Lullaby

Watching Disney Movies

I wrote this today in class, in about 7 minutes which is the time we were given. First we took a notecard, wrote an activity we like to do on it, put it on the ground, then someone else took it and put a form on poetry on the back. Then we put them all in a bag, shook it up, and drew one to write our poem about. The one I got was to write about "watching Disney movies" in "free verse" so here it is.


I'll make a man out of you
says the Asian man in charge
but I don't want to be made
a man
says I to the Asian man in charge
back on the screen
as I watch
Mulan
running through the mountains
the wind blowing
leaves through her dark hair
as I sing along
Just around the river bend
but what is around
the river bend
certainly not the seagull
blabbering to the strange
lady fish and fish
as they go back
under the sea
darling it's better
down where it's wetter
take it from me
no I'd rather not
thank you very much
but I will take the hand
of that very handsome man
I danced with
once upon a dream
dance with me
as the owl toots
and hoots a beat
as we ride off
into the distance.


Copyright Christine Locke

The Forrest

Taste of blue; the ghosts roll in; fickle
fog; fickle fog; fickle
Just me; why just me; is it just me
Rum on wood; a softly bitter taste; succinct
rain; succinct rain; succinct
Sugar in ashes; an erotic asphyxia; nimble
dust; nimble dust; nimble
Wild to chains; a quiver in the leaves; wary
shadows; wary shadows; wary
Flesh of solidity; this winking warning through the trees; curious
light; curious light; curious
Are you; where are you; who are you
Sugar in ashes; an erotic asphyxia; nimble
Rum on wood; a softly bitter taste; succinct
Taste of blue; the ghosts roll in; fickle
Just you; with just me; let it be just you and me.


Copyright Christine Locke

Unremebered

Here's another poem I experimented with commas instead of my usual line breaks, and with "un." This poem I wrote can be performed and was originally written for that, but I've decided after reading it again that I like it just read as well.


Of unremembered things, that was an understatement, and under the sink, you were, in your underwear, I understood you wouldn't, move unless I undressed, from your unpleasant smelling dress, which I didn't understand, why'd I'd be wearing them, in the first place, unwanted, until I saw you, under the sink, unrelenting and stubborn, unmoving and unkind, I tried to understand, what was to be understood, but I didn't, want to undress, with you under the sink, in your undergarments, unless you had someone, to impress, then I'd undress, the wretched dress, so you'd understand, in your underwear, of this, I unremember.


Copyright Christine Locke

Unexpected Things

Written on a whim while waiting to be picked up the one day I didn't have my car...I also intend for this one to be performed.

I didn't mean to get so close these things one dreams of but never expects to happen when fantasy exists in reality it's almost too much for the constraints of reality to handle then the boundaries break and you're stuck in this fantasy trying to be reality because you've lost the reality there can be truly no longer truly anymore these things one dreams of not to actually happen like quicksand it all happens so fast and you are really sinking faster and faster deeper and deeper is this a fantasy of the reality that is the fact of the matter that you could be dreaming but no one expects that to happen and your sinking sinking faster faster deeper deeper it's all ok it's only a fantasy of my reality but which is which I can't escape I'm stuck and only becoming more stuck in this muck of these things one dreams of and soon I can't escape and no one can save me but is this the reality of the matter of fact or is it all just fantasy because I suddenly can't seem to breathe...

Copyright Christine Locke

Of Chickens and Roses

This is the first sestina I have ever written and I learned about it and started it in my poetry class. It is a fun and enjoyable form I find and will most likely continue writing other poems in the sestina form. The end 6 words I picked were the first 6 words that came to my mind. They are an unusual mix and I'm not quite sure what I was thinking or feeling at the time to make me come up with such a combination of words. Yet it was a fun challenge and I still get the strangest imagery every time I go back to this poem...


The morning smelt of roses,
I found my sister in the yard playing with the chickens,
as she was wearing my mother's favorite shirt made of cashmere,
I smiled as I watched her and ate from a jar of peanuts.
Watching the feathered birds move fast, like lightning,
I then made a note to later buys some cherries.

When I finally left the house to go to the market and get cherries,
a finely dressed man passed carrying an armful of roses.
My pace quickened because in the sky was lightning.
I passed by a shot that was filled with chickens,
then took a shortcut through an alleyway littered with peanuts.
I hoped my sister didn't ruin mother's cashmere.

I have no idea why of all things she chose to wear the cashmere.
Having reached the fruit stand I paid for the so desired cherries.
They were sweet and crisp, not hard and chalky like the peanuts,
the woman who sold them to me, her cheeks pink and delicate like roses.
When I would return home, I hoped my sister would be done with the chickens,
for the sky was dark and gray and the clouds were filled with lightning.

Just as I came back, our house was beneath the lightning,
and what was resting so softly on the porch was the cashmere,
covered in white feathers left from the chickens.
I picked up the shirt, went inside, and ate all of the cherries.
Alongside the sink lay an armful of roses,
I turned and blinked in surprise, while knocking over the jar of peanuts.

A pair of quiet shoes walked through the scattered and crushed peanuts.
I glanced through my window, and flashing brighter than before was the lightning,
Illuminating the soft velvet and darkly beautiful roses,
like the delicate and ruined shirt made of cashmere.
My sister looked at the dropped jar, then asked about the cherries,
while outside was that nicely dressed man, tending to the chickens.

I asked who is the man feeding the chickens,
and she asked if he is the one that likes peanuts.
I didn't know except I saw him when I went to buy the cherries.
Then it had dawned upon me like lightning,
that he had bought my mother such fine but now ruined cashmere,
and the evening suddenly smelt of roses.

In the yard were all the roses but none of the chickens,
and on the chair lay the cashmere, but crushed upon the floor were the peanuts,
as the lightning struck upon the finely dressed man holding the pits of the eaten cherries.


Copyright Christine Locke

Smoke

This poem was originally very short with only 5 lines. At the time I felt that was all it needed, but as I went back and read it, my mind began to work and I feel like I've developed it into a better poem than what it was before. Still simple, and that keeps the original tone and idea of what I had before revising the poem.


Like an open window, let my breath escape
so by chance you may catch it and breathe it in
like the second hand smoke from by the liquor store

Like influenza I'll spread through your veins
and impregnate your thoughts with my addiction
unwanted but thirsted for

Like the itch you can never satisfy
you'll gasp for air
but only catch my breath.

Like an open window
letting the smoke from the liquor store in
maybe you'll become addicted and want more

In that case, I'll be here lingering
like the second hand smoke from by the liquor store.



Copyright Christine Locke