Writers Block

I can't
seem to write
but I try anyways.
The only way
to beat the beast
(writers block)
is to write
even if
everything is shit.

Triolet

A triolet of mine from last semester, I honestly haven't finished a poem since Friday and now I have to post my work from last semester.. but it still counts because it's an original poem. :)

In desperation there is beauty,
If you step back far enough.
Step away from the reality.
In desperation there is beauty,
Let the harsh libes of reality flee.
You are tough,
In desperation. There is beauty,
If you step back far enough.

(Lack of) Progress

Well, since yesterday I've scraped my Sestina idea (again) and started my sonnet.. neither are getting done today. So I procrastinated and went an read one of my favourite poems, here you guys go (Y)

The Emperor of Ice-Cream
Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
              Wallace Stevens

Sestinas (Writing Process)

I have started my sestina three times, with different themes. I can't pick a damn theme! It's driving me insane. I write a stanza and then I stop and decide I'm not inspired anymore :\.
It's rather fun to write one... when you know what to write about. It's probably a good idea to go and write something else and take a break but then I'll feel like a faliure... This poem is going to take me all weekend to write. I also have a sonnet.... Grrrreat.
:|

I Am (Ellen Jaffe prompt)

I am a moose covered in vines
unable to free myself
from my house of ivy

I am a grape with a fear of the underground.
I climb as I grow
and my home follows me as I do.

I am coal with an underground home,
a house of ruin
with holes in the roof leading to the sky.

I am a yellow leaf about to leave my home.
I am about to fall from grace, along with the others,
onto the ground, my new home.

Some Humans

Some Humans

Some humans
spread their mouths wide open
teeth showing
ready to devour one another

Some humans
act as if they're
above others,
they try to impress
with empty shells.

Some humans
lay on couches
streams flowing
they say they wish to move on
yet the still lay there
on the very same couch

Some humans
are all humans.
Some
try so hard
to be different
to be special
but they're all the same.
False.
Pretentious.
Unable to look ahead.

Sex and the City (My Saturday Poem)

Sex and the City.

My mother sat on the opposite couch.

“What are you doing here?”

She better not be staying

“Your father has company

…

Does he know you watch this show?”

I knew this was coming.

“Probably.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little old for you?”
“Don’t worry they edit out the good stuff”