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Thoughts at 3am

A butterfly cinquain, just for you! Posted at Poets United.

thoughts at 3am

the smoke
drifts up from my
wreckage into the fan blades
dispersing my thoughts into air
the smoke
from my ruined body floats on
over the city lights
into darkness

© Bridget Noonan, 2011.

So I was going to wait until July 1st to break it to you guys. But I had better do it now.

I’m taking a break from poetry. I need to work on my novel, that neglected beast.

But fear not! It’s not like I won’t be around. I’ll check in on things; if you leave a comment, I will respond to it. And if you leave me a link to a poem you have written, I will be sure to read it, and likely comment upon it as well. I’m just not great with multi-tasking, especially when it comes to writing.

I’ll likely be back at the beginning of August to drop off some things I have been working on, and perhaps even an excerpt of the novel. But again, I’m terrible at multi-tasking, so I can’t really put 100% of my effort into both outlets. Things tend to go a bit pear-shaped when I do that.

But as far as a return to poetry full time… I can’t give a time-line on the thing. Perhaps September? Later? Earlier? Que sera, sera. I just hope you don’t forget me 🙂



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Strike Anywhere

Woo! Yesterday I got to a thousand hits on the ol’ blog! Only a month into the thing. Man, that’s cool. Is that good, for a blog? I feel good about it.

And the things I don’t feel good about today? Fuck ’em, who needs that bullshit.
So in the spirit of “fuck ’em, who needs that bullshit”, I present a poem. It’s about the end of the world as we know it, I guess. I actually kind of hope we as humans take ourselves out- it’s kind of our turn, since we’ve toasted so many other species on purpose (and who knows how many by accident). A love song to “mere anarchy” being “loosed upon the world”, I suppose. (Yay, Yeats)

Of Kerosene and Phosphorous,


Strike Anywhere

All it takes is a flick
The mix of certain chemicals
But the result can be so
Destructively beautiful.

Sometimes I wish others were as
Carelessly cautious as I am,
Striking matches on curbs
To light a sly cigarette, and
Firmly stomping stray embers-
Just in case.

What freedom, to let go;
To dance while the world
Burns around us like Nero;
To help it along with a splash
Of gasoline, ethanol or kerosene.

Let us drink to the end of the world!
Let go of inhibitions, and do
Do exactly what we feel is real
Live and love before out of time
Strike Anywhere and everywhere.

Pour a dram out for the dead
Grab your shot-glasses and matchbooks
For yesterday ceased to exist
And tomorrow isn’t coming to save us.

© Bridget Noonan, 2010, 2011.

And to continue this trend of recommending music to people, I suggest giving the album Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan a listen. That is, if you haven’t already; I think it’s been out for like thirty-five years, at least.

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an Ode to Socks

So apparently over 50 people looked at my blog yesterday! That is big news for me, considering I started this thing not even a week ago.

Onto why we’re actually here.
This is a silly poem. I love that it is silly.

*Disclaimer: I know I called it an ode in the title, because it is praising something, but it doesn’t really follow the classical conventions, blah dee blah strophe and antistrope, hurr durr epode, Horace and Catallus are rolling in their graves, whatever. Suck a lemon, sourpusses :P. I had a stupid day at work, and this is one of my favourite poems I’ve ever written.

An Ode to Socks

Socks, socks, beauteous socks!
Fuzzy and warm, made to be worn,
Covering toes, everyone knows,
Lucky are those with socks!

Knee socks, black socks,
Argyle, tube style!
Don’t wear them with sandals-
That’s the source of scandals;
When feet are kept hot,
You know what you’ve got:
A lovely old yet grandiose
Solid or striped, spotted or bright,
Cotton, wool, synthetic or silk,
Unbelievable pair of socks!

Love a good pair of socks;
Simply divine, no holes in mine,
Styles are vast, without bombast,
Lucky are those with socks!

©Â Bridget Noonan, 2007, 2011.

Yes, I wrote this in university. I’m pretty sure I was procrastinating doing something and decided to have fun instead. Those who lived on or around the Barnyard floor will recall this was taped to my door for months, because of its inherent badassery.

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