Cry of the Stars

is that
really a name?
it sounds like sauce:
    "I'll have the chicken in francesca,
    please."
   
(by that I mean
it sounds exactly as Italian
as it is, and I'm clueless
about the items on my menu anyway.
francesca salsiccia,
edoardo parmigiana,
eggplant antonio - ignorant
consumer that I am,
I'd be fooled.)

I don't know anyone
named Francesca. that's
probably why it sounds like sauce
to me, because there is no
solidity to its meaning
until I have a face,
a voice, and a mind
to call 'free one' and see
how well it fits,

so francesca means food
for now, endlessly silly
until a soul - palpable
and eternally interesting -
comes along to
give the name a body.

I shut my eyes and all the worms drop dead.

When the world was worm-luscious,
I took the worm less traveled by
beside the worm chickens.
Let us go then, you and I,
when the worm is spread against the sky.

And now, like am'rous worms of prey,
in the room the worms come and go,
talking of Michaelangelo.

(The Chinese worm and the British worm:
My vegetable worm should grow
vaster than empires and more slow.)

And I have known the worms already, known them all--
The worms that fix you in a formulated phrase.
O my Luve is like a red, red worm,
The yellow worm that rubs its back upon the window panes.

Spit in my face, you worms.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet
and somehow
the;
              w
                       o
                                    r
                           m

Out of the ash I rise with my red hair
and I eat worms like air.

--
murdering featuring poems by: Billy Collins, e.e. cummings, John Donne, T.S. Eliot, Robert Frost, Andrew Marvell, Sylvia Plath, Kurt Vonnegut, and William Carlos Williams

written by: Davina Lee, Emmie Moffitt, Julia Stevens, and Haleigh Swansen

I.
There: the murmuring music of blackflies
in my ears, the haunting hum of crystal wings
hovering so near! One magnificent creature
lands gently as a fat mosquito,
washes his face with dignity, and bites.

(Slap-smack. Oh gosh, ew, oh—)

This long hair tangled through my hands
    would burn me with temptation:
Oh, please unwind these golden strands
of long hair tangled through my hands
--though loss of silky warmth demands
    a cold, wrenching sensation--
Long hair that's tangled through my hands,
    don't burn me with temptation!

I stand and watch the growing gloaming
glowing bright, more brilliant than a fig.
Imagine: somewhere beaches foaming;
elsewhere, pigeons balancing on twigs;
still elsewhere, elephants arising
early, when the sun's still cherry-red--
and last, a spiky fruit surprising
some poor soul by dropping on his head.
The world is split up much like pie,
and you may only have one slice for now,
but that's why I would like to fly,
so I can see it all at once. Look, a cow!

Emmalee
flaps very stupidly
and thinks forty-two chromosome
makes you dumber than a garden gnome.

--
This is an absolutely terrible clerihew, but please click that link.

A ghost came to your window
very late last night;
I don't know why you let it
give you such a fright.
That ghost was really just the
other half of me.
(The disembodied half, you'll
understand.) And we
together make up one old
person who is dead,
but she has got the "heart," and
I have got the head.
She is more like Granny dear
than I will be again,
because she'd rather talk to you,
and I just want your brain.

This happened on Thursday night.
--

Haleigh, 9:20pm:
The night grows short and
my patience grows shorter still.
Post, you poet, you!

Me, 9:35pm:
i'll write a poem,
but i have one calc problem
left for me to do.

Haleigh, 10:24pm:
that wasn't a hai
ku. If you'd said "I will," it
would have been one, though.

Me, 10:30pm:
what? Haleigh Swansen
says that word as "pome" instead
of "po-em"? how strange.

Haleigh, 11:02pm:
people who say it
that way say "poe-UM", my dear.
That's not right, either.

Me, 11:10pm:
I stand corrected
on that second syllable,
but there are still two.

Haleigh, 11:16pm:
I just read the link...
OK. I'm the faulty one.
You are free to mock.

sky stretching bright
the sun blazing hot;
new people nicer
than first i had thought.

blue into green
green into blue,
my hand is so tired
from mixing you two.

i guess these all are
memories to keep.
i wrote this lame poem
and crept off to sleep.

One by one they come
Downright stinky wretched pests
Completely vermin

Authors note: Stink bugs are the worst T.T

falling slowly, into mire gloomy
the overseers sings songs of groovy
there is nothing more to lose
tossing heavy with humor, an ocean of gastric juice
what more hides behind the veil?
the grey fog gathers close to wail

hope dons a heavy iron crown,
while the people who pass wear the same frown
the mocking bird smiles slyly,
his garb, a choker of overgrown ivy
tomorrow will forget the wind
as society seems to be quiet blind
the rain is inclined to take a bold chance
so, let us all enjoy this hypnotic trance

tell me it is not a farewell you imply
even though elves have not an intimidating battle cry
forever's march is still yet never ending
however, it's all the rules we'll be bending
your lips are cracked and dry
bobby stole your rhubarb pie

bloodstained tears cover the skies
for, picking mushrooms blindly is unwise
every page falls to its death,
by the cringing hand of bad breath
hear the harsh tone of fire's crackling roar
the reality of everything dear is never spoken for
she weeps unheard in the cold moonlight
come, dance to polka's muse with me tonight

mcf.

Little cows look down and smile,
munching and dreaming for a while
Dry Summer's wind hastens to come inform,
that this weather is far from lukewarm
Mr. Cow's tail is inclined to swat at the flies
Summer is under quite the sticky guise

mc.fogger
*in dedication to our lovely new face lift. long live the cow!

Elevation,

inhale

exhale

grasp

Clear,

blue

Tranquil.


~

Orthodontic Love

('tis for a story I may or may not be writing)

Her orthodontic headgear glint,

as the soft sunlight gleamed perfectly

And her eyes shown with splendor

The metal framed her face just so

She glanced my way,

And bobbed her head kindly

Her perfectly braced teeth,

adorned with bands of pale pink,

smiled ever so gently

-McFogger (=ellie)
(A silly kind of thing. Meant to be taken lightly. I've had braces for rounded to a year...or was it two? My brother had headgear. Just silly and rather fun to write)

Authors note: Percy, this one is for you!
~Mia

Gently twisting locks of golden brown
Three groups nice and neat
Down her back the plait secured
Apt to any eyes that meet
Proper for a girl of nine
Free of hassle she can run
And catch a breath at ease and fine


Inspired by Doctor Alec’s views on a 'fashionable society' and its tolls/effects+affects (Doctor Alec being character from Louisa May Alcott’s Eight Cousins)

A paper rustle
Reaching into your pocket
Abraham Lincoln Smiles*


*okay…this bit was metaphorical o.o”