential show-case of at least one of the previously mentioned papers.

because i am unable to produce for you an original work, and hate to leave you writhing... below is a poem by the incomprehensibly magnific Albert Mobilio...

Ground Swell

They threw in the towel, they burnt
the notes. The chairs were folded up, the microphone

unplugged. After the questionnairs were collected,
we mopped the linoleum floor--the sickening smears

were rubbed into ever-thinning arcs. I watched
from behind the bandstand as the Pinnacle kids

draped the Contact Mirror that hours before
had shivered under the assault of

one thousand flashlights. Another root worked
into the soil; the encirclement's nearly done.

Outside, the men smoked as their exhalations
thickened under the awning. Everywhere, the salt

smell of bodies revved up, ready to flare. Voices,
hoarse and sated, rode a damp breeze. When the stick

is crooked, someone said. Our sting will then
be felt, I sang back, each word familiar

as the sore in my mouth my tongue can't leave
alone. Cars started, headlights bit

into the gloom at this, the furthest verge,
where a cure will soon take hold.

from Me With Animal Towering

"feathers"

thank you scott!!!

feathers by scott glassman of 30 Days: poems.

post craze

because i've been posting all day, i thought hey, why not another one?

this one has three points:

1: happy birthday lauren!!!

2: thanks for the lovely conversation, brian. we shall definitely again.

3: saw Borat with a big crowd. laughed lots. go see it.

an indefinable moment

in the darkest corner
of the living room

where the goldfish
wakes and forgets us

for all but a feeding
the warm air swells up

with pregnancy and urgency
in every unread book

and i abandoned them
for you and the sunlight

for that stubborn cat
sleeping in the laundry

or the broken down
curtains i have yet to repair

and as i lay in the square
of the orange autumn wealth

the family of geese
on the coast of the bog

keep you awake beside me
and unprotected

from the impatience to move
towards the top button of my blouse

and

thank you for this article, ashraf my dear.

bookmark

chance operations


lately and without noticing, i have been inclined towards a more violent, coarse kind of poetry. this violence and toughness is not necessarily a bad quality. i had been drawn to the raw, the ripe, the uninhibited, the passionate. to the overindulgence of animal behavior. not just sex either. to the sensations of deep internal pain, love, confusion, dirt, dry rain and other non-refined goods.

to the surprising turns within a poem. i had been engaged in this spike and thrash of poetry.

what i woke up to find today was myself un-drugged for the first time in what feels like far too long and the "chance operations". i read it silently, without moving my lips. [i often read poetry with my lips, not just my eyes; i prefer to sound it out.]

it reads fluently, one poem to the next. the audio files are charming and the images warm and fluid.

the zen aesthetic.

part of the charm, is in the poets that participate. there's something untouchable. the poets do not push against one another, do not play off one another, do not change each other, do not compete with one another. instead, there's an ebb and flow of translation, transition and fluid communication. they're like a school of monks [/poets] scattered throughout a beautiful garden [/blog]. as you stroll [/scroll] you find them hiding behind the big rocks and under the cherry trees.

radclyff's secret

on pilot eye

September Cohen

a few things: one, he's one handsome canadian.

i love both the female interviewers in these videos. i don't know if it was the zeitgeist or if it's to do with the superiority of canadian television or if it's a reflection on leonard's character that both the women are asking such motivated and challenging questions. whatever the variable though, the mere fact that they were discussion poetry in a mass-medium is heartwarming for me.

also, part of the reason why i think leonard takes the criticism on Beautiful Losers so lightly is because he knew that they were all short-sighted. the book has seen its second cover design and been translated into several languages--among them chinese. it's an astounding piece of literature, in my opinion, and i recommend everyone read it. as for it being pornographic, yes. no question. but, it's so human in context and so genuinely emotive.

