Compilation Poem for May 26, 2016

1. If only you were here.   
2. You end up were you started. It's one, It's whole.  
3. Well, dog my cats! 
4. That's my favorite place to go. 
5.A foreign land became your body, the people your soul. 
6. I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. 
7. You bitch after all we have given you. 
8. My grandchildren are doomed. 
9. A stone captive heart. 
10. a phrase that overthrows a tyrannical reign. 
11. These bones that grind and groan as I walk about. 
12. notes in a rain coat. 
13. Drown in hate. 
14. my eyes are stars that watch the eternities. 
15. They blaze only in the compressed muck of the depths.
16. If only you were here.          

Compiled by Michael Clements

Compilation Poem for May 19, 2016

Wild Kindness
compiled by Bryan Drey

a howling in my chest
but I've lost my way
they said I couldn't sing
she sang about getting physical
who are these voices?
the powers of silence

It was all about the hair down to here
he had cut his hair like the men in church

in spite of its own Buddha nature
I dedicate myself to the...
to the tender love and caresses
I wish for you sunshine
remember your hope for tomorrow
Oh my spotted heart
but what's their meaning if I hide them?
she creates in the blind alleys
created by devotion
till the dream seemed real enough to chew

I'm going to offer you my very best CRAP
they seemed to be searching
they're all straight on the outside
I'm so tired....Why?
I'm rarely less than exhausted
I have a juicey ass

the girl whom God didn't love with hair like mine.
You realize we aren't inherently better
but don't bury me in the process
now THAT'S what I'm talking about
but let's keep talking....I don't aspire to be
anything else. It's in God's hands.

Still I rise. You may write me down in history,
with your bitter twisted lies
they said our hands are at stake
you'll see friends die...
being right means not being left,
all of this in order to become
that took its toll

There comes a time for remembrance
for those who sacrificed all
My brother & I finally together
born into chaos we emerged
but when you reached into the depths of
your soul...you found nothing
cry when I heard a shooting star
there was no stronger love, I then
felt God flick the switch.

You are sexually submissive,
What were you wearing?  YES!
Yes! Kisses and hugs!
That's very clever of me
yes my skin is soft
I hate hugging strangers...
I feel guilty for that
I can't help myself

I don't know...
it's hard to explain
we are all made of shipwrecks
we only have what we remember
My name is "What's her face"
Sometimes I want to die
to most, suicide is a tragedy
to me it means to be free

Isn't it beautiful?
It's terrifyingly BEAUTIFUL
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL
This is all going to end in
oblivion

Compilation Poem for May 12, 2016

Compilation Poem

May 12th 2016 Eniten Bakery

Outliers

by Caroline 1st time to SFYOM night

A collection of artist

gathered on the shore

straining from the Patriarchy

we find our listing gravity

A concert of the mind

paintings and symbols crash

we tell the stories of sanities

while others turn to ash

Jumping into darkness

Mavericks of  the damned

Stories born of panic

words defying death

So here's to the artists

our golden starlight shines

Straining from the patriarchy

we find our being--gravity.

Compilation Poem May 5, 2016

For this week's compilation poem, I took the third word of (almost) every piece that was read. The first set of words is the third words in the order they came. The second is the poem I quickly devised from those words. Please feel free to create another found poem based on these words and we will publish it here on the SFYS blog! I may write another one as these words press on my brain.

The Words:
door approaches Wednesday held her mix told pass into cheese aren't from it cat told shall the that to the in ma-ma girls


A New Initiative Called Brianna Writes Happy Poems

Told her door approaches,
the cat shall pass
into that cheese
Wednesday held.
It [isn't] told to mix in girls
from the ma-ma.

Compiled by Marianne Hales Harding

Birthday Compilation Poem April 28, 2016

It's time to free myself,
Hey girl...I did all the laundry this morning so we can spend the afternoon under the cherry tree mapping the image arcs of your major and minor characters
enjoying caprese grilled cheese
What light is light if Silvia be not seen
to liquify the solidity of doubt
even when he has just been fed
and glow the tamrasky wild.
I often feel as blue as the veins under my pale skin.
It will always be something I ate.

