Have you heard of book spine poetry? I just did for the first tine this week, and I think it’s really cool. You take books you own (from what I’ve heard there’s some debate on whether the books should come from one shelf or not) and make the best poem you can using the book titles as they appear on the spines. Here’s my first one:
On the road
Rebecca pledged
All the available light.
It’s fun, you should try it! If you do, leave a link on the comments below so we can check yours out!
I wrote this a long time ago, and it ran in an art and literary magazine. When I wrote it I had the women from John William Waterhouse‘s work in my mind. For some reason it’s been coming back to me this week. Maybe it was all the great art I saw this past weekend. In any case, I thought it a good time to share. I’ll let you guess how old I was when this came out of my pen.
hylas and the nymphs study, courtesy of jwwaterhouse.com
Millicent stood, worn and weary,
Against the dawn, bleak and dreary,
The gods ignoring her bleeding query,
“What have you done with my love?”
Ankle deep in her dreams debris
Her loved ones eyes were all she could see
As the last of her hope ripped its way free
And fell as a broken dove.
Followed the dove against the dawn
She flew in a cloud of white chiffon
Her scream never came as the waves crashed on
And she left, never knowing her love.
image from insuperabledistances on photothing
I don’t consider myself a poet. Sometimes, though, I sit down and words just come out. This came out a little while ago, and I thought I’d share.
image from fyeahtattoos on tumblr
Before there was time
You stood.
The right hand of God
The One
who was God
who was
and is
and is to come.
Before I knew You
You knew me.
Before I knew You
You loved me.
You who breathed
and light became day
and darkness night
blew breath into my lungs
and filled me with
new life.
You, who shaped the heavens
deigned to come
to lowly Earth.
You wrote your fingerprints
into creation
into prophesy
into our bones
so men would be
without excuse.
…but still, we never knew you.
Your own refused
to recognize
the glory of
Your birth
and life.
You knew they would.
Your own chose sin
and sent you to
atone in blood
and still You came.
You knew.
You and God
brought form to void
and spoke the heavens into being.
You knew that when
You gave free will
that we might not
choose You.
And so You came.
A God so just cannot abide,
wages earned must be paid.
And so by coming into flesh
You cried to God,
“Take me instead!”
because you’d rather
die than live
eternity
apart
from us.
From me.
You who made the Earth and seas
and all creation,
called it good,
came to us
to be The Light
and shine among
a darkened world.
Take my life and let it be
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee.
What choice is left
but to put to death
anything in me
that takes me
from You?
May Your light shine
in my dark world
so that through me,
not because of me,
they might find You
and know
eternity.
Remember my list of books I want right now? My loving mother found a copy of Amphigorey she had in her library and bequeathed it to lil’ ol’ me, along with an equally great collection by Chaz Addams. I’d forgotten how brilliant this book is. I was especially taken by the section titled “The Listing Attic” which contained dozens of truly morbid limericks. Which is fitting, since I have a truly morbid sense of humor. (Ask A about my fascination with dead baby jokes. On second thought, don’t.) So I thought I’d try my hand at one or two (maybe slightly less morbid) as I’ve been known to throw a poem or two around in my day. And limericks are so much fun!
There once was a young man named Louis
Who was struck with a bad case of ennui
To get out of his funk
He took up with a skunk
And all who laid eyes thought him screwy
Bigger in Real Life 