Category / napowrimo

by J.L. Smith

This one was published in the now defunct Yellow Chair Review

Sitting in the Bathroom with Nothing Better to Do

The shower water raged
above my apartment but it did
nothing to dampen his voice.

Get out of my way!

His anger seeped into my
bathroom wall, pouring
in from his living room
on the other side.

That’s more money spent!
What have you to say for yourself?

The gentle voice tried to patch
the cracks in his voice, but
still the water wept in.

I tried, I really tried.
Leaving my bath tub ledge,
I hoped the pipes would clear
by the time I returned with the mail
and they did stop.

Later, as the hot water washed over me,
I remembered his nod and
the puppy’s happy tail as both
greeted me outside.

I waved with my letters in hand;
He waved with the soiled rug and
torn newspaper before returning to
his small friend,

I can’t believe you did that.

 

by J.L. Smith

Poetry Post-A-Thon #2

This was my comeback publication. After not publishing for 16 years, I ended up publishing this in the 2015 summer solstice issue of Cirque.

Femininity

With my femininity under my arm,

we hustled down the dusty

shell of a broken college town,

past the crooked props

that used to sell feed

and pens to students, where

I offered my femininity to my fiancé.

 

He refused it.

 

Passersby frowned and jeered:

The wrinkled grape thought it was

best suited for a child;

Her charge thought that I was just too old.

 

A fluffy pink, the doll’s dress was

–with pink bows, of course.

Blonde with pigtails, the hair was

–with tight curls, of course.

 

Shattered sidewalks failed

to absorb the shame,

as my femininity receded

into my ragged college jacket along

with my spent youth

and thrift store receipt,

only to allow patches of its plastic

head and feet to emerge

when I least wanted it.

by J.L. Smith

Poetry Post-A-Thon #1

Posted over 3 years ago…

This is the one that started it all.  Although I’ve always considered myself a fiction writer, I’ve published mostly poetry.   Of course, I have just returned to writing and publishing after a 10 year sabbatical of sorts, so we will see if I can get some fiction published.

In the meantime, this is the first poem I published.  The funny thing is, I never intended to write poetry; poetry found me.  This is the second poem I had ever written.  It was for Jon Tribble’s beginning poetry class at Southern Illinois University Carbondale.  I struggled every week for something to turn in, while it seemed everyone else had a workbook of material to pull from each week. After that class ended, I took a gamble and sent this poem in with two others to Grassroots for its Fall 1999 issue (yes, that long ago!).  This one was accepted.  Enjoy!

Sara

Cool September breeze ruffles

the cheap, tattered peach color hair tie.

Lovely off-white recital gown

laced with light pink ribbon lays loosely on your skin.

A dull plastic pearl necklace—

perfect for the performance.

Luscious cantaloupe colored gloss,

fuchsia nails as possible finishing accessories

The stage cages you with its cheap metal.

There is no release.

Death is the only null in your contact.

But, even death would never redeem

your torture whether it be in heaven or hell.

That never mattered—

they still wanted more.

They went ahead.

Poked your side.

Yanked your tail.

Batted your head.

You are not human.

You just wear the dress

your owner gave you.

Feelings are not yours to feel.

You are incapable of it.

They said so.

What happens when you are the monkey in the cage?

by J.L. Smith

Poetry Post-A-Thon #National Poetry Month

I am celebrating National Poetry Month at the blog for the entire month. What better way to celebrate the month than to post poetry? I will be posting some of my earliest works that I have published in various literary magazines over the last 4 years. Sadly, some of the magazines have gone defunct, but nevertheless the poetry remains.

Anyone else want to participate can certainly do so! I can be yours or someone else’s work.