the muddened bird

a meditation for a wednesday

a single pomegranate seed
tethered to its beak

at the moment of most credulity
an owl finch landed -

__one weak foot
___in the mud -

at the side of the road -
the one i limped in on

at the morning's call -
for neutrality or passion
i cried him into staying
that extra minute

and it was worth it
(our new mythology)

loosing the secret
to a friend

- the smell of the hemiptera
or the taste of medicine -

my tea factory
my affect - ness

refusing to disguise the lines
from what they really are

the bird's red cheeks
stained or blushed

from fruit or from honesty
still has one foot stuck in the ground

trick or treat

last year, while working at the hotel, i introduced Jaimin and Ritin to Pumpkin Carving. their mom-Rita-and dad-Raj-had never carved pumpkins before either, so the adventure was a new one for all involved. i gutted the pumpkins and baked the seeds for them. they had such a good time last year that i decided, even though i don't work for Rita and Raj any more (we're still friends which is great, because they are the best people i've ever had the pleasure of working for and with), that i would make the pumpkin carving practice an anual event. so again, i gutted the pumpkins and baked the seeds (though i don't think they turned out as nice as last year) and went over to the hotel for some carving ^_^

below are some pictures of the "pun-kin" fun!

on the left is Jaimin, on the right is Ritin. step one is a little boring...

... Raj helped Jaimin with the actual cutting of the pumpkin after he'd drawn the design onto the pumpkin face.

i ended up helping Ritin and Kaylin's mom, Cecilia, helped her.

i took about... 15 pictures of these three little monsters and in not one are they all looking in the same direction!!! kids. amazing.

and the finished product ^_^ a pumpkin on a punpkin, a spooky crazy doctor guy, and a creepy cat!
happy halloween everyone!!

a translation

on being converted

9

'gaping, as the time of humanity expires, one's fitness
from fear, the shivers, does not last long'
I knew, of course I knew, I could escape to no other prison

Now I am one of those who worship none other than cthulhu's way for
drought and none of his riches and what has happened
to me
Have grown gills

To dream of the shore
For the breath of an instant through the lungs,

The untrustworthy air

The unearthly chains
Of the master

Which is the heart break of mermen





on being numerous -by george oppen

9

'Whether, as the intensity of seeing increaes, one's distance
from Them, the people, does not also increase'
I know, of course I know, I can enter no other place

Yet I am one of those who from nother but man's way of
thought and one of his dialects and what has happened
to me
Have made poetry

To dream of the beach
For the sake of an instant in the eyes,

The absolute singular

The unearthly bonds
Of the singular

Which is the bright light of shipwreck


previous translation: tower and gentleman

the point

(for kate)

i.
i found you at the top
of the lighthouse tower

peeling back the skin
of an aging scar

where a wart used to rest
on the point of your elbow

ii.
i offered you a seed
from my pomegranate

and you offered me
a back massage

you commented after:
my hands smell like cherry

iii.
the day before halloween,
this year, is a monday

let's take the day off together
to get wasted on grenadine and soda

link-happy katy

would like to send you to this exploding dog picture. the explosion comes at the end, so make sure you read through. it made me laugh.

teh brother

watashi no otootosan wa artist desu.
my little brother is an artist.
click the link: link

my blog, my rules

and oh she can rant.

it starts with the back pains. these stretched ligaments. enter - lower balcony stage right - a girl with a voice that carries. her dress is too big. some one is cheating on her or the person on the phone. the other person cries. i want to cry too.

act two means i leave the balcony for the lab. i have one bulk email, which i leave there. i am reading, truthfully, teaching rhetoric. i am really thinking about how "l=a=n=g=u=a=g=e" looks much better in capitals. i will not abuse my TA {privileges} by printing out this entire journal. although i would like to. i will read it online instead. i used this post as a bookmarking feature. i abused this post. i am thinking about the lower case i. who did i tell recently? i told someone that i prefer the look of the lower case i (I) (i) (I).

set change in motion. i wrote a poor poem earlier:

motivational speaker: motivation - the conversation in the
hall way - to hear - all the details you shouldn't know.

except the poem occupied six separate lines; not including the title which held its own in two.

