Landfill Poem

I'm in a geology class. We had a landfill field trip today. For extra credit I pimped out my skills as a writer and wrote the dreaded "extra-credit" poem. (and yes I did include what I 'learned' in the class in my poem, it's all true fact, I swear! No really clovers to apparently grow on landfills after their capped off full). Even more alarming, I actually like it so much I thought I'd share it with you, #twitterverse. :) Please comment and tell me I'm not a loser or you can re: with your own impromptu landfill poem. Either way it's win-win.

Ottawa County Landfill

Up the graveled dirt we trudged,

us would be geologists; past

metal fridges and tire halves

while the turkey-vultures swoop

in circles way above.

I saw the tall cattails sway

in mucky brown slush; and

heard the horn of a

tall truck pass, filled to

the brim with methane muck;

and the landfills worth will

mostly never be known

above the grass caped trash

where sweet green clovers

grow.

Try for Me, by N.E.Avery

Try for Me

This is the voice you’ve given me: yes sir. right away sir.

This is the face you’ve given me: black.

This is the lie you’ve told about me: abortion is my number one killer.

This is how you’ve broken a race: turned us against ourselves.

Now, my eyes are open.

You pin me down and scrap me clean of ambitions

if I fight back you lapel me “viscous”;

Truth be told, it is my fault; 

I’ve allowed myself in your web to be caught

Now, my thoughts must be spoken.

I’ve gotta try

try

try

try for me.

To My Child (as i die), by N.E. Avery

To my Child (as i die)

"the flower in
the garden knows
of death
as it dies slowly
each autumn.

but does the sun
mourn the dew
drops in the
afternoon?

nor should you
mourn the flower.

Let it go, it will come back again.
Let me go, I will begin again."

"Dominoes In July", N.E. Avery

Dominoes in July, In Our own Words, 2010 (print)

“God gave me lemons and ain’t nothin’ sweeter
than this iced lemonade in my glass here!”
“Are you going to play, May’jo, before the good
Lord our savior comes back?”
“You better hush now Merl West Sims,” she said but laughed.
I listened to them talk as I rocked back on my heels
keeping score beneath the cool
shadowed shade of the porch stoop.
The hot hard heat beat on my granny and her sister.
They lifted their glasses—sucking the cold ice dry
when their lemonade was gone and
talked to each other while they played—“Ten stitches in your britches!”
“Put down twenty for the weak side, gran’ baby!”—
I scratched it down with an old pencil.

Madam and the Rent man

Madam and the Rent Man
from The Selected Poems of
Langston Hughes

The rent man knocked.
He said, Howdy-do?
I said, What
Can I do for you?
He said, You know
Your rent is due.

I said, Listen,
Before I'd pay
I'd go to Hades
And rot away!

The sink is broke,
The water don't run,
And you ain't done a thing
You promised to've done.

Back window's cracked,
Kitchen floor squeaks,
There's rats in the cellar,
And the attic leaks.

He said, Madam,
It's not up to me.
I'm just the agent,
Don't you see?

I said, Naturally,
You pass the buck.
If it's money you want
You're out of luck.

He said, Madam,
I ain't pleased!
I said, Neither am I.

So we agrees!

Madam's Past History

Madam's Past History
from The Selected Poems of
Langston Hughes

My name is Johnson--
Madam Alberta K.
The Madam stands for business.
I'm smart that way.

I had a
HAIR-DRESSING PARLOR
Before
The depression put
The prices lower.

Then I had a
BARBECUE STAND
Till I got mixed up
With a no-good man.

Cause I had a insurance
The WPA
Said, We can't use you
Wealthy that way.

I said,
DON'T WORRY 'BOUT ME!
Just like the song,
You WPA folks take care of yourself--
And I'll get along.

I do cooking,
Day's work, too!
Alberta K. Johnson--
Madam to you.

"The Russian": Robert Bly

THE RUSSIAN

“The Russians had few doctors on the front line.
My father's job was this: after the battle
Was over, he'd walk among the men hit,
Sit down and ask: 'Would you like to die on your
Own in a few hours, or should I finish it?'
Most said, 'Don't leave me.' The two would have
A cigarette. He'd take out his small notebook—
We had no dogtags, you know— and write the man's
Name down, his wife's, his children, his address, and what
He wanted to say. When the the cigarette was done,
The soldier would turn his head to the side. My father
Finished off four hundred men that way during the war.
He never went crazy. They were his people.

He came to Toronto. My father in the summers
Would stand on the lawn with a hose, watering
The grass that way. It took a long time. He'd talk
To the moon, to the wind. 'I can hear you growing'—
He'd say to the grass. 'We come and go.
We're no different from each other. We are all
Part of something. We have a home.' When I was thirteen,
I said, 'Dad, do you know they've invented sprinklers
Now?' He went on watering the grass.
'This is my life. Just shut up if you don't understand it.'”

Emily Dickinson: "Wild Nights"

Wild Nights--Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile--the Winds--
To a Heart in port--
Done with the Compass--
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden
 

Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor--Tonight--
In Thee!

Troubled Woman: Langston Hughes

She stands
in the quiet darkness,
this troubled woman,
bowed by weariness and pain,
like an
autumn flower
in the frozen rain.
Like a wind-blown autumn flower
that never lifts its head
again.