Trauma sits in the center of a plate on a rod attached to a heartA drop of oil, it’s a stain,a small event on this clean plate,and, with care, may be cleaned or removed, in one small swipe Or the heart, like a motor, can racespinning the rodand thus the plate,and flinging the trauma inContinue reading “How Much Pain We Bear”
Tag Archives: poetry
A Color by Any Other Name
The result of two primary colors,and opposite the third; additionally,subtract red from black,you know what I mean? Unless we’re describing light,it’s the color green, see,color,depending on whether pigment or wave,would be deconstructed differentlyGreen behaves by rules when projectedthat aren’t the same when you paint,such as mixing,such ascreating white and black, and the creationof contrast SurroundContinue reading “A Color by Any Other Name”
Arriving with Pansies
What you decide not to sayyou forget how to say,and what moved you is exhaled, but left unsaid Might I be deadbefore the unsaid is allowed to breathebefore I may grieveAnd then when the words are heardor perhaps are read,perhaps simple dates or facts may hurtsomeone still living inside unsaid,holding their breathMemories of the deadContinue reading “Arriving with Pansies”
Shame is Trying to be Quiet
Shame is trying to be quiet,at night, while the house’s inhabitants sleepSoftly, Shame steps from toes to toespausing as each floorboard creaksMusn’t alert, musn’t alarmShame means no harm,and would surely endure your hurt–just, please don’t flip the switchwhich ignites the lightshowing Shame with no shirtShame shouldn’t have come,will just be a moment, is sorry toContinue reading “Shame is Trying to be Quiet”
On Writing Poems – part 2 – facing the blank page
[Originally posted in December 2021, shared here again for National Poetry Month 2024] Part 1 of this series focused on the idea of practice. That writing poems can be a regular, daily routine, and that a regular practice of editing, repeatedly, is how to nurture your words into poems. Poems rarely come like gifts inContinue reading “On Writing Poems – part 2 – facing the blank page”
What’s it Gonna Take?
What’s it gonna taketo get you into a new poem today?I’ve got all kinds for all folksI’m sure I’ve got something for youAre you depressed?That’s a great time to read–or,celebratory tooYou see, clever or deep or obscure or obtuse,no matter the style you prefer,now or next week,I bet you’ll be taking one home for regularContinue reading “What’s it Gonna Take?”
Greedy
Greedyit’s fear on its head don’t you know now?Greedyit’s fear on its head and we call themGreedyThey’re Greedythey cannot stopGreedy climbing to the topDon’t get in their waythey don’t know youYou’re fuel or a you’re tool to Greedy todayGreedyit’s fear on its head don’t you know now?Greedyit’s fear on its head and we call themGreedyit’sContinue reading “Greedy”
While the Berries are Still Between Brown and Green
The crows arrive with their babiesas the raspberries form and ripen, and as the chamomile bloomsAnd the choking-gargleof feeding baby crows accompaniesthe bushtits’ peeps,the scrub jay’s shrieks,and a finch scolding Little Sir as he stalksthrough glowing and dappled garden stems, and as he crosses the streetAs Her Majesty ignores him from her sunny spotin theContinue reading “While the Berries are Still Between Brown and Green”
History is Very Hard to Dance to
History is very hard to dance toOne cannot rely upon rhythmic feelOne must countOne must find patterns, constellations by which to guidewhen the beat fallsbelow a threshold of about thirty-three beats per minute,the beat becomesintermittent, separate events,becomes history–a string of memories of the firsthand pastrather than a beat one can dance to,rather than verses toContinue reading “History is Very Hard to Dance to”
Forever Door
Far fewermuch moreFar fewer much moreIn betweenforever doorFar fewer much moreIn between forever doorSeashell Sallyselling shabby chicEven Steven on the shoreSeashell Sallyselling shabby shabby chicEven Steven on the shoreSteven on the sunny shorein between forever doorAround the worldhope is warAround the world hope is warIn betweenforever doorNever is the endand it begins againAround the worldContinue reading “Forever Door”
Chris Bevens | pedalpoet 