in my own voice i let my class out too early this morning. which brings us back to the villainous back pains.

i should read more chamorro, more arabic. ashraf, this is my mou'sif -est moment. if you were wearing that sweater he got you (the orange one) i'd be there to hug you. if you weren't a six hour drive from my home. i'm afraid to use the table clothe. i'm afraid to get it dirty. afraid that max might tear it. but i look at it every time i take out my tea cozy. i use the tea cozy at least once a day. especially this time of year. the tea needs to stay hot.

the end is simple. i'll be seeing my doctor again on thursday. the end is beautiful. the girl with the voice that carries leaves the stage and we can all enjoy the rest of the day play.

p.s. this is where my mind is going, an hour and a half later.

for mature audiences only

the ringing got wet

the upside down owl

a poem for c.s.perez
('cause he encouraged it)

i wanted to be the upside down owl -
the one different from all the others

to distract the light from passing cars
fitting it into shapes, my wings, my eyes

the reflection you could never see past.
fit or foul - i wanted to watch you

for a child's nightmare, an innocent fear
or the deepest seeded, but not knowing.

if i were that owl i could have known
and never felt the glare

of the other two owls, the perfect pair
sat upright on the empty, brown branch.

some pictures from last weekend...

we've got a photo of the two of us with ken foree from the original dawn of the dead who makes us both look like little children. we plan on putting that picture and this one along side each other on the wall for obvious reasons. michael j anderson (aka little mike) is one fabulous individual. it was an absolute treat to meet him and be able to spend so much time with him over the weekend.

below, "the sexy michael rooker" (Grant Grant from Slither, if you haven't seen it... what's your excuse?) gives ryan and i a little squeeze. and yeah, i'm making a really stupid face.

and here we're just being cute.

thank you, michelle, for all the pictures!!!!

zombies and comics

i don't read many comics, but occasionally if the story is interesting or the art work is really fabulous then i get into one. it doesn't hurt when it comes in a book either.

i guess i don't really get into comics because i'm impatient as anyone. i don't think i could stand waiting two weeks or even a month at a time for a couple of pages to come out in stores.

it did happen once though... ryan bought me the first issue of Wolverine: Snikt! and i was like a bloodhound while it was being released--thank the comic gods it was only a 5-book long run! i may have gotten a bit obsessed. or i would have given up on it altogether. i never finished the final installment of it, come to think of it, and i haven't the foggiest idea as to where in this house they might be piled up.


over the weekend at rock'n'shock, paul (new best buddy, paul at action-figure.com!) let me have a copy of The Walking Dead which i just finished and LOVED!

if you're down with the Romero zombie, then you're down with this comic series. it has all the quintessential elements and the art is realistic and lovely. though i'd have liked to see a few more zombies up close and detailed. maybe in the next book?

so, that's what i've been doing all day; fighting zombies!

recently, ryan's been reading World War Z by Max Brooks (proud son of the Mel Brooks, yes), which is apparently very scary and plausible in nature. i don't know that i'll be giving it a read any time soon, but having heard what ryan's told me about it sounds like an amazing pseudo non-fiction book.

and if you love zombies sooooo much, then get the board game!! i got a whole pack of glow-in-the-dark zombies to go with mine ^_^

open season

as we drove past we saw them
holding dried autumn flowers

and singing christian prayers
over the dead body of an atheist deer.


further, beyond the exit ramps
pick up trucks bordered the road side

arranged in short, neat rows
like a boy's favorite collection.


then even further beyond
a truck driver could be seen

crying in the window of his rig
for the father he lost as a child.

The Ringing of the Bards is Getting Wet!

The 18th edition of the Ringing of the Bards—poetry carnival—is being hosted by the six sexual deviants of WetPoems© on October 21st 2006 and we’re counting on your submissions to make this the tastiest ringing to date.

Below are some guidelines that will help you unleash your fiercest pheromones on the rest of the ringing public:

Only poems of the naughtiest nature will be considered for this up-coming ringing.
If you're not familiar with the Art of Wet, come spend a few private moments with us at WetPoems (*not suitable for the workplace*).

