Got into this wonderful little meme created by writer friends Adam Byatt and Jodi Cleghorn. The brainchild of Mr. Byatt, the idea is to write poetry: good, bad, weird, funny, any kind of poetry on post it notes throughout February, take interesting photos of them (you don’t have to, though, there are no real “rules,” as I understand it) and post them online to Twitter, Twitpic, Instagram and/or Facebook. For Twitter, Twitpic, and Instagram we are using the hashtag #postitnotepoetry.
After 1 week we now have 42 poets from across the globe writing and posting poetry.
I started on Monday, so I’ve been at it a full week.
Below are my first offerings to the Post It Note poetry gods:
Monday, February 4, 2013
A Dumpster Diver in the Space-Time Continuum
the old garbage-sifter
filters through
the junk of days gone by,
comes across a crumpled-up photo
of some middle-aged man
in a three-piece suit
sitting on a sofa
with a pretty woman
in a red flowery dress.
he stops.
stares at it
with a moment of something
he can’t quite explain
longing, maybe…or regret.
then he tosses it aside
and continues
his never-ending
search for sustenance
never realizing
that he’d just touched
a moment in time
an image of himself
from happier,
remembered days.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
poem as myth
sky, she takes a deep breath…
exhales slowly,
nightfall
becomes an indigo blanket
draped over the horizons;
embracing her sister Gaia,
and holding her
bright
star children,
in her wide, wide arms.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
philosophy of mirrors
philosophy of mirrors
i only show
the outer view
if i could show
the inner you
i would shatter
into shards
every time.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
the cat
the cat
lying by the fire
odalisque-like,
lean and languid,
stretches…
toes unsheathing
daggers.
yawns…
wide mouth reveals
sharp, white swords.
sighs
and purrs…
contentment.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Going Bukowski
Going Bukowski
on the gallows
dangling from the end
of a rope you didn’t knot.
it’s not your rope.
it belongs to
some other son-of-a-bitch.
remember that.
remember that it’s not your rope
stringing you up.
don’t hang yourself
with someone else’s rope.
go Bukowski on the motherfucker.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Cantito
Cantito
“¿Va a cantar para mí, pajarito?” he asked.
“¿Sólo un cantito?”
“Sí, papá,” she said,
and singing through her tears,
watched him close his eyes
and thought:
“I am like a canary,
come too late.”
Little Song (English translation)
“Will you sing for me, little bird?” he asked.
“Just a little song?”
“Yes, daddy,” she said,
and singing through her tears,
watched him close his eyes
and thought:
“I am like a canary,
come too late.”
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Soul of a Poem
Soul of a Poem
A poem is a mighty thing.
A poet’s words weighty with wit.
But unless some of the soul is contained therein,
I won’t believe a word of it.
~~~~~~~
Well, that’s my week of Post It Note Poetry writing. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep the pace up of writing a poem a day, what with college classes and all, but I’ll do as much as I can.
I hope you take some time this week to enjoy some poetry, either reading it or writing it. 
