thirty million times a second
courtesy of starbucks
above the street
and before we leave
we felt like
of the corner store
in the high-rise next door
where it counts
hand to mouth
i like to catch my breath,
beating the world at hide-and-seek
two cats at our door
i sat at the curb thinking!
to expire every next breath
but the creatine of jazz
from this we got:§§§§§§
-
Ok, this one is a little more light hearted. This was actually a little harder than I thought it would be. I’m not sure if I really get the idea of this; I used a lot of the lines and sort of filled in a few others. I’m not really sure if that is what was meant (to use the generated lines), or if the lines are just supposed to spark ideas. but I gave it a shot using those lines. Its late and I might be missing something here…like maybe… a poem : )
Two Cats
Two cats at our door
I sat at the curb thinking!
What could they want?
Don’t they know about Fluffy?
She was fixed last week
courtesy of starbucks
above the street
too many kittens-
she was living
hand to mouth
to expire every next breath
she couldn’t make ends meet
beating the world at hide-and-seek
now she can run and pounce
no more problems
where it counts
except for those two cats
- at our door
-
Explorers
I sat thinking
thirty million miles a second
of when we left blanketed world
of hide-and-seek
to explore our own music,
to hear a burst of jazz
whine above the lashing rain.
The drizzle dampened our coats
chilled our bones,
dripped into our hearts
growing our love.
Samuel Bivins said...
Untitled
I am hiding out at Starbucks
just across from my apartment,
hiding out from people.
Jazz speakers above mix
with smoke and empty conversation,
rinse over me to create
a strange sort of quiet
isolation and lets me drown
in a paper mug almost empty,
but still there is one vibration,
thirty million times a second
that I can just make out.
It is the lonely note,
timbred in absence,
and sometimes I wonder
when I am hiding out at Starbucks,
if there isn't someone else
listening for the lonely note
that might come to my table
with a sorrowful smile
and pluck another string.
I refused to write a poem about 9/11 for the longest time because it seemed so cheap to me to use it in that way. But when I read this that's all that came to mind for some odd reason. I borrowed "beating the world at hide-and-seek" but since it's somewhat generic and I'm using it in a very different way I figured, what the heck? Heh Anyway, here's mine:
9/11
They are hanging
out under the high-rise
buildings, taking up space
at Starbucks, the public
benches or subway stops,
living in an animal
sense, hand to mouth
on spare change or foraged
morsels, passing away in the cold
months or the angry nights
under the artificial stars
of skyscrapers, beating
the world at hide-and-seek
then going unreported
when the Empire falls.