Due to the nature of the 18th ringing of the bards, the members of WetPoems have provided the following submission guidelines in order to accommodate our fellow blogging poets. We realize that not everyone is ready to acknowledge their inner naughtiness, but we hope that by providing the option to anonymously submit to this ringing we give all of your inner sexuality and sensuality some room to play.

Please Read Carefully:
• Submissions can be sent to any 6 of the wet members; whom ever you (the poet) choose to email will then (more likely than not) be presenting them in the wet ringing. So if you want to be a member of ozy's brothel, you should email ozy. (email’s listed below)
• Include the words “Ringing of the Bards” in the subject of your email submission otherwise it will not be read by any of the wet members and therefore not be included in the ringing!
• Submissions should include the full text of the poem and/or a link to the post where that poem lives.
• If you do not include a link to your poem then you must include a link to your blog.
• Poets who wish to remain anonymous must indicate so (anonymous poems will be posted as such and links to all contributors’ blogs will be listed at the end of the ringing of the bards; therefore, you will get a link, but no one other than the wet member you email will know which poem you've written).
• It will be assumed that any poet who sends a direct link to the poem as posted on a blog agrees to their identity being disclosed to the public within the ringing post.

Submissions are due by Friday October 20th —anything submitted after the date may not be included in the ringing.

Email any of the six sexy members of wet:
Yasmin = grlscoutfinch at yahoo.com
Cecilia = clearcandy_daily at yahoo.com
Ozymandiaz = ozymandiaz at danworld.com
C.S. Perez = jspirit_00 at hotmail.com
Katy = kaacheson at yahoo.co.uk
Ô¿Ô = transientrevelation at gmail.com

@

the truth behind a love poem

he told me "you have beautiful eyebrows"
so i followed him home

the note on the fridge

inspired by "fridge"

a male poet
tries to write
a note about
the lovely peach
he ate that day

(having a guiltless
objectivist moment)

when the female poet
enters the dining room
followed by the cat
and long-winded sentences
about the taste
of pomegranate juice
and jewelry boxes.

still ringing

daniel of talking to myself is hosting this weeks ringing of the bards!
and i totally forgot to submit anything!

for next week, there's still no host, so if you're not too busy (i'd volunteer myself, but i will be hosting the following week along with the other wet ones; nevermind the fact that i have a rather interesting weekend ahead) please contact billy the blogging poet at idleblogs @ yahoo.com and let him know you're interested in keeping the bards ringing

dear leonard

i watched - diligent and patient -
as you devoured my poems.
turning pages like sheet music,
your eyes pacing.

until the way you lace your shoes
distracted my skeptical eye
and the hole in the left toe and the
dirty nature of your rolled up jeans
and the smell of the stale tea
in my cup.

redirected by a terrible smirk.
i began to count pages,
trying to deduce what provoked you.
before i finished counting
i got angry again, for
the speed i was swallowed,
you interpreted me;

you read it too fast
to want to sleep with the poet.

robots do

poets
don't do
math,
but
robots do.

on S. C. in memoriam

and oh,
to be but one of the days
in your september

one of hardy's girls -- just a loose scent,
a floral pattern, the 10th brunette or
the second bed you've rested in
on the 3rd floor of this complex

hardyf of torn labels emailed a pdf of his new chapbook to me and others this morning. inspiring to say the least. and at least: read the first poem, the first line, and fall.

to get a copy, email hardy.

there is NOTHING beyond this link.

no ringing, no bards, no leaves and certainly no poetry!

and all thanks, or none, to billy.

tongue & cheek

we compare the colour of our tongues
after the juices from ice pops
stain them

or

let's compare the colour of our tongues
once the juices from ice pops
have stained them

or

give me an excuse
to ask to see your tongue

the monarch of fall

the monarch flew over the un-arched highway exit
where we escaped the streak on the horizon—

the stain of yellow headlights
echoing the sliver of orange moon
like the tone deaf tenor
of a church choirs.

and by day,

a flock of wild turkeys
pluck crumbs from the highway grass
in the shade of a broken-down utility van.

and by night,

you held my hand as we walked the length
of Thurlby street sharing stories—
you began with "when i was little"
and "before i met you"

filling in those missing moments—
i held my breath
and watched as dry leaves fell
from elder oak and foreign maple.

have been listening to...

