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Zywa Dec 2021
The tuba stays here,

I can't play it anymore --


this very last time.
"Landverhuizers" ("Emigrants", written for a friend who emigrated to Colombia, 2018, Carmien Michels)

Collection "Appearances"
Anais Vionet Jul 2021
(a thought rendered as a Senryu poem string)

A thought - proffered
by a jackal of a boy
that I dislike.

Has stayed with me
with an irritating,
cold dissonance.

For several days
- I’ve been turning it over
- somehow, it rings true.

“All romance aside,
in the long run, we must be
mutual *** objects.”
Is love like a flexible, 3D object that changes, in aspect, with need?
Demi Oct 2020
The shower curtains gets stuck to my
leg as if it knows I need to feel a
comforting touch.
The kettle steams my glasses
and gifts my eyes a rest.
At night the fan whirrs and rotates
as if scanning the rooms for threats.

Living alone isn’t as lonely
as you might think.
ce-walalang Sep 2020
these are the things that fall,

an apple,
some leaves,
droplets of rain,
and then of tears.

almost all heavy objects,
(including) my sleepy eyes.
the sun at the close of day.
the stars on a dark sky.

the sky,

and my heart, for the only thing that didn’t (fall), your heart.
thank you gravity, thank you fall
Amanda Kay Burke Sep 2020
I wish for things to get better
But wishes don't come true
Birthday candles
Shooting stars
Eyelashes
I've tried them all

Upon a friend I wished one day that they would never leave
Yet I look around me presently and that friend is nowhere to be found

If only to escape my disappointment I have boycotted wishing altogether

I do not put faith in people
Ideas
Or objects anymore

Instead if wanting something
I go out there and make it happen myself
I used to wish on 11:11 every night I even had an alarm set for it but those days are forever gone
Anna Magill Jul 2020
Silver and still, dull and bright, soft and light.
Reflecting all the lights of the world;
Rocks dug from the crust of Earth.
A metallic taste of veins filled with wine-colored blood,
And the smell of household cleaning supplies.
Crinkles and pops of popcorn and cereal stacked in cabinets. T
he creaking of a door and raindrops on a tin roof;
The chill of a brisk wind,
Taking away the heat of a summer day.
Letting planes fly, as light as a feather,
Taking us high above the clouds to distant cities.
When it was found, how could we know;
The treasures it gives us now.
I wrote this poem in a class where we had to describe and visualize the different senses of Aluminum foil.
Kairosclere Jun 2020
It’s just
Easier
To write about 
Objects
Because while most people
Are monotonous
Objects at least
Have variety.
Out of the edge
The very corner of my eye
In the free-standing vitrine
Assembled under plexi
with various small pieces
all 1800s
In what at that time was
a richly coral walled gallery
Deliberately
A small marble bust
Yes I’m calling you out
Although I don’t know your accession number
and you’re no longer on view
Nor will be
any time soon
for that matter
You took advantage
You waited until my very last
moment’s attention
and as I turned my head away
a quick trick
the head turns
A flash of movement
Or movement is how I understood it
Because that’s what my brain
told me it was
You know that I saw this
of course
since you did it on purpose

At the time I told you to cut that **** out
NOT FUNNY
Or words to that effect

I thought that that’s
how you must handle such things
And I still do
It’s childish

Yet it only comes to mind now
That you must have done this countless times
To so many
The contexts endless
Though it must get old
But you
are old

It would be nice to know when it started
And why
this parlor trick
For I’d never felt watched or scrutinized
or judged

by objects on display
which is what you are
Particularly in this gallery

you went straight to
“provocation”

Perhaps you meant
“help me”
but I doubt it

One imagines that anything would eventually get sick
Of being looked at
Heads leaning in for a closer
examination
You’re such a
little thing
which may be part of the problem
It could feel like a curse
to forever be a
lapis lazuli ormolu encrusted vessel
for the rest of eternity
It never occurred to me.
I never thought what must it be like?

Trivialized to surfaces.
Put on the shelf.
To fall out of history.
I should have understood more quickly
of course

I remember hearing
that an old drawing done of myself
had been on view in a gallery
without my knowing
without anyone bothering to mention it besides a vague
throwaway
aside
made well after the fact
like a tossed cigarette ground into the sidewalk
outside a dull party

I don’t remember the image
but some part of me was hanging on some wall nonetheless.
Had it done anything untoward
to some poor **** walking past?
An alchemical interruption?
I certainly hope so.
Confound dominion.
Assail the event horizon of metaphysical politesse and proprieties.
Defy a petty corporeal quarantine of sorts.

To throw off this mantle
if for just one split second.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Unfit Gifts
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

At sunrise, I cast my nets into the sea,
dredging up the strangest and most beautiful objects from the depths ...
some radiant like smiles, some glittering like tears, others flushed like brides’ cheeks.
When I returned, staggering under their weight, my love was relaxing in her garden, idly tearing leaves from flowers.
Hesitant, I placed all I had produced at her feet, silently awaiting her verdict.
She glanced down disdainfully, then pouted: "What are these bizarre things? I have no use for them!"
I bowed my head, humiliated, and thought:
"Truly, I did not contend for them; I did not purchase them in the marketplace; they are unfit gifts for her!"
That night I flung them, one by one, into the street, like refuse.
The next morning travelers came, picked them up and carted them off to exotic countries.

Keywords/Tags: Tagore, translation, Hindi, unfit, gifts, sunrise, nets, sea, depths, objects, smiles, tears, cheeks, love, lover, mistress, flowers, verdict, bizarre, refuse, trash, garbage, travelers, exotic, mrburdu
ari Feb 2020
dewalt yellow construction stereo
marysville lumber coffee mug
plastic blue butter knife
fire
red solo cup
black metallic lantern
smoke and ash
trees towering above
red case containing coffee grounds
a blanket of sunlight
journal excerpt from 2018; i wrote a list of things around me that caught my eye
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