Compiled by SFYS writers
Genius Idea by Daisy Allred

Compilation Poem for March 17, 2016

“I know it’s dire, my time today” I am afraid of shrinking and having no one notice, He will make you a part of nostalgia, And in that moment, you will change the definition of regret They know every revolution will devour its children We fight, again the cycle will replay. You can nearly hear the children, pointing from the streets “Where is Heaven if we can’t see it?” Slowwwwwwwwwwy growy sticky veins and thickly gains made daily daily May God bless us, everyone We are still alive.

Compiled by Madelyn Taylor

Compilation Poem for April 7, 2016

A bent wheel with a rhythmic call

Flowers wither under tyranny’s boot

She was the toughest soldier I ever met

That is true for all of us

Love is nothing if not cliché

I am tired of hours so bitter

And much of it grieved my heart to think

What man has done to man

And I must think

Do all I can

That there was pleasure there

Our thumbprints are everywhere

A teacher of composition

And she became an action

Telling the children bed time stories

 From the book she loved

Children examine through crystallizing eyes

Training for the next war

Flowers floating around the bedroom

Like poet misses paper

Because my body knows this poem is over

Without warning

I was tearing apart

I was petrified

I couldn’t blink

I fell

And that’s habit.

Compiled by Casper Wyatt

http://casper-s-real-life.blogspot.com/

Compilation Poem for March 31, 2016

*note: the guiding principles for this poem were 1) depressing words 2) alliteration

I'm Going to Depress You

Before then, guilt hurt
sleep out of the question
contamination, dark opened the door
long breath, Go Now!
less than a second, time to call again
afraid, broke, asleep, come on up
somewhere, night never dream, no pain
war faces feel fifty fighters growling fabulous
eyes dead, green grass grows
cold vibrations stabbing, rage reduced to this
soft on the sidewalk, pretending to participate
betrayed, resolution criticizes again in my head
writing to be published atop fresh milk
on the fly, failure defined
rebel, setback
accident you flew away
leaves falling down
fists pumped, racing off the car
repel forty five minutes later, lucky again
without falling, will not stretch
counterfeit call rambles round
prehistoric perm--nostalgic fashion
true to tell, never an issue, strong opinionated new life
deviate from the default, flipped on its head
lives lived, larger exasperation
refuse to refashion
punishing, refuse, highlighted reminders
old, called baby, turns on paper
getting lost, drowning, endless like tools
captivated, empty inside, punches burned
stopped in your eyes, green is too soft
perfectly synonymous with Sunday texture
I used to love, changed and wished
fear looms, stops making sense
it decides what we do
different, broken, insecurity, rejection, depressed
transition, without love, conditional air, hate by me
being my bike, reconnecting, recycled by our fears
floating technology humbled soft over and over
flying singular forever, descend downwards to the green gray chill
lake bottoms sunken among the kelp
dream, down, down, down dead diver's depression drifts
with a buzz in the brain, stereotypes celebrate saints
last lips lead me like lost souls
laughter logs the lost long-haired lunatics long
clap cracked and called and you do come
stood still, fallen far, see someday stupid
wa wa wa why, wife
grave glares to grind the gift this afternoon sunset
borrowed boots, backward books, left for denial
anger, confused, stupid, no good, put in place
over and over, sleeping in compliance, temptation
toughen up, echo, slap, claws, numbness, wait, cracks
Normal?
good generally air wholes, died
working, lonely, shadow, beneath
toilette, weak, melted, tears, purge
shame.

Compiled by Alexander Olinger

Compilation Poem for March 3, 2016

Speak for Yourself Compilation poem
3 March 2016

I don’t ever write titles for my poems, so you can call it what you want

Back to the mirror is where I go
leaving a naked doll on the ground —
she forgot me when I said “bath.”
I bore my shame in the mirror each morning when I awoke

now home is starlight and my ribcage,
and a heart beating at the same frequency.
I look into the past and see something that no longer is,
and in 10 to the 33rd years the earth will wink out.