...the divine comedy

haven't had time to research this video, but some clues from youtube.com hint that the band had a competition for fans to create a video for the song. not sure that this is the winner, but i like it. there's one with muppets and another with some sort of scooby doo theme if you do a search for "the divine comedy to die a virgin".

and now, really, to get some work done before classs ^__^

holy communion

two fit backs to the wall;
we were hidden from the crowd
by an innocent piano.

we kissed and groped—awkward
_____unusual and petrified——
searching for the source to
_____this new collection of feelings,
but afraid of finding it here.

an affair that only weighed
us down for fifteen seconds
will take as many lives to forget:

getting caught by your mother,
kissing for the first time
on your holy communion day.

the american dream

is a paper cup full
of steamed milk
with whipped cream topping
and caramel.

shreds of iloveyou

the cat is building a nest
out of recycled love letters
underneath our winter bed

a little hallelujah

or is she holding your hand because she wants to?


a meager sweatshirt
with hood solves nothing

in a monsoon
of sideways rain.

the trees beg
for your shelter

though you hide
under them.

a shiver prompted you
to hold her closer

to hold her hands
in yours.

but you wonder,
is she compliant

because of the cold
or...

XIII

lucky number 13 at daniel's place!!

hosting an array of poems by poets within the sphere, but here's the catch: each poem features the number 13 or has just as many lines. daniel places all of these poems within the transition from summer to fall. and beautifully.

thanks daniel!

tagged

10:43am, i've just recently crawled out of bed. while my tea steeps in the mug i open my email to find i've been tagged by my dear friend ashraf. it's not the sort of kindergarten tag you played at recess when you were 7, it's more an internetty sort of tag. and since the questions look interesting, since i liked ashrafs answers, since it's sunday, and since ryan's busy on his gaming forums... i have decided i'll play too...

1: Do you like the look and the contents of your blog?
yep. as far as the look, i take pride in how dissimilar my blog looks to its original template (which is the one with the greenish brownish dots everywhere). i've changed the font colours, the link colours, the profile, added that picture/banner to the top (which i love, still, thank you michelle!) and done up the links all along the side... oh yeah, i added stuff to the bottom of the page too! content... i guess i would prefer it, at times, to more wholesome. by wholesome i mean clean. i mean, were it more like a poetry blog. i mean, were its contents only poetry, and not this sort of post. but even these sort of posts, well, they're me.

2: Does your family know about your blog?
yep. i think my mom and mum are the only ones who read it though. kerry (sis-in-law) might read it too, but i'm not sure...

3: Can you tell your friends about your blog? Do you consider it a private thing?
yep and nope. i don't tell people i've met right away. "hello, my name's katy and i have a blog!" daniella bella reads it sometimes, michelle does too, and wouldn't you know, they both have blog-type things? i don't consider this so private as not to share it with the people i already know, and by no means am i trying to hide who i really am to those people who i don't know.

4: Do you just read the blogs of those who comment on your blog? or you try to discover new blogs?
i read all the poets i have links to on my blog (i subscribe to their rss feeds), but i also try to seek out new blogs, one's i've never read. i have a featured blog space in my sidebar for those poets i've recently discovered and want to share. i guess i take a lot of ques from billy in that respect. i like to spread the poetry-blogging love.

5: Did your blog positively affect your mind? Give an example.
did it or does it? some times no. some times, as ashraf can attest to, i worry too much about whether i'm posting too much or posting too infrequently. sometimes yes, it encourages me to continue to write poetry when otherwise i mightn't have a motivation. in part, too, it's a reconfirmation of identity. you know those days when you're just not feeling yourself? i have this as a databank of what is katy to fall through and calm myself.

