The maiden voyage of my blog


Hello world. I’m Bee, and welcome to my shiny new blog. My intent is to post at least once a week a new or old poem that I’ve been working on. I like constructive criticism, but if the only thing you have to say is liked it or didn’t like it, that’s all right by me.

Today’s post is actually a two-fer. How cool is that?

We Get Along Like a House on Fire

His smile was like dying in a best friend’s arms
Bittersweet and warm, so comforting in its truth,
Teeth glinting through the haze. And how can I say
What is right or wrong when the stars hang low
And everything is illuminated in red and blue,
Flashing on the sidewalks and bricks while my home
Burns to the foundations, drowned in uniforms and water.
At least you’re alive at least you’re safe, but
How can I be safe with no place to go home to?
I must begin again, molt and shake off these ashes.
I must build again after the waters recede, and find
A new place to belong. Insincere apologies and pity are
Worse than worthless – this much I know is wrong
In this limbo I sit in, neither lawn nor street,
Surrounded by faceless gawkers and uniforms and
I have never felt so alone with their eyes all on me.
Under the endless cloud of smoke belching out of my wreckage
His smile seemed independent from his soot-stained body
As he held his reflective jacket on my shoulders with
Whispered reassurance that this too shall pass,
Among all else, this loss will diminish until the day comes
When a lit match no longer conjures dreams of the inferno.
And how can I say he is wrong when I hardly know my
Hands from my elbows, my knees from my ears, and
My lungs are still screaming that there isn’t any air left?

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

Sunset Over Oshawa Creek

The trees are black against a pastel sky,
Twigs and branches feathered outward.
The water is fire, and the sky is water,
And I feel I’m floating on the breeze.

Their voices call me but I wait here
Floating gently with the water of fire
The sky of water and the solid souls of trees.

Don’t wake me, don’t tear me from
This peaceful vista, such pleasant escape.
If I had some skill with brush and colour
I’d capture this world and bring it with me.

At last I turn, extinguish my cigarette
And nod goodnight to the sun
Splashing colours over this town’s face.

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

And there we have it. As I said on my Facebook, I’m not entirely happy with Sunset, but I’ll fix it up as I go. I’m going to repeat what I posted there:
“This obviously doesn’t come close to the feeling I wanted to capture: standing in awe of the sharp orange-red-gold light rippling on the creek while the sky is fading to indigo and the trees are so clearly defined without their leaves, and then someone texts me but I’m soaking up nature’s beauty so fuck that they can wait however many minutes while I watch something amazing unfold right in front of me.”

Let me know where you think I can improve. Any author or poem recommendations would also be lovely. Thanks folks.

Advertisements

2 Comments

Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “The maiden voyage of my blog

  1. Nothing like starting out with a two-fer. From your ‘about me’ page, it appears you write about anything, not necessarily things you have experienced personally. It’s obvious you are a writer, and from your first posting, it doesn’t look like this is your first rodeo.

    If ‘House on Fire’ isn’t from personal experience, damn, your good. I’ve been at a lot of fire scenes, and your description is spot on. It is a well-written, emotional piece, which rings true. A bunch of the small details (red and blue—holding the reflective vest on your shoulders) makes me believe in the poem.

    As for ‘Sunset,’ either you have come back and reworked it, or if you are still unsatisfied with it, you have exceptionally high standards. You have a great way with phrasing. Nothing feels forced or contrived. You are speaking to your audience, in free verse, in terms anyone can understand. That’s communication. It isn’t as easy as you make it look—at least, not for most people. I can’t wait to read some of your rhyming poetry.

    You will have to excuse me for dropping back here to your first post. I enjoy doing that when the blog in new; because of that filthy habit, I’ve had the pleasure of watching some so-so writers blossom. You began your post with an advantage because you already know how to write, but I’m not sure how new you are to poetry. It will take a while to go through all your stuff.

    Bee, you’ve got talent. I’m glad you commented on my blog so I could locate yours. Now, for the record, you can delete this rambling mess. I just wanted to drop by and see who you were. I will be reading your entire blog in the days to come.

    Good luck and keep writing,
    Mike

    • Hey Mike!
      Oh, I’ve been writing poetry since… well, I started in earnest in 2007, so I was nineteen. I wrote some really awful stuff before that I have thankfully buried in my teenage journals – I sincerely hope no one ever finds it. My English lit prof at university prodded me into writing creatively, and practically ordered me to send the things I was writing then into the lit magazine based at my school. Haven’t been published yet, but every year I try again 😀

      You’re making me blush. I haven’t ever been in a house fire, but I’ve seen photos and I’ve seen a couple houses after the fire – the suspected grow-op fire had started in the middle of the night, but it was still smoldering when I got out of band practice at half past three. I imagine it’s a very visceral sense of loss, and I took that uprooted chaotic feeling and went with it.

      I’m still unsatisfied a bit with Sunset. I’ve arranged and rearranged, moved lines, shortened them, lengthened them, ripped apart thesauruses (is that the proper plural? It sounds wrong), and still something bothers me. Actually, this is pretty close to the first draft I wrote, aside from a couple punctuation marks because I tend to add those later in free verse- line breaks are much more important. But I know better than to pick at it every day- it’s best to let things like this percolate, and eventually one afternoon I’ll have it. I think it still feels unfinished because that was the most beautiful winter sunset I’ve ever seen -like, spiritual experience kind of beauty- and no words can ever do it justice but I keep trying.
      …I have a touch of perfectionism though, I will admit to that.

      I refuse to delete your comment, on the grounds that it is one gigantic compliment, and I am very fond of those.
      Good luck with the rest of the blog, my friend. I couldn’t stick to a once-a-week; it has become a near-daily exercise.

      Thank you again for your kind words! I’m going to take a little trip through your archives over the weekend, I think. Keep at it as well! I really like what I’ve seen so far on your blog.
      -Bee

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s