in harmony

Her sweet flexible voice
animates the air,
exchanging silence for glory.
Flushing grouse from fields of sagebrush,
her energy rises richer than the horned owl’s call.

A young fox flames through the field—
its breath yaps a cogent beat
until their forceful voices blend.

Fox and Girl.

During a dramatic pause
they glance at one another,
then sing out the morning
as branches push buds open green,
and soft breezes carry hints of sage
to trick her into thinking
that spring is really here—
unaware that next week’s snow
will break branches with its wet heavy depth.

She shifts into a minor key
following the breezes,
while fox gathers food for the storm.

Brenda Warren 2012

NaPoWriMo 15
We’re halfway there–15 out of 30 poems are complete at undercaws. Caw! Caw!

For this piece, I pictured a young woman who auditioned for my school’s variety show, singing outside over a Montana field in the spring.  This girl’s voice is distinct, it spoke to me on a physical level, like being outside in open places does. The snow imagery came as we’re expecting sporadic snow here over the next several days.  It can devastate leafy branches, as the leaves provide a foundation for heavy snow. Snap!  Most springs here, there is at least one storm that leaves (no pun intendend) branches scattered in the streets.

This piece marks 52 pieces for my prompt blog, The Sunday Whirl. I’m proud of the community there, and our persistence in chasing words.

rap ditty

white lady
rosebud cheeks
stilettos from the ghetto
once covered your feet
my brother from another
mother sold them to you there
down by the ocean
near the fisherman’s lair

checking out the blanket displaying his ware
you bought his Prada knock offs at 30 bucks a pair

white lady
rosebud cheeks
look at you now
a company chief
a tiny rigid powerhouse
you perpetrate the earnings
of the power infrastructure
you set the public’s yearnings

power suit displays you
cunning in its style
sexy but no nonsense
with legs that run for miles

white lady
rosebud cheeks
look at you now
all fancy on your feet
you got your Prada it’s the real thing
Gucci, Jimmy Choo—
those Manolo Blahnik pumps rock all over you

from here to there you made it girl
a real Cinderella
with a gigolo dressed up to pet
your dazzling faux fella

did you get him on a blanket,
checking out his ware
down by the ocean near
fisherman’s lair?

Brenda Warren 2012

Process Notes:
The prompt at NaPoWriMo asked that we take a line from a poem and create a new piece from it. The first three lines, which are repeated throughout this piece are lifted from an old poem I wrote. I’ve been wanting to try my hand at a rap style piece, and I think this one is heading in that direction. Thank you for your visits, and reading my work.

That’s ten poems, one each day, for ten days.  Hoot! Hoot!

dark moving thing

dark moving thing, object of me
shrinking and stretching
you beat out time
following me through days of sunshine
where morning eats away at you
and draws you near at noon
before your blackness waxes east
and disappears into night
where I sometimes take you out
in puppets that silhouette stories
moving dark against the wall

without light to give you notice
you’d not be anything at all

Brenda Warren 2012

NaPoWriMo 7