6: What does the number of visitors to your blog mean? Do you use a traffic counter?
number, am not so much bothered by, though i was gobsmacked the first day i had a counter running and found out that i had something like 40 hits in one day (i had no idea i was getting read like that, i was hoping for a number like 10!). what i'm more interested in though, is where people are visiting from, which is why i use the map cluster thingy. did you know that someone from south africa once visited my blog? and look at all those ausies!!

7: Did you imagine how other bloggers look like?
yep. and sometimes i'm really wrong. this happens with all online interactions though.

8: Do you think blogging have any real benefit?
see answer to question number 5.

9: Do you think that the blogsphere is a stand alone community separated from the real world?
erm, nope. because a: ashraf and b: brian. also, i enjoy pulling bloggers out of their template and into other forums such as email. and who knows, maybe someday billy's dream of a campfire side poetry reading with all the poets101 crowd will come true ^__^

10: Do some political blogs scare you? Do you avoid them.
some politics scare me. never mind the blogs.

11: Do you think that criticizing your blog is useful?
yes! critique is what helps us grow. if the brain/mind had bones, critique would be equivical to milk.

12: Have you ever thought about what happen to your blog in case you died.
yes, once. i had a lovely idea that, if i had a dying wish, it would be for all the poets i read and admir within the blogsphere to write phantom poems and posts. i'd give them all my password i guess, and ask them all to write poems trying to aquire and mimic my stle of writing. to keep me alive and ticking in the virtual world. and to respond to other poets under my username. that'd be asking a hell of a lot from a whole bunch of people, but that would be what i would want most. immortality.

13: Which blogger had the greatest impression on you?
hmmn. in regards to how i blog, billy. in regaurds to how i write poetry, brian. in regaurds to what i write about, ashraf.

14: Which blogger you think is the most similar to you.
i know who i'd most like to be just like, but i don't think we're that alike. cecilia.

15: Name a song you want to listen to?
have been listening to the best of The Divine Comedy lately, so anything off that album would do me just fine about now.

16: Ask five bloggers to answer these question on their blogs.
1. brian (though he's unlikely to reply on his blog)
2. danielle
3. mayor billy
4. michelle
5. *dan ('cause he's likely to, i think, reply on his blog)

the drunk party robot and the pragmatic inflatable zebra

"the monumental increased"
said the drunk party robot
to the inflatable zebra
who hung from the corner
of a downtown boston bar.

"my mother was a pragmatist"
he thought he heard it say,
then thought to himself;
how incredible that it said so
without ever moving it's lips.

pink rose

gesture for motion towards her
_________________________naked chin and


the petals swept across vulnerable skin

ringing number 12 at russell's house!

soap

i traced the thin line of liquid soap,
with my wet index finger,
from the nose of the bottle
to the neck of the sink

and left behind what looked like
a snail's trail along the countertop;
and left with what seemed like
a significant moment of meditation.

your SomethingKaty update

thank you michelle!
for wishing me a happy first day of school
^__^

today was my first day as a teaching assistant & grad student at Umass Dartmouth. to clarify: teaching assistant doesn't mean i'm assisting a professor. it just so happens that the terms apply to graduate students who teach. in my case, and that of my peers, i am teaching a course all on my own.

this is daunting. however, i think i planned well enough and had a mostly successful first class. alls i can hope now is that i get better as the material and course work get denser. oh yeah, and the jitters... i'm sure they'll fade.

not only did i teach though, i also got to play student for a few hours in my first class as a graduate student (woooahwhoo!). dr sun seems like a lovely lady and a fountain of knowledge and experience, so my teaching-practicum course will, without a doubt, be a valuable and worthwhile endeavor.

for tonight though, kiddies, more wrestling, and some spicy beastie boys a'la the beatles tracks care of teh internet. there mightn't be as many poems posted the next few... months? lets' just say weeks. at least until i get my footing and begin to manage my time effectively enough to secure some something time.

