Amputated Moon

the kitchen sink

has been buzzing

the water is thrumming

just as if it has grown wings

lift the faucet handle and hear a

hummmmmm

maybe bees have decided

to hide themselves

within the pipes and gaskets

beating their wings

over and over again

cooling their queen

are they dancing

within the pipes

wiggling in the spigot

sending their secret code

to each other

are there sub-sink flowers

turn on the faucet

hear the buzzzzzzz

wait for the blessing

bees are always gifting

the world with honey

the perfect golden food

Pamela Olson, 4/30/09

For Read Write Poem’s

last NaPoWriMo prompt,

“Listen”

When I was ten

I used to look at my dance shoes

and wish

they were pale pink

with ribbons to wind

around my ankles and calves

wish they had a magical

toe-box

to help me balance on my toes

but my dance shoes

were black

and flat

with leather on their soles

and one piece of elastic

running across the top

to keep them on my feet

they had little bows

balanced on the tops

my dance shoes

were for dancing

to the sounds of jazz

the swift beats and

syncopated

            rhythms

to wild trumpets

and growling saxophones

my shoes could slide

across the wooden floor

like Bennie Goodman

I don’t think I can toe dance

but music still runs through my feet

I know I can dance— jazz!

Pamela Olson, 4/29/09

For Read Write Poem’s prompt

“I don’t think I can. . .”

I am thinking of the sunrise this morning

how the red sky spread from the horizon

up and over the sky

long before the rising of the sun

a crimson harbinger of the dawn

I am thinking of the flower buds

still curled in upon themselves

climbing the trellis outside my door

lost between vermillion and rose madder—

undecided until full bloom

I am thinking of the tomato

sliced like a silver dollar

resting between the bread

I see the color or your lips

resting within its thin skin

I am spending this day

seeing the all the shades of red

like amaranth, burgundy, rust,

burnt sienna, and sangria

this day I am full of the joy of seeing red

Pamela Olson, 4/28/09

For Read Write Poem’s prompt,

“Seeing Red”

what would happen

if this poem was placed

in a stress position for hours:

lines outstretched

rhythm stilled

words cramping

would this poem talk

if it was covered with a towel

and water was poured over it

would a menacing bark

and possible bite

shape it up into a form

some say you can’t count

on torture to produce truth

but maybe this poem is

a smoking gun. . .

Pamela Olson, 4/27/09

For Read Write Poem’s

prompt #27 – use some random words

Visit Monday Poetry Train Revisited

for other great poems

Pamela Olson, 4/26/09

For One Single Impression’s prompt

“Word”

For Read Write Poem’s prompt,

“let’s get metaphysical”

first find your oven

it is usually in the kitchen

and resembles a large box

with a door

look inside

does it have some room

so the soufflé can rise?

turn it on and heat it up

all the way to 375 F

discover that you don’t have

a soufflé mold

in fact—what is that?

go to the store

buy a 1.5 qt mold

back home the oven is hot

and you look again at the recipe

you will need

4.5 oz bittersweet chocolate

8 large eggs (only the whites)

¼ cup of sugar

2 teaspoons of lemon juice

whipped cream or

crème anglaise

(which is English cream

which is not a cream but a pouring custard)

2-3 tablespoons of powdered sugar

go to the store to buy all of the above

you’re home again and the kitchen is hot

next coat the inside of the mold with butter

oops—that wasn’t on the list

so its off to the store again

it is now close to supper

so you might as well buy

food to feed the family

back home

put all the groceries away

and coat the soufflé mold

with that butter

add some of the sugar

roll it around until the mold

is nicely covered in sugar and butter

next comes melting the chocolate

and you discover this involves a double boiler

guess what?—yes, it’s back to the store

at home the kids have collapsed

hungry and terribly tired

but you soldier on

melt the chocolate

over high heat in the double boiler

place the egg whites

sugar

and lemon

in another double boiler

(it would have been nice

if they had told you. . .

at least you know where

to find them at the store)

back in the kitchen

you might as well pause

put the kids to bed

it’s ten pm and there is school tomorrow

so place the eggs whites, etc

into the second double boiler

over boiling water

whisk until lukewarm

yes! you have a whisk!

remove from heat

and use an electric mixer

to whip the eggs to stiff peaks

use a rubber spatula to fold

the hot chocolate into the whipped eggs

gently place the soufflé mix

into the buttered and sugared mold

place in the center of the oven

did you remove the racks above the soufflé?

bake until the soufflé has risen

one and a half times in height

and starts to brown on top

or—about 20 minutes

remove from oven

top with powdered sugar

serve immediately

with whipped cream

or crème anglaise

ok just go ahead and

wake up the kids

let them eat the soufflé

since they had no dinner

isn’t it wonderful!

Pamela Olson, 4/25/09

Read Write Poem’s prompt

“How-To”

the sky

gr—owls

dark

dangerous

rabid

dog

its bite

lightning

fast

Pamela Olson, 4/24/09

Read Write Poem’s prompt

“Listen Up”

Also inspired by Fiona Robyn’s

blog, “a handful of stones”

here on this pre-summer day

when the thermometer rises beyond 80

I will be a rain drop

full of cohesive tension

holding it all together

able to fly through the air

float in the clouds

fall into a puddle

making never-ending

concentric conversation

I will be a separate rain drop

but better in communion

with others in a swift storm

or in lakes or streams

or maybe some sweat

on your brow

as the thermometer rises

pushing past 80 degrees

on this warm Alabama

pre-summer day

Pamela Olson, 4/23/09

For Read Write Poem’s

prompt, “put on another hat”

the sun’s light lies sharp

a slash across the clearing

meanwhile there grows

in the shadow

only the landscape

of her body— splintered

into what is past and

what is yet to come

she is simply an empty space

a scattering of dry brown reeds

cluttered and clattering

rough and rasping:  her song

comes in snatches

dim then keen— listen

she is a dream once lost

among sorrows and songs

listen in the boundary

of shadow and light

look in the broken

disused reeds

there—there is the landscape

of her body splintered

Pamela Olson, 4/22/09

For Read Write Poem’s prompt

to use 5 random lines from

different poets

The lines came from the following:

Pablo Neruda’s “Phantom”

Natasha Threthewey’s “What is Evidence

William Stafford’s “One Evening”

Elizabeth Bishop’s “View of the Capitol

            from the Library of Congress”

Ranier Maria Rilke’s “I Love the Dark Hours

            of My Being”

she wears white today

with her hair long and

curled

in her right hand

yellow roses

fragrant

she wears white today

floating along the

stairs

each step carries

her further into the

future

she wears white today

she marries her love and

grows up

Pamela Olson, 4/21/09

For Read Write Poem’s

prompt, “rites of passage”

Photo:  Emily marries Thom

6/14/2008