Vanessa Shields's Blog, page 19

Poem 334 – The Unfinished

The Unfinished

Like flags at half mast
Know this position won’t last
For change comes on steady blows
When the hours fill fast
And grief slips slowly into past
And strength to rise up grows

On darkened mornings in rough sees
The writer learns to know her abilities
And fear takes the plank then does a dive
The words are generous with their pleas
To deliver story lines with structured ease
Then when her hand grips pen she comes alive

So the novel and the poem trust in time
The process of creation is sublime
And the writer sits upon her chair
Unleashes words in prose or rhyme
Embraces imagination’s muck and grime
And faces the unfinished starts with care

See you tonight, right?

7pm EST/ 8pm ATL

email shieldsvanessa@gmail.com to get the zoom link!

Poem 332 & 333 PLUS Reading tomorrow night!

Poem 332 – Why I Forgot to Write Yesterday’s Poem

Why I Forgot to Write Yesterday’s Poem

it was Carlos’* fault
I opened his book
started reading 
& got sucked
into his labyrinth
one hundred pages
later & night was
pulling its star-studded
quilt over the sky
my eyes succumbed
to closing 
all rememberings 
for poetry
folded into his story
it was Carlos’ fault
& he’ll make forget
again – I can feel it

Carlos is Carlos Ruiz Zafón, author of ‘The Labyrinth of Spirits’, which I am now reading.

Poem 333 – Apex

Apex

[ellipses] & then I was at the apex
of a steep hill, balding, dirt-dried & dusty
tufts of thirsty weeds rigid with desire

I had chased her to the top
yelling at her back & before
that on a busy city street
clobbered with shoppers
& revellers, we screamed
at each other’s faces, chiselled
from years of anger & I wept 
in frustration as she twisted
my words into braided baggage
neither of us could carry &
she ran & I chased her [ellipses]

& then I was at the apex of a
steep hill, straddling its wicked
head, watching her stride down
like her legs were made of wind
fear turned my legs to metal
& my lungs shrunk three sizes
breathing a privilege she took
I knew i couldn’t go backwards
the steepness was equal on 
both sides of this dream –
I didn’t want to hurt myself
anymore [ellipses]

I was filthy, clothes ripped
skin so streaked with pain 
it curled up its edges like
pages dried from tears

I’d  lost her again [ellipses] 

TOMORROW NIGHT!

It’s poetry time with Vanessa & Margo Wheaton! Do join us as we read our poetry, new and old, on the them of family. It’ll be an exciting and intimate sharing of beloved words and the process of writing about family.

To get the zoom link, please email shieldsvanessa@gmail.com.

Start time 7pm EST/ 8pm ATL – That’s for Margo – she’s in Halifax!

See you tomorrow!

Poem 331 – At The Cottage Monoku

At The Cottage Monoku

time sloths, sofa orbits planet pause: outside it snows streaks

Poem 330 – At 3 O’Clock

At 3 o’clock, for Karen M.

the walls tumble down & the voices turn arachnid
existing webs of worry moisten with the heat of losing focus
the ‘be in the moment’ ability turns terminal come fifteen hundred hours
so the drive home in the vehicle filled with teens is a travel through
a kind of hell through the pot-holed battlefield of Terrible Things in my brain
stop lights signals road rage roundabout when I arrive home my body
turns liquid & the spiders jump to the page for a last scrawl before exhaustion
takes control – and I let it

except today
today is different because three o’clock came at ten & she was there to hold
my heart as it slobbered on the table between us stuttering out its bloody contents
like spilled coffee & we laughed & we nodded & we ate & we whispered & we got serious about Everything & Everything didn’t hurt so much

thing is
three o’clock comes every day but must I let the walls tumble?
spiders are good luck & Terrible Things thrive unstoppable & I can choose
how to navigate my personal hells I can offer them up to poached eggs
& bacon & sisterhood

Poem 329 – On Pseudonyms

On Pseudonyms

I’m thinking about it
putting letters together
waiting for the perfect sounds
to describe the writer in me
who wants to stay hidden

the words they write
atrocious – attracted
to white space with
the precision of a
premeditating killer

I’m thinking about it
rolling sounds on my
tongue touching the
stories that belong
under someone’s name

ZOOM WITH US!

Tuesday evening at 7pm EST (8pm ATL) I will be reading poetry with the great Margo Wheaton! Margo and I have been sharing our love and passion for poetry for years, and are just screeching with excitement to share our poetry with you! We will be reading poems from a gamut of our poetry, all with ‘family’ at their essence. I’ll be reaching back into ‘I Am That Woman’ and ‘Look At Her’, dipping into ‘thimbles’, and shaking out some poems-of-the-day – you don’t want to miss it!

