LA Felleman's Blog

Highly Recommend The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron

 

Eternal Resistance

Breathe deep

Release  / Relax / Rest

Tap into evergreen

Husband asleep alongside

Let tenderness flow

To Self To Partner To

Barky dog next door To

First-floor bros high fiving

Today’s agenda is to scribble

fill blank page with handwriting

top to bottom scrawl of script

looping as it wants to flow

Make rhymes or rhythms or

let lines slant away from each other

into something said anew

 

Now share the beauty

Shared at July Open Mic

 

Creator: John M Lund Photography Inc | Credit: Getty Images

To Save The Bleating Baby Deer Wobbling Into The Road Alone On A Dark Night

You’re the kind of cis white man who waved down a speeding car.  Stopped by your 

arms stretching up/out.  Braked by your determination that nothing would be killed.  

Wearing your white t-shirt that ¿why do you keep mending?  It’s a rag.  ¡Let me

use it to clean up.  In your cargo shorts that will only ever be shorts; will never be 

zipped into the form of pants again.

The driver probably tagged you Mental, decided Hobo.  Fair enough.  The barrier 

between Chronic Pain and Craziness is as transparent as a white t-shirt washed 

hundreds of times. The distance from Home to Homeless a partner with a paycheck.  

These are the nuances lost at thirty miles per hour headed downhill.

Shared at Today's Online Open Mic

 

 

 

A Naturalization Threat Neutralized

The ¿barber? and his esposa wore matching outfits

black guayabera shirts, black jeans

all-white linen separates

Venezuelan Nationals fan gear

Sure sign of a foreign agent

Soldier trying to blend in civilian

Have No Fear

That fake barber has been iced

he will never return to [us]

 

 ---------------------

Inspired by This American Life episode "Solving For Where" By Nadia Reiman

Greenland poem

Tasermiut Fjord Kayaking Exploration

 

Nordic Aspirations

Great Leader wants [us] to own more fjords

[us] is sorely lacking in fjords

but with this acquisition [us] would be fjord rich

would become number one owner of fjords

By every measure of greatness

[us] would be fjord historic

fjord fantastic

fjord fabulous

fjord famous

fjord fulsome

fjord flourishing

fjord fancy

fjord fairest

fjord flawless

fjord finest

fjord   fundamental

One of the protest poems I shared at today's open mic

 [image error]

 

He Shall Separate The MENS From The WOMENS

here, only GIRLS hands shall rub together

twist faucet OFF

rip paper towel from holder

in bathroom mirrored to be one dimensional

stocked with the obviously definable

teeter-tottering between IDs leveled

and lo, it shall come to pass

the creeks shall flow clear

the fish shall shimmer

the animals shall skip

the meadows shall flower

and the loyal shall inherit Everything

Losing It

 

 

Agency

Discovering our lives were made up

interwoven, fragile filaments ❘ networks of:

Good Morning / Good Evening

You Got Here First

You’re Welcome / You Betcha

I’m In No Rush

Excuse Me / How Are You? 

Don’t Mention It  / How Nice

Thank You Kind Stranger 

I’m Glad I Could Help

I Appreciate the Gesture

Please, After You

You’re buying chips and a soda

while my cart is full

The Gulp of America

 The podcast Rumble Strip has put out a call for audio clips that reflect the "sound of now."  The call inspired this poem about what's on my mind after last week's blackout at the National Institutes of Health.

 

The Gulp of America

thermostat set at lukewarm 65

raise it two degrees in case of showers

usually remember to reset it

furnace’s roar a grind against his mind

try to soften the door’s click as it shuts

maybe today he’ll get three hours sleep

walk to work is thirty-minute trudging

icy sidewalks broken by boot imprints

supervisor appreciates efforts

wishes paycheck could be commensurate

grant given by agency bankrupted

funding shortfalls are an unforeseen shame

Not Me is the god who shows up when I pray

 

Not Me Bolsters

I    am    a    stress    fractured

tibia

unable    to    support    body

weight

forward    momentum

terminated

Not Me is an air cast

compressing broken bits

cushioning each new step

Not Me is the god who shows up when I pray

 

Not Me Swells like Mahler’s Symphony Number Two, the Fifth Movement

I am a flat line⎹ precise graphite⎹ mark on page

Not Me begins as nightingale flute call

to which a mourning dove sighs a reply

first solo, then duet of grief, then the full choir is mummering

now the strings are shedding tears, now the horns are wailing

now the whole orchestra interludes in ascending scales

climbing from whip-poor-will weeping to meadow lark’s trill

next organ interjects, holding onto a clarion hawk cry

finally, the cathedral bells chime their dawn greeting song

―――――

Informed by “Mahler Listening Guide Symphony no. 2 in C Minor (“Resurrection”)”

Bettie Jo Basinger  https://utahsymphony.org/explore/2014/11/mahler-2-listening-guide/

A friend said she knows but has a difficult time remembering that God sees her as a gift