until then though, cherubs, be good and don't be strangers.

watch

this video

it is very pretty.

taste bud 2.0

strutting his junk
on the daily and grind

chewing on pencils
every afternoon at one

until catching up
with the beep on wheels

where i tried mine
and tried to explain

how sweet and salty
coexist harmoniously

in pretzels covered
with fine milk chocolate

mr kennedy's belt and why i like wrestling

okay, so i can't actually explain what it is that draws me into the wwe scene; all the highly-unbelievable testosterone-driven antics and unnecessary violence; all the silly costumes and ridiculous claims; all the nonsense and worm-eating; all the red carpets and trash talking. nor can i explain what it is that keeps me there, butt situated on the sofa for the duration and enthralled. but i do. like wwe that is. a lot. too much?

ryan and i have tickets to smackdown and ecw for the 12th of this month (which we got in the mail today, and i immediately put on the fridge for the world to see). i am even more excited to see a live show now that i'm going to get to see mr kennedy the champ!!


he won the belt in a triple threat match: sat there watching, i was sure he wouldn't win it despite my desire to see him win every single match he enters into (in this case specifically, on account of the belt being on the line as well as the fact that he's the one that prompted the match in the first place (according to the story line)).



ryan and i, watching in tense anticipation while the ref started counting the pinfall with kennedy nowhere in sight, leapt off the sofa in delight as kennedy took advantage of the situation and rolled away with the belt by pinning the guy that was pinning the other guy (caught me and both the guys he was wrestling off guard). it was the most exciting moment in wrestling for me since we started watching it in april.

i hope that the live show is equally as exciting and fabulous. i hope too, that kennedy keeps the belt for a while, because i think he's my new favorite ^__^

labor day

we spread ourselves
thin like weekly washed

sheets. the thread
is baring against our

bear toes. my feet
cradling yours

hanging over the edge
of the well worn bed.



*i know labor day isn't until monday, but i've been day dreaming about my first sleep in in weeks (!), and my husbee gets to cuddle me through the morning hours ^__^ what more could a girl want? and what girl wouldn't be looking forward to the promise of such a lovely day?

kittens & refrigerators

below are some pictures of max (new favorite hiding places included), one of ryan and the old fridge that now lives in the basement, AND some pictures of our beautiful new kitchen!! (thank you mum and dad)

ringing of the bards #10

the 10th ringing of the bards is up at ozy's place! do check it out; he's included all the poems/poets into one cohesive poem, which i've been looking forward to someone doing just the way he's done it. three cheers for ozy!

also, there's no one scheduled to host next week, so if you think you'd be interested, give billy the blogging poet a shout. to check available dates throughout september, check here.

what happened

tuesday night in a grocery store
grumbling about the ache in your knee

but you still carried me piggy-back
through the "taste the world" aisle

moaning like an old man with the body
of a 26-year-old and something

i got poked for teasing, for laughing.
then: you stopped dead in your tracks

frozen by the words that sneaked
past my unprotected laughter

the "i love you so much"
so much never as little as hinted before

but the truth slipped out like a secret
i'd been keeping for decades.

[the wet is getting]

the wet is getting

and out of control,
but you love it, don't you?

get wet with us:
a special welcome to new members
ozymandiaz
and c.s.perez

the concern her

her filtered lenses
block out the system
that she so

and so devoted to

wavering at the flicker of gravity
in a meter-thick tube
the train through Nottingham
or passed fields

for candy she sweetens
like soldiers taken from families
for the sake
of butter enough

to make their babies
fat again

the new system

pluto, as you may have heard, has been demoted. and we now have a brand new solar system. put your learning caps on kiddies, time to memorize the new solar system!