I want to be light and beautiful, as if I had wings —
laughable really, how I can’t manage these.
It is their light that illuminates the early dark
and brings heavy weight upon my fluttering eyelids

Why can’t I live any different way?
a verse is like a key that opens a thousand doors;
the smell of constant hope won’t stop pulling me toward it,
and in 10 to the 33rd years the earth will wink out —
and I was thinking I’m going to look too young for a long time!

How can a vibrant soul have demons deep inside and still shine?
when I run on the grass, the sod and my feet conspire to bring me down.
burnt wheat fields border burning oil fields —
how could you make my tear ducts run dry
and smell my skin on your pillowcase —
Well, closer to sex than I’ve ever been before.

Daisy asked me to read this poem, amongst several bodies that don’t perspire
When I said I was a green light, you assumed I meant go —
Darling, what cruel things you say

Water of its own weight falling;
the cold killing my heart melted away.
Fear is the second before heartbreak
and my joy is orgasmic like I’ve never felt!

Just get it out....

Compiled by Dennis Clark

Compilation Poem for March 10, 2016

When I was a child
everyday was such a good day
But I believed we were broken
I shedded tears
I wasn't seeing the stars
I wanted to leave
I was lost
Words were my enemy
Rain was my god
Your kindness slowed down
And I was left with memories
I knew I was going to be home soon
But not here, not anymore
I loved you and I hope you loved me
I left with the wind
knowing we were one
I wasn't broken
I was a good person
But words took over.

Compiled by Daisy, Perla, Colby, and Joe Cool

Compilation Poem for February 25, 2016

I'm a jalepeno! EHN!
Be considerate. Be gentle. I'm overwhelmed by a complex wandering.
I can only go one way. I can't be bothered with a tragedy.
You can't smile without gums.
Soon the trenches and craters will fill.
There are a lot of c-words in this poem.
I know what's coming. I think I simply love others too damn much.
I don't need a friend, although it might help a bit.
Yeah Brantz
The things we do to stay healthy!
Chasing the sun in cork screw patterns
is no sporadic phenomenon. They are glossed over.
Get over it.
Turn out the lights
I am choking,
shutting bedroom eyes
The thoughts of you will wash away with wrath but
All I see is you.
going about my day after having sex.
All hip hop music finally makes a lot of sense
Half a butt.
Nothing man
We are all told we are too much.
Screw you.
I had an amazing idea and decided to word vomit.
This exact moment is stuck on repeat: Peter Piper peeped a pedophilic pickle patter.
In the mud.
In pain and sweat
They'll call me an artist
The ooze.
The tears.
[Darkness.]

Compiled by Devin Willie and Brantz Woolsey

An Introduction to Slam Poetry by Chris Peck

Spoken word poetry, or slam poetry has many forms. When I was first introduced to slam, I was blown away at the ability the authors had to convey their message. It wasn't simply stating a fact, or an experience, it was an artistic outlet, providing powerful means for others (their audience) to experience what they had experienced. While I have been reading and writing poetry since I was a young boy, I had never been moved by poems like OCD, Shake the Dust, or God In Code (Hilborn, Mojgani, Cook respectively). Hearing these poets for the first time helped inspire me to write differently, about issues and topics that I felt strongly about. However, the road to discovering my voice was a long one; at first, mimicking what I heard and saw before finding how I could share my poetry.

            While I mostly want to provide some major tips to help you with writing and performing slam poetry, I want first to express the importance of finding your voice. This will be a long road for many, with a lot of trial and error in writing and performing, but it is an important part of the process. When I first started writing slams, I mimicked authors like Neil Hilborn, Andrea Gibson, Javon Johnson, and Sam Cook. They spoke with thunder in their mouths, yelling into the mic, speaking about real-world issues like suicide, racism, rape, disorders, equality, and many more. I wrote about these issues, trying my best to get the words onto the page but often times failing to convey anything meaningful in my poems. I became discouraged, thinking that I simply was not a slam poet and should stick with my contemporary, free-verse writing. It wasn't until I came across the spoken word poet, Anis Mojgani, that I discovered what I would, or could say. He spoke of childhood, of empathy, and provided an optimistic and yet existential view of life. Soon after listening to his poem For Those Who Can Still Ride in an Airplane For the First Time, I wrote my own poem Ghosts, and then When I Go, and Apple Juice. Each, showcasing my own voice. I had confidence in these poems and began sharing them.

