IMPROMPTU
By A. Jarrell Hayes
More from A. Jarrell Hayes
FICTION
Detecting Magic with Dick Hunter: The Mort des Hommes Files
POETRY
FREE E-BOOKS
Smashwords Edition. Copyright © 2009 by A. Jarrell Hayes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The poems in this collection were written during the April 2009 Poem A Day challenge from Robert Lee Brewer’s blog “Poetic Asides” on Writers Digest online. The prompts came from the challenge. Visit the “Poetic Asides” blog at http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/.
Thanks to Mr. Brewer, Writers Digest, and all the challenge participants.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
April 1 (Origin Poem)
"The Origin of Origin"
O decided to make a word, so he called
R and told her to bring a friend. She chose
I, but I couldn't go. So I let
G know about the event, and he said
I should ditch my other engagement with
N; but I decided to bring them both along instead.
And that's how we got the word ORIGIN.
April 2 (Outsider Poem)
"Summer of 17"
I hope I didn't look too suspicious
Standing in line with eyes pacing
Like a panther caged in a zoo.
It didn't matter; by the time I got
To the front of the line
And handed my I.D.
To the bouncer
I knew I was finished.
He took one swift look
At the plastic card,
And then me, and sent me
Scattering to the four winds
With a series of curse words.
Seventeen is such a useless age.
April 3 ("The Problem with [Blank]")
"The Problem with Problems"
I had a problem,
I tried to solve
Knowing it'll never dissolve.
I could have study Holmes,
And if I did so long enough
I could have discovered the solution
Was elementary.
However, I don't have the patience
For that. I'm pretty much lazy.
Yup, that's it.
Whoever said
"Knowing is half the battle"
Needs to divulge
The nature of the other half.
April 4 (Animal)
"Ode to Happy Feet"
Keep on dancing,
Because you can't sing.
Keep on dancing,
Because joy is what you'll bring
With those happy feet.
April 5 (Poem About a Landmark)
"Fort McHenry"
I sit on the cannon
That sits on the hill
Overlooking a bay
With water as dirty
As history
And polluted with industry.
Then I close my eyes,
And my poetic mind
Leaves me
To travel onto the sea
And stand aboard
The deck of the
Nearest clipper.
I open my eyes
And stare back at
The other me.
Only, I'm not looking at me,
But behind me
At the flag that still stands.
April 6 (Something Missing)
"The Missing Part"
I never knew it was missing
Until I held it in my hands,
Like vodka in my mouth,
For that brief moment.
Then ... it was gone,
As if I had swallowed
The vodka with no chaser.
Memories of our
Joining are like
Rusty knives:
Stabbing and lacerating;
Leaving trails of rust outside
While infecting with disease inside.
April 7 (Clean or Dirty Poem)
What the hell is this?
That comma is out of place;
And you call yourself a writer?
You are such a disgrace.
Your spelling is a joke,
Your grammar even worse.
Your imagination is lacking.
You are simply a curse!
Out of my sight,
Until you clean up your act.
You will never get far
By writing like that!
April 8 (Poem About Routines)
"Putting On Pants"
Smell pants for freshness.
Left leg in, left foot comes out.
Repeat for the right.
"Commencement Day"
My final chance
To make myself known.
A jig and a dance
To call my own.
I'll take the plaque,
But I won't shake your hand.
I sat too long in the back:
Now as a graduate I stand.
April 10 (Poem About Friday)
"Weekend Worker"
Most people love Fridays,
But I hate them.
That's the day
When the most jerks
Decide they want
To try on dresses.
Sure, the commission is great,
But those stuck-up bitches,
With their husband's
Platinum cards,
Carrying filthy
Diamond-collared dogs
And fancy cell phones,
Don't realize how difficult
It is to bite ones tongue
When being berated
By someone without talent
And whose only skill
Is her ability to spend
Other people's money.
Doesn't that heifer realize
The store is closing,
And I, too, have a life
To attend to?
Maybe I have plans
For tonight
Beyond peddling
Evening gowns
Until 10 p.m.
April 11 (Poem About an Object or Objects)
"Cup Haiku"
There's nothing special
About the cup, until it
Is filled with liquid.
