poz poetry

[next2u]

so im taking this really awesome poz creative writing class through my aso. the other day we were given poems and i wanted to share them with you. i did not write this poem. 

Positive by Rynn Williams

Rynn Williams
1. READING THE RESULTS


I don’t move,
but the inside corner
of my right eye turns glassy,
then shatters,


hands focus more sharply.


I don’t move,
but the pigeon shudders
on the sill.


The door opens to a maze
of wallpaper, family photos—
their bliss-frieze burns
the last unaffected corner of my sight,
like molten Karo.


My husband’s mouth collapses,
and the air about his shoulders
has crystallized.
We don’t say a word,
all the noise is around us,
the letter, half-folded, on the desk,
an albatross, a dove.



2. POSITIVE


Because in those days there were no words
for such things I took handfuls of vitamins and slept
with a trumpet flower under my pillow, I ate
at the Kiev on Second Avenue at four every morning:
enormous boiled potato pierogis shivering in pools
of butter, little sides of sautéed onions, paper cups of pure
sour cream, Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray, no ice, as chaser,


but now when the call comes I’m sitting in the kitchen
with two plastic funnels over my breasts and the pump
on the coutner with its hydraulic suck and the cast iron
sputtering of eggs, the kids already bickering at table,
milk flowing into baby bottles, even now the word
heroin makes me feel the lovely way
a body can go slack from inside out.



3. A SINGLE DROP


I’d never paid much mind
     to my implements, but now
          I paint “Fire Engine Red”


on the handle of my razor, a single drop
     on my nail clippers, one long
          stroke on my lethal toothbrush


to cordon off my blood,
     I tend and sop each splash or seep,
          soiled band-aids, love-smeared sheets—


every bleeding gum, torn hangnail,
     paper cut, scrape, gully  of cracked lip
          another hazard, each


infectious throb now
     forever watched as I patrol
          my body’s raging arroyo


in the family bathroom,
     to keep my children
          safe from me.



4. PAPER GOWNS


X-rays, lab coat, and me wearing
those delicate petals (gaping,
cold through the sleeves).
He asks me to extend my palms:
the motion is of pushing away.
Breathe with your mouth, he says, soft
tup, tup, tup, along my spine,
as if checking a cantaloupe.


There is a piece of gum
beneath the windowsill,
green imprint of a thumb.
We’re talking percentages, genotypes,
we’re talking bundled pharmaceuticals.
Studies, it seems, are inconclusive.


I try to look at the big picture:
a talc-free rubber glove at the edge of the trash,
neither in, nor out. On the insurance card,
raised numbers, black ink worn away.
There's a girl on the street with her head back,
the strap of her dress falling carelessly.


Rynn Williams, “Positive” from Adonis Garage.

[next2u]

this one is chillingly beautiful . the teacher said this was a dedication poem to a person who died of aids. i believe it was her brother.


WHAT THE LIVING DO
by Marie Howe


Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.
And the Drano won't work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven't called. This is the everyday we spoke of.
It's winter again: the sky's a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat's on too high in here and I can't turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I've been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss--we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless:
I am living. I remember you.

[Robert]

you're right, What The Living Do is beautiful.  The author just seems so aware

robt

[denb45]

"D" where have you been, and what have you been up to lately, nice to see you around, I was gonna put a All-Points-Bulletin out on you to find out your where a bouts    Thanks for sharing that wonderful poetry 

[Theyer]

thanks

[next2u]

same old same old. boys, drama & too much work. the silver lining has been this class. it's a therapeutic writing class for those affected by hiv.

things are warm and sunny here in so cal. im warm and sunny as well.

@ denb45 - how are you? also, thanks for the lovely thoughts, it has brightened my day.

best,
d

[denb45]

same old same old. boys, drama & too much work. the silver lining has been this class. it's a therapeutic writing class for those affected by hiv.

things are warm and sunny here in so cal. im warm and sunny as well.

@ denb45 - how are you? also, thanks for the lovely thoughts, it has brightened my day.

best,
d

Glad I could help "D" we all need to brightened up any day 

[PrettyHeart]

Thank you so much for sharing! I was touched mostly by "Reading the results" and "What the living do". I  was diagnosed not quite 3 months ago and when I was told, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I do have a lot more hope since then but I have my good and bad days. Thank you again! 

[hattershateme225]

Hello you all I am new and was reading these poems because I do poetry myself and I really appreciate that poem and I am thinking about posting a poem hope that I make friends on here to cool ones someone that understands how I feel and what I am going through.

[skeebo1969]

Hello you all I am new and was reading these poems because I do poetry myself and I really appreciate that poem and I am thinking about posting a poem hope that I make friends on here to cool ones someone that understands how I feel and what I am going through.

  I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends here.  Welcome to the forums.