            When you start writing and performing you will likely become discouraged; you may even want to quit, as I did. That's just the reality that comes with creating. It will take time. However, with a lot of practice and trial and error you will find what you want to talk about, what comes from your memories, heart, and experience. Slam poetry is a beautiful method of sharing with of yourself, as the poet Anis Mojgani says, in his poem Shake the Dust, “Every time I write, every time I open my eyes, I'm cutting out parts of myself just to give them to you.”

            And so, in order to better help you share your poetry I have several tips that I feel will help you get started in writing and performing your poems.

1. MAKING LISTS

One of the most effective ways I've found to get the juices flowing is to write themed lists. Lists that help you think about specific topics, or give breadth to things you are considering writing about.

2. WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW, OR NOT.

When you first start writing, write about things you are familiar with. Once you've gotten use to that, and have found your writing (and performing) style, start asking questions, and write about what you'd like to know.

3. EXPERIENCE

Poetry should relate to others. When you share it you want them to feel what you feel. This cannot be done (or at least is significantly harder) when you are writing about something that you are not familiar with. Focus on writing from experience; even if your poem is ultimately asking a question.

5. PERFORMANCE IS AN EDITING TOOL.

You learn things about your writing when you perform it. Don't think twice about going back and revising a section of your poem (or the entire poem!) based on the reactions (or lack of reactions) you get from a live audience.

6. DON'T FORCE YOUR EMOTIONS.

Most poetry invites the poet and the audience to feel different emotions. Don't force them or act them out. Let the words do their own work. Present those emotions naturally.

7. BE AN EXPERT ON THE MICROPHONE.

Know how to adjust the mic stand in case you need to. Know where the mic should be and how close you should be to it. Remember you have at least 15 seconds to get ready before people will begin to wonder why you haven't started.

8. CLARITY ABOVE ALL ELSE.

If the messenger is not clear, then there really isn't any message, is there? You could be the most brilliant poet in the world, but if no one understand you, they won't listen. Try over-enunciating, exaggerating the shape of your mouth with each word. You will not sound as stupid as you think you look.

9. EVERYONE WANTS YOU TO BE AMAZING!

Despite what you might think, the audience is not waiting for you to mess up. Nor are they hoping you do so. They want you to blow them away with your words. So do them a favor and do it.

10. HAVE AN INTERESTING VOICE.

Or if you don't, at least use a fuller range of your voice than you would in a normal conversation. Get deeper in places and higher in others. Sing! I mean it! Include lines from songs in your poems and sing them, especially if you don't think you have a very good voice. The audience will love and admire you for having such guts.

11. INSTRUCT OR ENTERTAIN OR (IF POSSIBLE) DO BOTH!

Poets (like teachers) are part entertainers. Their poems should delight as will as inform. Put a little humor in most poems (even the sad ones).

12. HAVE A FEW LINES THAT EVERYONE WILL UNDERSTAND.

If you write “non-linear” poems (more lyrical, imagistic poems that don't necessarily tell a story), be sure to have a few places where the audience can “rest” and think, “I understood that.” If you don't, they will stop listening to you.

13. NEVER SAY, “I JUST WROTE THIS POEM TODAY.”

Because it means you either want the audience to be easy on you (because you're afraid your poem is bad) or be impressed by you (because you think it's good). Better to just shut up and recite the poem.

14. GO BACK TO THE NUGGET OF TRUTH.

Sometimes we get so caught up in trying to make our poems sound like poetry that we don't let ourselves say simple, truthful, beautiful things that would help the poem immensely. Things like, “Sometimes I wished I were an only child.” Don't be afraid to leave the truth unadorned.

15. STAY STILL—OR HAVE A REASON FOR MOVING.

Movement is unusually the result of nervousness, and everyone can tell. Plant your feet and don't fidget. If you let your hands hang naturally at your sides, you will LOOK normal (even if you FEEL stupid).