April 12 (Poem with the Title: "So We Decided to [Blank]")
"So We Decided to Keep It"
The ragged thing kept staring
At me with blank, beady eyes.
My boyfriend turned his head away
In disgust; and I cried.
I cried because it looked
So pitiful and helpless;
As if its existence depended
Upon our acceptance.
But how could we appreciate
This ... thing that appeared
One day, as if by magic,
Upon our doorstep?
We didn't plan for this,
And we could easily toss
It back out into the world.
But that would make us
Heartless.
We didn't want to be heartless.
In order to sooth
Our guilty conscious
We decided to keep it.
April 13 (Poems About Hobbies)
"Discipline"
The discipline required
To master the art
Of waking at 5 a.m.
Is part of the training.
The other part is forcing
Your mind to suck it up,
Endure the burning calves
And sore ankles.
The final part is telling the body
That the mind was right.
April 14 (Love or Anti-Love Poem)
"The Dead Side of Love"
I carefully lay you down
On the table,
Not wanting to damage
Your delicate flesh.
I caress the curves
Of your body,
Tracing your story
And how you came to me.
Your smile is written
On every inch;
The DNA of your happiness.
Allow me to return you
To your former glory
When you lay,
Beautifully and loved,
Amidst the tears
Of family and friends.
April 15 (Rename Title of Favorite Poem)
"The Rap Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
Get down on it!
I spit that hot shit.
I'm the man
Your lady wants to get wit'.
I've been doing this
For way too long
To come out
With a weak ass song.
Forget Michelangelo;
I'm the big Mandingo!
But I digress.
Let me get up
In your dress
And show you why
Prufrock is the best!
Peace, and I'm out!
(Original title "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot)
April 16 (Poem About Your Favorite Color)
"Black"
You're not even a color:
Just a shade,
A shadow of hue.
You absorb all the light
From the world
Into your being,
And defecate
What cannot
Be digested.
April 17 (Poem with the title "All I Want Is [Blank]")
"All I Want Is ... "
All I want is ...
Because ... will bring
The best out of me.
... will cause my sorrows
To dissipate, because ...
Is what I dreamed I would be
When I was a child.
Or, maybe, ... is what
I thought I'd find.
How ironic that I don't
Even know what ... is.
April 18 (Poem with an Interaction)
The journey never ends,
Because the wind never dies.
Feathers and wings pretend
Not to hear its cries.
Song of wild tornadoes
Echoes from beaked mouth:
"The land of Barbados
Lies warmly to the south."
"Climb aboard my back
And I shall be your guide,"
Answered the wind to the black
Crow sitting at its side.
The unilateral partnership
Between nature and bird,
Reminds me of the friendship
Between poet and word.
April 19 (Angry Poem)
I sit in the Halls of Congress,
My glass trembling in my hand.
I sip it slowly, hoping the cool
Crisp liquid will calm
The bubbling lake of brimstone
That once was my stomach.
The mere thought of the purpose
Of my presence before
Mighty lawmakers,
Who wear suits made
From the Constitution
Tailored by the founding fathers,
Causes me to lose sight
Of my speech.
The words I use to address
This gathering of patriots
Are not the ones I've written,
But are the grumbling
Of the earth they tread upon.
"Release"
The dead shall rise again
And the captive set free.
These Bible verses
Kept him hungry
With an appetite
The mess hall scraps
Could never sate.
Manacles and bars
Reminded him everyday
Of his mistakes.
The outside world
Doesn't laugh at him,
Nor does it scorn him;
He is simply forgotten.
Ever since he vanished
From public life,
From their rose-tinted eyes,
He's been less than
A Nobody,
Becoming a Never Was.
But when he reemerges
Back onto the perfume field
He'll transform one more time,
And embrace his new life
As an Ex-Con.
dead leaves of autumn
lovingly drift down to earth;
covering corpses
April 22 (Work)
"Habitat for Mankind"
The plane ride
Was the longest
Of my life.
Maybe because
I could barely contain
Lightning bugs
In this little jar.
And when the plane landed,
I knew I was in for hard work.
The wreckage provided
Enough lumber for the task,
But we required fresh trees,
Newly separated from life,
To rebuild with.
It only seemed right.
It only seemed just
To tear down one habitat
To build another.
“Mating Dance”
One misspoken word:
Insert foot into mouth.
