Little Bird (Concrete Poetry)

I decided to write a poem about birds. After I finished my poem, I wanted to format the words so that they'd look like a bird (graphic or shape or concrete poetry). For now, I have titled it as "Little Bird."

I want to go to sleep.

My sister Cassandra wrote a poem in her blog where the first word of each line repeated the last word of the previous line. You can find her poem here: http://cassandralynnmiller.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-finished-story-about-frog.html?showComment=1307843049877#c5615798073010213857. Her poem inspired me to try the same technique. Here's the poem I wrote based on her criteria.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I'm so tired,
Tired as can be.
Be it night or be it day,
Day won't bring me sleep.
Sleep won't come at night.
Night to all who sleep in their beds,
Beds that welcome you to rest.
Rest assured that that's where I'd like to go,
Go to sleep in my own bed.
Bed of roses so soft and beautiful,
Beautiful except for the thorns that jab,
Jab me awake and don't let me sleep.
Sleep, please come to me,
Me who loves you so,
So that I may close my eyes and rest,
Rest until I awaken fresh and tired no more.

Untitled Poem

I don't remember when I wrote this, but as I was searching for my mythology paper, I came across this poem written on a scrap of paper. Sometimes, I still feel this way.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A dream rises before my eyes
Like an ocean wave over my head,
But the dream drowns when the waves crash
And I lay prostrate under the weight of the sea.
My eyes still open but clouded with death,
The dream was too much for me.

Creation Myth

I'm still working on a story for a friend that I will reveal to you this coming Christmas. In the meantime, I'd like to share another story I wrote years ago.

I've been thinking about a creation myth I wrote in 2005. I had a mythology class that covered Native American, Hindu, Egyptian, and some other cultural mythologies (not including Greek and Roman). I really enjoy reading mythology. During the Native American section, we had an assignment to write a creation myth. I finally found my paper (I didn't have a copy on the computer, so I had to find the hard copy.), and I'd like to share it with you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Moth people lived in complete darkness. They constantly flew over water for there was no hard earth. They were too afraid to look underwater to discover its depths because they could not swim and would drown. They asked Sea Turtle instead to dive to the bottom of the sea to see what was there. Sea Turtle swam to the bottom of the sea and brought up mud, creating land on Earth for all creatures.

Moth people then appointed four of their eldest to travel the lands in search of new people. They really wanted light because in total darkness they constantly flew into each other because they could not see.  The four eldest; Akbar, Lingra, Swasta, and Quarmo; traveled for four days to the furthest ends of the world and back. They reported only total darkness. One day a newcomer arrived. Moth people treated Cat with respect for Cat could see in the dark. They honored him, gave him a place to sleep, and entertained him. In return, Cat told them all he had seen in his travels.

"I traveled east, where tall mountains grow with thousands of acres of trees. I traveled west, where hot sands and cacti grow. I traveled north where snow glistens in the dark and cold chills the bones. I traveled south where Otters swim in warm waters," said Cat.

"But have you seen any light?" asked Lingra.

"Yes, in the east, Mountain Lion has a box. Inside this box is Sun covered in velvet. Every morning, Mountain Lion takes out Sun and throws it in the sky, basking the east in light. There, people can work and plant and cook and sew! They wear the brightest clothes with jewels and beads. After many hours have passed, Mountain Lion then asks Eagle to bring back Sun to put it back in the velvet box. The east is then covered in darkness and everyone sleeps."

Moth people were amazed and immediately implored Cat to convince Eagle to steal a portion of Sun so that they could have light. Moth people had been so nice to Cat that he agreed and traveled to the east in four days. He asked Eagle to steal a portion of Sun. Coyote overheard and told Mountain Lion of their plans. Mountain Lion then threw Sun so high that even Eagle could not reach it. Fortunately, since Sun was so high it lit the whole earth.

Coyote (trickster) became jealous that everyone got light that he decided people should still live in darkness. He blew a huge wind that tilted and spun the earth so that not every part of the earth was lit at the same time. While Sun lit half of the earth, the other half lay in complete darkness in which only Cat and Mountain Lion could see.

Moth people were happy for their time with the sun, but they wanted to see during night too. They asked Eagle, who now lived with them, to solve their problems. Eagle had heard of a glowing orb in the west that Scorpion owned. Moth people asked him to retrieve it fort them, so Eagle flew to the west in search of the orb. There, Eagle found Scorpion's two children fighting over the orb because they each wanted to play with it.

"Why don't I solve your problem? I will put the orb behind my back and whoever picks the correct side will play with it first," Eagle said. The rivaling siblings agreed and gave Eagle the orb. Eagle then flew away with the orb and left the angry scorpion children fighting with each other. They were not supposed to play with the orb, so they did not want to tell Scorpion father what had happened. Eagle succeeded in stealing light from the scorpions and bringing it to Moth people.

Eagle returned to Moth people and gave them the orb. They noticed that it only glowed brightly in total darkness. They decided that Eagle should place the orb as high in the sky as he could fly so that wherever Sun did not reach, the orb would shine instead. Since Eagle had give them light, he had the honor of calling the orb Moon.

Now the Moth people were happy because they could see at all hours. They learned how to plant, cook, work, sew, and dance. They cleansed themselves and clothed themselves. They formed social groups and established order among their land. When they became older and near the end of their lives, Moth people were often seen flying in the sky towards the light of Moon where they disappeared.

Evolutionary Bean Feast

The following is a short story I wrote in 2006.

Evolutionary Bean Feast

It is pitch black. I am likely to be eaten. I scurry across the darkened road, barely avoiding a crater, my nails clicking against the rough cement. I look up to the sky, hoping to see a glimpse of light to guide my way, but the stars and moon do not appear tonight.