[[news.bbc.co.uk article on topic]]

does anyone else feel bad for pluto? i certainly do. that's literally the biggest demotion in the universe.

ringing of the bards #9 a'la Sam Duffy's Stuff

this edition of The Ringing of the Bards is brought to you through the grace and beauty Miss Sam Duffy of Miss Sam Duffy's Stuff and Stuff.

i approached Miss Sam Duffy via email a few weeks back, asking her if she'd give me permission to make her the "thematic centerpiece" for the 9th ringing of the bards. she agreed under my conditions (which i am very very pleased to see, everyone in this week's carnival has abided by, thank you!). as a result, what follows is a magnificent emotional journey by way of some truly fine poetry and the collection of gorgeous drawings, paintings and collages by Miss Sam Duffy that inspired the poets whose work is featured.

the poems, combined with the dramatic visuals provided, are so emotionally motivating and rigorous. as a result, i am not going to weigh the featured works down with introductions, synopsis, opinions or lip service. instead, i am going to stimulate your retina with a selection of the inspirational images that the featured poets have selected to write in response to for this carnival.

(except for one nod to scott glassman of 30 Days: poem for introducing me to Miss Sam Duffy's work in the first place. thank you scott!)

each of the images are arranged with the poet's name and poem's title with hyperlinks directly below. each of the images is loaded as if a button. click on the image here and it will direct you to the post on Miss Sam Duffy's blog where you can then view the larger version of the image.

sarah's darkness
by ozymandiaz of paper tigers

the last flower
by shirley of housemouse

prompted
by bob hazelton of average poet

saloon
by scott glassman of 30 Days: poem

ant hill schematics
by katy of somethingkaty

balloon air
by russell ragsdale of yuckelbel's canon

triptych centerpiece
by russell ragsdale of yuckelbel's canon

who's there?
by russell ragsdale of yuckelbel's canon

angelic
by ashraf of arch.memory

sara the fairy
by our mayor billy of bloggingpoet.com

face in the mirror
by mike of unknowing mind

yes, russell sent me three submissions ^__^ and yes, i included one of my own.

i do hope you enjoyed the poems here as well as the artwork provided to us all by the lovely Miss Sam Duffy. i extend you all the invitation to visit her blog and explore her artwork. i would also like to extend an invitation to all blogging poets who missed out on this particular carnival to write a poem inspired by Miss Sam Duffy's stuff and send me a link so that i can add it onto this carnival's roster. it's a brilliant exercise for a poet to participate in, and the results, as you have seen here, are remarkable.

next week's ringing is brought to you by everyone's favorite squishy-faced kitty avatar with attitude: Ozymandiaz of Paper Tigers!! send your poetry submissions to daniel at ozymandiaz @ danworld . com by friday-ish next week.

just one more time before i go: thank you Miss Sam Duffy!!

and now... goodnight cherubs!

still accepting submissions

email me a link to any poem you've written in the past 2 weeks

and i'll happily include it in this week's ringing.

email and other details here.

ringing #9 goes into production around 4pm.

anything emailed by then will be included!!

search

eighty nine
equals
capital i





this equation is the mathematical
representation of the mass force applied
to a keyboard when sat on by a 3lb orange kitten.

ringing of the bards #9 -coming soon

just a reminder to all you bunny rabits (i mean poets/bloggers), i shall be hosting my 2nd ringing of the bards begining saturday/sunday of this week; this particular ringing comes to you with some guidelines which i have detailed here. 

please email your submissions (link to the poem you'd like included in the festivities) to kaacheson @ yahoo . co . uk by Saturday 3pm EST Daylight Savings.  remember: your post must include a link to the image of inspiration as posted on miss sam duffy's blog!

also, there is no one in line to host next week's ringing!!!  if you'd like to host (it's easy and well worth your while, promise) then please email our Mayor of Poets101.com Billy the Blogging Poet at idleblogs @ yahoo . com.

any questions or you're just bored, please email me!

ringing of the bards - in color

- red, green and blue to be specific -

at this week's rining
as hosted by one naked and ashamed daniel

welcome guests

i judge people based on how neat
or disheveled their key-card envelope is
upon returning it to me
before leaving the hotel.