Lost chance;
First impression
Left lazily
Dancing on the floor.
Not very graceful
In movement
Or in sound.
Keep dancing,
Far away,
Sloppy drink in hand,
Towards your next victim.
April 24: (Travel)
"Kilos"
long windowless seat
boxed in conditions
plastic shield
tumbling joys
shifting sorrows
hidden, sought,
persecuted
sold = use
found = death
hand over hand,
abuser to abuser
pink boats sailing
on yellow seas.
April 25 (Event)
"Labor Day"
First Monday in September,
Last day of Summer;
Nighttime awakens
Incubated soul.
Pain, sobering
And divine,
Gives strength
To the unborn,
Saps strength
Of onlookers,
But strengthens
The one who toils.
She siphons courage
From the power of
Eve's lineage;
And gives birth
To a little Adam
Or a tiny Lillian.
April 26 (Miscommunication)
"Closed Set"
The event itself wasn't bad:
Though there was violence
And screaming
And blood flying.
But it was a film,
And what was bad
Was when the cops arrived
And broke up the shot.
"Kitty Blues"
Sitting on the desk,
After sneaking passed
A giant to get inside.
The reward was well worth
The risk of
Being lifted from the ground
And carried to the exit.
Eyes and ears perky,
Full of life,
Straining to sense
What lies beyond
The glass shield.
Paws claw at birds
That fly by,
But only scratches air.
The seasons go by
From cold to warmth
And back to cold;
I still sit on the desk
Waiting for my chance
To prance amongst
The trees,
Snatching birds in my jaws.
April 28 (Sestina)
"The Alchemist"
I did all this while practicing alchemy:
My sins borne and carried, for the love
Of the gods in heaven.
Write my fable down in history,
Before our time here is lost,
And eternity is but a death note.
Please, I beg you, to note
My craftiness as an alchemist;
Blending science and magic and love
To defy the gods in heaven.
My trade is rich in history;
Forgotten but not lost.
It is mankind's loss
To change alchemy
To the science of loveless
Chemistry; please note
The somewhat heavenly
Aspects of the former's history.
To hell with wicked historians,
Brought by money's love,
Eternally noted
As having lost
The pride of an alchemist,
Opting to bow at the throne of heaven.
Gaze upon the heavens
And tell me what paradise is lost?
Stars and planets, too numerous to note,
Await the wrath of history
And the intellect of an alchemist
To show them true love.
Now, tell me of your love:
Of the propaganda of heaven,
Altering man's history
Until the final note
Containing the art of alchemy
Is squeezed dry and lost.
And what is love, but a fond note
Written in a lost script, ripped by history,
For heaven's sake; only to be reassembled by an alchemist.
"Never Laugh During A Funeral"
Though it seems common sense
Not to chuckle at a funeral,
It could be difficult
When your sense of humor
Finds pleasure in the darker
Crevices of human nature.
"He was a good man ... "
No, he was a thief
That cheated and beat
His wife, who happens
To be a grieving widow now.
"Who loved his children ... "
Nope, sorry, wrong again!
This is the first time
I've seen him in years,
And he's dead!
I can't even remember the last
Time we talked.
I find this all very amusing:
Paying a priest
To come before family,
Friends, and God
To bear witness to the life
Of a jackass
He never had the displeasure
Of meeting.
And all you "mourners"
Are just as phony:
How many times have I heard
You proclaim you couldn't wait
Until he's dead.
Well, you got your wish!
Not unless your tears
Are tears of joy,
Save the waterworks
For a martyr or a saint.
I won't ask for forgiveness
For my laughter;
I just find it amusing
That nobody mourned him
When he was alive,
As he ate his life away
With anger and alcohol
Long before the cancer
Finished the deed.
April 30 (Farewell)
"Say Farewell to Farewell"
Eyes closed,
Thoughts open,
Mind resting.
Notice nothing,
Savor everything.
Twilight's kiss.
Mornings welcome
Evening's goodbye.
Say hello.
Open eyes,
Close thoughts;
Mind: awake!
Tomorrow shall
Say farewell
To farewell.
ABOUT THE POET
A. Jarrell Hayes is from Baltimore, MD. He writes poetry, fiction, and blogs. Visit him online at www.ajhayes.com.