Compilation Poem for December 17, 2015

It’s going nowhere right now, and I don’t know where it’s supposed to go 

You in the depths of heaven and the eagle in power,
She sat down in the water, gasping at the wet on her skin —
and I only wish the heavens saw your beauty as we did,
a glint of golden light upon a tress

I created a found poem from things said at her funeral
That’s when I noticed the bright pink shoe peeking out from behind the bushes
Brother and sister Coyote, I basically embodied detachment
A trail led up the hill to stone steps, which she had not noticed before
Welcome, young wanderer
she jumped in the lake to sail with a drake
What does love look like? Long drives with no destination
kitty is a week’s holiday

I lied to you because kissing you was never an impulse:
a poisonous kiss — your voice is now a cutting violence
by memorizing and reciting “a drake is a male duck”

The thing about lemons is that they’re sour,
the venom of a hundred years rising like sap —
deep into damp furrows forgotten;
skies swirl and arc over a tombstone tree

We’re going to have a slam and the winner gets a pastry of her choice

Compiled by Dennis Clark

Compilation Poem for November 12, 2015

They wish to remember it all at once
I hate this poem. I hope it's the only time I recite it.
He was my north, my south, my east, my west
He was a poet that liked to vomit into grand pianos
then digested all my brains
one more strike and he'd be dead
our mountain home so dear
so be it when I grow old, dear tampon,
a spectre searching for souls to keep
a summer sound in a summer without end
in an unknown alphabet.

Compiled by Marianne Hales Harding

Compilation Poem for November 5, 2015

You are always going to have fun. Remember that.

Twisted rope of day

Swan beaks on chest of drawers

Box of Umbrellas.

When you are gone,

toiling and tiling the bathroom.

This is my song,My song in Hollywood.

I might be weird but... no you get to live your life around me!

Hard act to follow, long dead monkey head.

Intense geometry, dance of geometry.

Tiny voices,

Tiny voices: 

Wibble wable weeble a;lskdjf sa;l dflksajf sdlf;j asdflkj....

Servant girl to the connection. 

Servant girl to the world wide web.

Wise man knows this is a stencil.

Mix gene pool.

Next big thing- you have no value.

Detective for the wrong reasons.

Take the Snake.

Order is good.

Follow surf line, feel seaweed.

One must be careful. Why? Because experience teaches me how vulnerable I am. 

Which patterns should or shouldn't I wear?

Taught myself.

Cold shell.

Lungs work against me-

Try to understand-

It's chill... It's chill. 

Washing fingerprints from walls. 

Not one to slump under sentimentality. 

Favorite dress with flats that match.

Smooth hair for shine.

Irregular flickers.

Knee deep in,

church bells....

I evaporate.

Be There.

Untitled now.

Sometimes I cry.

Come up short.

Too many actors are unemployed.

Self Image out of focus-

Burn it all!

Don't have a lot of learnin... I Do! I'm Smart!

You have to improve on the blank page,

And God says Yes, Yes, Yes!

Maze of tiny streets.

Lost without a navigator.

Deeper and Deeper in foreign territory,

But in the same church yard.

I want to...

I want to...

I want to...

There's an ocean of life in front of me.

Less awkwardly.

Sing to sleep not concert halls.

Songs save my heart and brain.

Song means I have something more to give.

Play me to be your friend.

Brain is running a marathon.

In 2,3,4, Out 6,7,8.

Everything is Fine. Everything is Fine! 

Broken, broken, broken.

I don't have anything but frogs, but not enough frogs.

Why do we try so hard when this will end.

It doesn't matter if we win or loose.

Foot prints fade.

Take the challenge of Life.

You. Are. Beautiful.

Strive to be the best version of you.

I don't think it does. Funny story.

Ones you love drifting.

Chasing was too much.

Forget.

Fall out.

Over.

No confusion.