16. NO ONE NEEDS TO KNOW IF YOU FORGET A LINE.

If your mind goes blank, take a pause. Don't let the audience know you have no idea what comes next. Start singing “Amazing Grace.” Make up the rest of the poem as best you can. No one cares that it's not perfect (except you).

17. TRY TO SIGNAL THAT YOU POEM IS OVER.

You know you have performed a poem well if the audience knows when it is time to start clapping simply because you start smiling. Don't be afraid to end with a moment of expectant silence. When they start to clap, stay there for a moment and collect the applause before walking away.

Compilation Poem for 2/4/16

Books spilled in chaos on the floor

We consider the things we must live without

They’ve gone the way of turtle doves and french hens

They’ll stand against the hunters before god


Leaving you free to breath and nurture and travel

Mostly unknown

Beautiful things I shouldn’t see, shouldn’t but do

Termites in the balistrade


We’re blurry now, less seperate than shared

He rips my shirt sleeves

I could not see you through my telescope

If Peter’s eyes revered his wife and not himself

Cutthroats red dash


Dressed to kill the bad man fast

By early light I am asleep in a nightmare

The room with no moon is perfectly dark

These odd numbers muttering under their breath


You rush beside me

I can’t request

I can’t think clear

I can’t understand


I can’t comprehend the damage my mind has taken

What has become of my true self

You have the last say, you shall decide

I must wait for happiness


As some optimists would say

soon the trenches and graves will green over

Smooth jazz at your fingertips

I’m happy that gravity is spherical

to me gravity is a forcefeild


Your skull is the thickest part of your existence

most would notice,

but I notice the dust

and the match with no sulfur at the tip, unstruck

so no fireworks


There is no tie on this universal rug

I smoked marijuana for the first time with a thirteen year old boy

my eyes are olive against red lines

the sting caused my breath to rise


I could see that everything around me was inviting me to grow

#aesthetic

The aroma that pierces the warm earth

blessed are those who have fun with themselves

And then I went like that and the lady freaked out

chill


After hours

you soon will slowly die inside

thoughts of falling hopes

thoughts of her filled your head

by Sierra Bennett and Daisy Allred

Compilation Poem for 1/28/16

This week's compilation poem is a new format.  We had two poets write compilation poems completely separate from each other and then we zipped them together into one poem (switching back and forth from one line to the next). Some of the line combinations were really great!!

If you've ever heard Marianne's poetry
did our hearts not sing within us
this can be dangerous
shake my darling heart
your last words will haunt me forever
to keep a hand on the latch
Something up there
when fruit becomes addictive
is brushing dandruff
no source of boundary
from his hair
when the rolling words finding their way home
don't listen carefully
a warmth penetrating from the midnight star
I regret reading that
I did not want to absorb
it's under copyright
the silence is a rotting boat
yet completely forbidden
you must heal yourself
I find that I am sleeping with demons
they were talking about how easy she is
eat that cannoli
you should be praying not preying
the potent juxtapose of bitter and sweet
becomes cross with me and eats garlic
for we loved
the slabs from the roof like standing sleepers
their entwined hands felt more emotion
my sadness was never beautiful
besides not giving a damn
her features were preserved in a death mask
I'm really tall. It's a big problem.
was her sadness beautiful?
I regret reading that.
removing dignity post mortem
fluttering wings warn me off
I am not painted in neoclassical form
with a calm voice she says "Hello, Michael" as if she had never been asleep
a moment's pause among the woad
Marianne builds houses on fields of cloth
Marianne will forever be greater than me in the cloth category
I regret reading that
kneel with your family
as you pray to
a God you might not even believe in
some things I just no longer laugh about
my sadness was never beautiful
a truck emerging out of a rock
my sadness is not your story to tell
consuming is like possession
the thirst that darkness kindles
it's a big problem
reverberating in my brain.

by Marianne Hales Harding and Michael Clements

We read it like that at the open mic, but I kind-of wish the zipping hadn't ended.  So here's the poem with continued zipping:


