Black & Kinky Amongst Brown Waves

some thoughts on hope
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

hope should have big, broad shoulders
arms that can carry our broken bodies
and tired souls

it should be strong enough to hold
to even be shaken
but resistant to tears
and tears

hope should not be surprised by the fears
and the sorrow that sometimes seep
into and through the cracks in our resolve

hope should always have something to resolve
as we fight to retain our grip
and to know

hope can take years to grow
but the harvest of this sweet and tender crop

will never stop

the climb
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

he says I climb
up and into words
and I do

I find a foothold and
step into the meaning
I grind my heels into the syntax
trying to heave the weight
of education and mis-education
into how I want to know
how I wish to sound
in this tongue
all my own

and once I am up
I use language to get down
deep into the belly of the words
dismantling stories
that tried to erase my voice
made louder now
because I have no other choice
but to keep climbing

this pen is my trusty pick ax
and this paper is my rope
as I make my way through
this rugged terrain

i realized why this year’s challenge was more painful than the first time around… at some point, the poetry writing started to feel like a chore.  it was not practice, it was not skill building, it was not fun.  i think it’s because i have been a bit tired these days and my batteries need to be reset and recharged.  but i made it though.  and i hope that some of my creations pleased you as much as they pleased me…

rainy days
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

rainy days remind
that all is not always
fair weathered

clouds
must gather
water
must be released

sometimes
like mist
sometimes
in torrents
with light shows
and rumbles.

i started this piece, thought of this banksy image, and then completed the piece…

sticks & stones
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

sticks and stones
can break a lot more than
bones
they can break down regimes
unilaterally focused on oppression

they are seen
hurtling through space
marking time
a physical reminder that there is unrest
dissatisfaction
and angst
here

bullet and bombs are expensive
and run out

sticks and stones
regenerate
are sustainable
are harmful enough to cause a stir
commanding that notice be taken
locally
nationally
internationally

throw your sticks
fling your stones
fight your fight
to break down barriers
not just bones

once again i took a day off and then wrote 2 poems today…

each spring
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

in front of my house
there is a bush
that explodes with blossoms
each spring.

though pale and pastel pinks
have never pleased me
the sight of this bush
is like a balm
and a trumpet call
for hues more fair and enchanting
to come forth
and greet
the lengthening day.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

this second poem was created using an online, random word generator. the bold words are the ones i was given to create my poem…

through that doorway
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

his dim and dusty roadside café
is an oasis
a power place where souls recharge

the scattered tables are always populated
with wayward cowboys
and sobering soldiers
trying to find their center
shooting to get themselves together enough
to make it home
or simply out
of the door and on to the next fine establishment
worthy of their coins

there was once a young man
who wandered in
it is still unclear if he
was running from or to
he was a pilot
but when he talked about “up there”
his disgust was palpable
it seemed to singe his very tongue

he offered the pilot a cot
but had no idea that it would be
occupied for a full year
and like he wondered in
one day the pilot wandered out
leaving only his pewter wing pin
found in the basket
on the top of his shelf.

in the interest of full disclosure: i didn’t write on the 21st, but i did penance by writing 2 poems on the 22…

a sonnet for the living woman
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

the woman who knows for sure that she’s alive
is dangerous to all, but never herself
her eyes ablaze, her mouth a veritable hive
teeth bared, her laughter upsets a near by shelf

she’s about the business of rejecting all notions
that timidity is the bosom from which she sucked
no spoon fed lies or bottled inferiority potions
before her eyes, images of ‘proper ladies’ she plucked

this woman’s survival is intimately tied to her knowing
from whence she came and where she has to go
it’s not merely about self esteem or confidence growing
she is the girl child that survived when the world said no

it should not now or ever come as a surprise
that whole worlds begin and end between her thighs

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

fortune cookie lies (after the style of Frank O’Hara)
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

bok choy in the teeth is better than on the table.

you will be lucky today, but not tomorrow.

letting go of fear will make someone fall down.

there are no lucky numbers, just lucky cats.

today is full, but tomorrow will be fuller.

remind people that you love international customs.

always be willing to try new things…

in bed

in bed

in bed.

untitled #41913
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

day slipped by
without focused pen on paper
poetry’s priority
paused
committed to the process
puzzled by the results
yet willing to go
where led

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

covered
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

there is a woman
who loves me like
her mama’s handmade quilts
ordered
colorful
providing full coverage
from head to toe

i am making it through the month, but it is getting harder and harder… i am not sure where the challenge lies, but i am observing myself and my writing practice to better understand it all.

marathons
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

there was a time
when my teenaged thumb and forefinger
were well practiced in the art of
delicately holding out
¾ filled
paper cups of water
to passing runners

my girl scout troupe
volunteered at the NYC marathon
for years

the memories are foggy now
but I will never forget the
the staccato rush of bodies
the pungent smell of endurance
the sensation of the cup
almost seeming to fall out of my hand
and into the thirsty grasp of a body
unable and/ or unwilling to stop
and take a moment to drink

and as the news of the explosions
at the Boston Marathon come to light
I find that once again
I have the sensation
this time
of my understanding
seeming to fall out of my hands
and into the thirsty grasp of bodies
unable and/ or unwilling to stop
and take a moment
to grieve

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

more hours
© 2013 margaux delotte-bennett

I would never want to add
more hours to my days
because then I would have
more to fill
more things to do
and more tasks left undone
because the pile of stuff I want to
accomplish
is growing
at a much faster rate
that what has already been done
but I keep pushing
watching the moments I had today
fade away
as I hungrily await
the next batch
coming tomorrow

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

dating triolet
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

the dating game is aptly named
toying with emotions already fragile with wear
our short attention spans should be blamed
the dating game is aptly named
tokens of success are seldom claimed
confusion due to oversight and/ or missing flare
the dating game is aptly named
toying with emotions already fragile with wear

it was a little difficult to get these poems out and into the world, but here they are.  i am not sure what is happening in the second piece, but it wanted to be written just like that, so i obliged…

the call
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

they enter the doors
week after week
in search of the divine
that spark glimmering in the eyes
of some they call holy

they know that
being still
for an hour or more
to focus on spirit
is the least they can do

and so each passing week
they return
hungry
hearts and minds
open
seeking the peace which passes all understanding
or at least a retreat
from the chatter out there
in the world

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

locked on both sides
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

through the moss covered magic door
the one locked on both sides
the one that still has traces of fairy dust
on its twisted copper knob

through that very swollen door
the one you pushed her through
the one you slammed in her contorted face
a reflection of your own anguish planted there

you were not trying to keep her safe
you were not trying to keep them out
you were only trying to
stop that dead feeling that her gaze inspired
you were only trying to
put distance between her hot and rank breath
and you
as you let her know
that she was no longer the supreme ruler
of a damn thing
and her high pitched lies would no longer
rattle in your head
if you could help it

and you could

by locking the door on both sides
because the you that is now
and the shell of the you that was then
both needed to make it clear
that it was time to part ways
and leave the magic door
firmly fastened.

things to do is spring
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

find reasons to stand and/or sit outside so that the sun can kiss your neck

walk a little slower to appointments to prolong having to be inside the office

eat elaborately built salads of fruits and/ or vegetables so that the season can burst in your mouth

drink more water with your mouth, eyes, hands, hair

open your hibernating heart to love in bloom

make sure the pieces of clothing you wear are shorter; sleeves, hems, necklines

give thanks for the changing seasons

be fully present in the beauty that is today

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

grasping
© 2013 by margaux delotte-bennett

there is a way that your hands
there is a way that your mind
there is a way that your lips
there is a way that your hips
there is a way that your heart
holds me