Compiled (and sung) by Elisa Black

Compilation Poem for October 15, 2015

Holy Lists of Home

for viewing assassinations in real time

before your very eyes

deep, dark like the ocean

nature's split book of erosion

through their own ever changing faces

found on aisle 9

we don't live anywhere near London

sometimes I cry my way through it

just a dream

I will still throw you a rope

Dennis, can you hear me?

he sacrificed the sacred

holy, holy, holy

magicians and black and white television shows

I lost a little bit of my blood and my dignity

and you said it was a blow to your ego

it felt odd to completely re-brand myself

breakups fucking suck

it kept me from seeing

stereoscopically

smoking out of that damn bong

before she started to swim upside down

perceive the world psychedelically

that was my first mistake

I had that dream about you again

I am somewhere you can't see me

I feel I should explain to you first

we will call that holy

because beauty was only in my dreams

the devil knew my name

in a place called Jackass Flats

slit by the peaks that shadow the valley

stripped of petals, deflowered

to find the same face, ever watching

with wings that never folded

so the applause continues

not silky pole dancers

my home is here with this mic

totally

just another day at the beach

always know your vehicles clearance

you miss meteors

in a gulf of emotions

Compiled by Father Sluggo

SFYS is Growing! Join us!

SFYS has reached the point where it can no longer be a one-man-band organization and I invite you all to share a bit of your time and skills to help this community keep growing and being a resource to Utah County writers.

If we all do what we can, this big job is very doable.  What I am asking is that we each look to see what interests us and what is within our skill set and commit to that area of interest as a part of the administration of Speak For Yourself Open Mic.

For example, being on the host/MC schedule generally means committing to attend one Thursday a month (the commitment will be less as more hosts sign up).

Another opportunity is to write articles or submit creative work for the blog and/or help recruit others to do the same (and format and post the content).

Another opportunity is to regularly update the SFYS Instagram.

Another opportunity is to research free advertising opportunities and pursue them (for example, we are on many of the local online event pages but not all of them and the listings do expire eventually and need to be updated).

Another opportunity is to coordinate educational outreach with Utah County Schools or other arts organizations.

Another opportunity is to recruit features and/or make fliers.

Admin opportunities can be found at the SFYS Open Mic Admin group page, which is a public discussion page on Facebook.  Anyone can post ideas for how to help SFYS grow and if a posted opportunity is something you can take on, reply to the thread.  I look forward to working with you!  You are wonderful writers and I feel tremendously lucky to be a part of this writing community.

SFYS Open Mic Admin Page: https://www.facebook.com/groups/591146174317440/

Compilation Poem for October 8, 2015

Pink petals mix with cloudy debris
Waves crashing, kissing the shore
Naked feet in straw sandals
I can feel the surf swirling around my ankles
Forget me not, the night says as it slips behind the moon
Be still, be quiet
A whimper disturbs the air
Paralyzed vocal cords
A sorrow so deep, you're left unable to breathe
The once one are now two
A constant mystery: you.
I never told you my wishes because each one was a prayer
I expect too much by expecting anything at all
I've wasted talents and abused love
And I fall and I fall until I hit rock bottom
Finishing the road that is never ending
Let us suppose there is no afterlife
In blank ink, my love shall still shine bright
And the only light to show it was from a lamp post and the last light from the west.

Compiled by Sarah Dutton

Compilation Poem for October 1, 2015

A poem for my Daughter

40 years past it's prime.

These lips read truth,

the noise that is not you.

 

Did you, brother, become the widow's son?

The text of your next tattoo?

Completely lost, a near miss,

dear Daughter, your secrets are safe with me.

 

What are you counting on your fingers,

dear Ishtar?  I hate being sick, nostalgia,

waves of the past.

With fiends like these, who needs friends?

 

A river of steel, of molten lead, and you,

you are just a drop!

Oh Hush October, shadow of

events to come.

An imperfect curl, where society works

a broken ankle, when the melody gives way.

A sacrifice to the Beast!

When darker thoughts arise.

 

Hearts desires, gaps, holes,

things we want to say.

When the tea kettle whistles-

I just miss you.

Compiled by Paul Francis