If you've ever heard Marianne's poetry
did our hearts not sing within us
this can be dangerous
shake my darling heart
your last words will haunt me forever
to keep a hand on the latch
Something up there
when fruit becomes addictive
is brushing dandruff
no source of boundary
from his hair
when the rolling words finding their way home
don't listen carefully
a warmth penetrating from the midnight star
I regret reading that
I did not want to absorb
it's under copyright
the silence is a rotting boat
yet completely forbidden
you must heal yourself
I find that I am sleeping with demons
they were talking about how easy she is
eat that cannoli
you should be praying not preying
the potent juxtapose of bitter and sweet
becomes cross with me and eats garlic
for we loved
the slabs from the roof like standing sleepers
their entwined hands felt more emotion
my sadness was never beautiful
besides not giving a damn
her features were preserved in a death mask
I'm really tall. It's a big problem.
was her sadness beautiful?
I regret reading that.
removing dignity post mortem
fluttering wings warn me off
I am not painted in neoclassical form
with a calm voice she says "Hello, Michael" as if she had never been asleep
did our hearts not sing within us
a moment's pause among the woad
shake my darling heart
Marianne builds houses on fields of cloth
to keep a hand on the latch
Marianne will forever be greater than me in the cloth category
when fruit becomes addictive
I regret reading that
no source of boundary
kneel with your family
when the rolling words finding their way home
as you pray to
a warmth penetrating from the midnight star
a God you might not even believe in
I did not want to absorb
some things I just no longer laugh about
the silence is a rotting boat
my sadness was never beautiful
you must heal yourself
a truck emerging out of a rock
they were talking about how easy she is
my sadness is not your story to tell
you should be praying not preying
consuming is like possession
becomes cross with me and eats garlic
the thirst that darkness kindles
the slabs from the roof like standing sleepers
it's a big problem
my sadness was never beautiful
reverberating in my brain
her features were preserved in a death mask

by Marianne Hales Harding and Michael Clements

Poem for Endurance

Eyes That See, Ears That Hear

I see it before me

Looming over me

Its size dominates me

Blocks nearly all light

The surface is smooth

Leaving me no place to grasp

No footholds to climb

The darkness and ferocity of my foe

Mock my small human form

I am so tiny

My grip is too weak

My legs have carried me

More miles than I remember

They tremble with fatigue

Before this beastly monument

This wall was not on the map

I have adhered to it always

Mountains were scaled by me

I wandered in valleys

Appreciative of their beauty and ease

The straightaways – I sprinted

All were on the charted course

My map is true

My compass has not failed me

Yet there it sits before me –

Wrong

Ending my quest before I can complete it

I am so tiny

And this obstacle so large

My grip is too weak

And there is no place for my hand

My legs tremble and buckle beneath me

I cannot win

Tears bathe my face

And water the earth

With handfuls of mud

I furiously scrub at my palms

Slowly awareness breaks through

I marvel at the callouses that have

Replaced the soft flesh

Without my notice

I rub the mud up my arms

Noticing for the first time

The strength of the muscles and sinews

My crying abates

The wall is large and seemingly indomitable

But my will is steel

And my eyes sharp

My mind is keen

On quivering determined legs

I stand

And stare the obstruction down

It is still enormous and terrible

But no longer frightening

And then, from the top

I see it,

Hidden in the shadows,

Blocked from light,

A hand

Extending a length of rope

I hear a faint voice calling out

"Take it, and I'll help you over."

Graphic Noir Poetry

I love noir.

I love the detective, whodunit stories.
I love the intrigue,
the long shadows,
the smoke clouds
and Venetian blinds.

I love the jazz bellowing from pool halls
and the reflective static rain.
I can't get enough of it.

When I leave the office
at the end of a long day at work,
I light it up and breathe it in.
I crack open a can of it when I get home.
I pop some in my mouth as I sit down at my desk
to draw out the seeds from their tough shell.

 And when I reach the fin of the day,
I still feel the ache for a little more
in my dark bones.
I stretch for more,
but the .45 of sleep hits me
and I'm out cold until
I awake in the dark.
Noir.