Thursday, July 24, 2014

Poème, 16

The Ad Says:  Spirited. Adventurous. Intuitive.

Don’t change, you say,
inspired by the song of love triumphant
and the scent I wore when you first loved me.

You say you like it,
whatever it is,
when I curse myself
for being too much of this
or not enough of that.

And I guess that does about sum it up.

Even when I don’t,
you love me
as I am.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

In a few days my husband and I will celebrate our 16th Anniversary.  Poème is the fragrance I wore back when we first met and is also the title of a work by Amédée-Ernest Chausson which was originally subtitled The Song of Love Triumphant .

Saturday, July 19, 2014

Rant/Dance/Bleed/Fly…at the Poets Pub

Like a sweaty mosh pit?
Well no,
that’s not it,

Like a rave?
With neon rainbows and ecstasy?
Nope, not that either.

Something a lot more classy—

or less,
depending on what’s on their minds.

Oh I get it,
like classic
rock ‘n’ roll.

Hmmthat’s good, too—
but no, it’s more than that,
more like
a symphony

of nations, tribes and tongues—
to each other,
what they have to offer,
there are many ways to rant/dance/bleed/fly.

Yes, yes
that’s more like it.

you can still
bring your Bic lighter
and bang your head
in the glow
if you want to.

Because whatever your preference,
they’re playing your song.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Bring your crumpled paper, your scribbled on napkins, your laptops, your tablets for the dVerse Poets Pub 3rd Anniversary Celebration!  Brian and Claudia and the whole staff open the doors and invite any poet, anywhere to share their voice and to listen in.  I’m sure I join others in saying that I owe them a debt of gratitude for all the work and love they put into keeping the Pub going.  And to all the poets who gather there, you have enriched, enlightened, inspired—thank you for sharing your words.  Meet you there!

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Down Deep

a summer rain
a giggle in your sleep

crying, the good kind

the smell of coffee
the first sip

breaking the last of anything
in two
giving away the bigger piece

the end of a good book
the beginning of it





© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Sunday, July 13, 2014

17 Trillion Is Just a Number

Burst the lock,
release the chain,

we ask for different
but get the same—

save (sell) our souls
in forward exchange.

Our customary currency:
owe the Reserve, owe the Chinese,

bail out you, bail out me,
come one, come all, handouts are “free”!
We’ll see who’ll hold the master key
come the year 20-16

and be the next
to blame the wreck

on the last jalopy

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.  Michael (Grapeling) has provided a list of 10 words for us in which to craft a poem.  I used 5 of the 10 he offered.

and the Poetry Pantry

US Debt Clock:  17 Trillion and Counting

Sunday, July 6, 2014

To a Poet, For a Poem

I listen to the darkness,
the beautiful kind
when the lights are off,
and I close my eyes
and see the last light
burned into my mind.

I sit, in my poetry nook,
in the corner of the room,
in a chair, arms leaning, at rest,
my feet propped.

I listen, listen,
ceiling fan low,
box fan high, pointed toward me
to carry the sound
of the silver crackle
of the millionth star
no less wonderful
than the first.

And it might be yours, the only light
in this dark room tonight.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For all you beautiful, amazing poets out there.  Thank you.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

ordinary summer nights

photo © 2014 jennifer wagner

we’ve been
thirsting for this all year—

when we cut the edges off
with soft flecks
of twilight
that stream
the warm air,
bespeckled with

sprinkler water









to the carefree kiss
of bare toes
that splash and dash

with smiles—
for s’mores,
for watermelon,
for staying up late

but mostly
for each other,

to share
the extra-
sparkle with

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Sunday, June 22, 2014

tilt the semi-axis (in cinquain)

Glasshouse at Chihuly Garden and Glass – Seattle, WA
Photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner

ice cold
kind to make you pucker
the scent of fresh-mown grass, ahhh it’s

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Just for fun for Poets U (Midweek Motif:  The Longest/Shortest Day, Solstice and Poetry Pantry).  Happy Summer!

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Scrapbooks and Fireworks

Summer’s kisses past
are in my dresser—

caresses pressed
between pages
like petals.

A thousand moonlights
are in my closet,

and wished upon stars

s          p          r          i           n         k          l           e

s          p          a          r          k          l           e          s

in a box on the shelf.

But summer nights,
and moonlights,
and stars—
like night lilies,
like fireworks,

are best
in their living,

like you,

here & now, owning

with more than just a memory.

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

Thursday, June 5, 2014

a word is just a word is just a world

photo © 2014 Jennifer Wagner

who knows
what may come

what may grow
from an open palm,
a seed pearl

slipped from its shell
into dark fleshy loam

sweetness?  light?
drought?  blight?

who knows
what may come

from paper to lips

both dust
and sugar bowls

to the tip,
to the tip,

from word
to poem
the ink
is drunk
or sipped

and a new world jewel

and/or blue

it’s up to the reader

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

This is for dVersePoetics - Seeding, where Shanyn invited us to imagine our words as seeds. 

She makes the point that “Words have power, but like seeds, we don’t often get to see what goes on beneath the surface and can only observe what is growing after it comes out of the soil.”  I am too late for the link, but here is my offering.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Last Monday of May

image by deegolden

The weird Y at W Bostian Rd reminds me of the little house we rented when we were young and living on love.  When I drive it I think of our oldest son slicing his thumb with a razor blade in that garage trying to cut into a tennis ball to see the “guts.”  That afternoon I was pushing his little brother in one of those kiddie cars in front of the house when he came out to me, blood dripping from his hand, a brave and amused smile on his face.  I took him inside to survey the damage.  I admit I had to sit because the room was spinning.  And it hasn’t stopped.  I suppose it never will.  We’ve added two more sons and each have gotten cut badly enough to have stitches, but I’ll never get used to seeing them bleed. So on this day of memory and honoring I say a prayer for the mothers who have had to endure so much more.

memorial day
a mother’s heart

© 2014 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse:  Meeting the Bar-the haibun, a combination of prose and haiku.