To get the zoom link and join us, please email me ahead of time at shieldsvanessa@gmail.com. To keep the link safe, we’re only sending it to folks who let us know they want it! That’s YOU, right?

Poem 328 – Haiku for loss & Yin Writing Link

Haiku for loss

the heart overthrown
fold into broken pieces
angels will sift hold

Thursday, November 25 – 6am-6:30am

Topic: YIN WRITING

Join Zoom Meeting
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/84807151790?pwd=ajVRNTNIYm9GbkQ3VkRFcENuZW1Jdz09

Meeting ID: 848 0715 1790
Passcode: 276732
One tap mobile
+16475580588,,84807151790#,,,,276732# Canada +17789072071,,84807151790#,,,,276732# Canada

*Reminder* Virtual Book Tour Reading this coming Tuesday!

Join me and Halifax poet Margo Wheaton as we read our poetry – from now and before – all on the theme of family!

This is a zoom event that requires registration. To get the link, please email shieldsvanessa@gmail.com and the link will be sent to you on the day!

7pm EST/8pm ATL!

Please join us!

Poem 327 – First Kiss

First kiss

it is all frayed nerves & flapping overwhelm
it is all electric fear & limb zaps
it is all blood & gore & rips & rage
it is the thing beyond a labour of utter ugly love

it is not snot-heavy on a freezing evening in a dirty alley
it is not horny-hearted on a dance floor in a skanky bar
it is not frothy-forbidden on a couch in a professor’s office

it is stop the presses stop the room stop the clock life-changing
like the hearts of Romeo, Juliet, Tony, Maria, Cleopatra, Mark, Anne, Henry & the wrinkled couple on your street three doors down who still hold hands when they go for an evening stroll –
it is this mega this divine this extraordinary

it is me
it is you
your forehead
in vernix caseosa

it is me
it is you
tethered by blood cord & light
both of us shivering
both of us falling into each other’s eyes
that gaze that yearning that melting must of us

our naked knowing
my lips on your skin
the transfer in flesh – infinite

*Thank you to Jillian, sweet mentee, for the prompt: first kiss.

Poem 326 – It Will Happen & Next Stop on the Virtual Book Tour!

It will happen

I wonder when it will happen
when I will take to the paint brush
or the sewing machine or the guitar
like i take to the pen when I’ll walk
every day nap every day read every
day eat healthy every day – help

myself to dirt or sand or tree
trunk or cloud or moon or star
the sun & I we are good but
in this moment when I am so
unsure about everything that
every day heaves at me I also
know in my bones that nothing
is actually heaved at all –

I wonder when it will happen
when I will take to this living
like I take to the page even
at its most terrifying I touch
it pour into it trust it like
there is no time only a spectrum
of sounds & breath giving
everything in perfect circles
of abundant peace that is
chaotically divine –

Virtual Book Tour – Connects with Halifax!

Yay! On Tuesday, November 30, 2021, Halifax poet Margo Wheaton and I are zooming together and bringing your our favourite poetry from our poetry collections – some new, some old, all with ‘family’ at the heart.

This is a rescheduled virtual tour event and we’re thrilled to be reading together finally! Thank you very much to the Writers Union of Canada for a grant for this reading! #twucrules

This event starts at 7pm EST/8pm ALT via zoom. We will send you the zoom once you register with us. To register, email shieldsvanessa@gmail.com as soon as you know you can make it!

We encourage friends to keep on their cameras and only unmute for the q&a portion at the end. The chat will be open the entire event. Please be kind!

See you then!

Poem 325 – seeing

seeing

before my mother named the disease
it appeared in thick black letters between
my skull bone & my forehead skin

there like a stamp revealed
there between my two eyes –
another seeing

I felt frightened but also sure
quietly sure

then in the car a light caught my eye
it was the fat moon watching me
a smirk lifting her right cheek
another seeing

I felt frightened but also sure
quietly sure
that we are all connected

Poem 324 – Hair

Hair

why am I letting it grow?
watching in frustrated disdain as it pushes
slower than a wounded snail out my pink scalp
a mash of greys whites blacks
like salt & pepper got in a fight & then gave up
walked away – tired & bored

why am I letting it grow?
a test of patience & will
& that amazing feeling of
hair in my hands
braiding it