The entire city had been lit up: street lamps casting their glows on street corners, store lights left on to prevent attempted thefts, lamps lighting windows in apartments. Then, all the lights had puffed out as if the wind had carried their lives away to a far-off land.

This is a bad omen. Mom told me that the city had darkened only once in her lifetime, the same night her wandering brother had stumbled blindly into the claws of the enemy. Mom always warned me to stay close to home, but the city fascinates me with its wondrous smells.

The smells! Piles of treasures wait for seekers to rift through the dumpsters in alleyways where humans foolishly leave them behind. But the food in the day delights me the most. Greasy pizza lathered with thick red sauce. And meatballs! Sausage! Sizzling hotdogs with charred lines smothered in red ketchup and chili sauce. My mouth waters just thinking of all the delicious treats. Chili is my favorite.

Once, I’d climbed up the leg of a hotdog stand, while the foul man with a hairy belly watched a woman stroll by swinging her hips. I stuck my white paw in the chili sauce and leaned forward to savor the sweet-smelling sauce, but I leaned too far and fell into the sauce. I was in heaven! My skin warmed in the chili, but I dove deeper, eating food on my way back up to the surface. I reluctantly jumped out covered in little pieces of brown meat, beans, and sauce. I heard shrieks. Then the hairy man grabbed me and tried to squeeze me, but I escaped and took off down the street, leaving trails of beans and meat behind me. Mom yelled at me when I left little prints of it in our home, a small hole in the wall of a bean-eating family.

The family, a baby boy and two adults, eats beans everyday. Their clothes have rips and holes and the house is filthy. Mom keeps our home cleaner than their home. I never understood why humans wore clothes, but mom said it’s because they would be cold without them. I guess being hairless has its disadvantages, but that hairy hotdog man could probably keep plenty of people warm with all that hair on his belly alone!

I blink, my white lids briefly hiding my red eyes. What is that? A shadow? I am almost home, only a mile away. Mom says a mile is only a block for humans. If only my small feet could move a little faster. The shadow moves. I swing my head and squint. Is that a furry tail switching back and forth? A cat? Oh, I hope not. Uncle Robert died by a cat.

Suddenly, the world lights up in what seems like thousands of tiny little flames. The lamppost above me blinks on, as well as the store lights and lamps and other bright fixtures. I look again to where the shadow had moved. Nothing. I scurry again, my tail trailing behind me. I run across the alleyway, but then I am yanked backwards. Something pulls my tail with sharp claws. I shriek. I look behind me. It was a cat!! The yellow slits glare at me, and its jaw opens to show its fangs. I can see my home, only a few feet in front of me.

“Mama!!” I yell as loud as I can. The cat picks me up by my tail and dangles me over its head. I look into a black hole ready to devour me. I shut my eyes, waiting for those sharp teeth to tear me to pieces. I squirm and twist as much as I can, but to no avail.

Then, a door opens. “What is that racket?” The bean-eating father scratched his head and glared at my enemy. The mother then arrives at the door.

“It’s that mouse! It sounds so horrible. I don’t want to hear it being eaten alive. Get rid of that cat!” The mother then hurries back into the house, her tattered nightgown flowing around her ankles.

“Shoo, cat!” The father chases after the monster that lets go of my tail, and I fall. I scurry towards the father who turns around and slams the door behind him. I run into the little hole next to the door, and fling myself into the safety of my mother’s paws.

Dove Gray Morning

I'm currently working on a story for a friend; meanwhile, I will share a poem I wrote in 2004. I cut out headlines, phrases, and words from a newspaper and used the words to create this poem.

Dove Gray Morning

Problems break through a peaceful world of crisp blue color.

Psychotic nightmares sneak up

like a cruel and crippling ambush,

turning a complex, fast environment into a dusty stretch of wasteland.

Constant touching contaminates scores of victims,

killing them with ravaging infections.

Conquerors force survivors

into dirty deeds, shameless scams, and immoral secrets.

Strained, complicated, and sometimes stormy emotions blaze

forth from the bruised and battered hostile atmosphere.

Love, loyalty, and reliability steadily erode into the earth

and fade away.

Feelings of fear and uncertainty about the future explode

into meaningless chatter and laughter

to keep from crying in this tragic world.

No one will protect you from the brutal truth.

No one cares if you live or die in the dove gray morning.

A Goodnight Kiss

I wrote this poem in December of 2004.

A Goodnight Kiss

He laid there on his rumpled bed, his haggard face full of rolling wrinkles against his harsh skin, his uneven breathing the only sound in the small dark room.

I held his sweaty palm in my soft young hands and sat on the edge of my chair laying my head gently on his chest to feel it rise and fall, rise and fall,

listening to his unsteady heartbeat.

Bum da dum. Bum bum da dum da dum. Bum da dum.

His wrinkled fingers from his other brown-spotted hand soothingly flowed through my long auburn hair.

I watched his almost-purple tongue flick across his blue chapped lips,

my name rasping from his mouth.

“Yes, grandpa?”

I lifted my head to peer into his dull eyes, my heart sinking into my chest.

“My little girl.”

He slowly lifted his trembling hand and caressed my cheek with his index finger,

the way he always did when he put me to bed and kissed me goodnight many years ago.

I turned my face and put my soft lips against his callused palm.

As I felt his hand go limp and the life disappear from his eyes, my eyes over brimmed with tears spilling down my cheeks.

I studied his face, knowing that one day I would never see the little crow’s feet around his gentle brown eyes or the dimples around his once-quick smile.

I would no longer feel his strong arms surround me in his warmth and love.

I laid my head back on his now unmoving chest, holding his hand against my heart,

never wanting to let him go.