I found a pile of poems I wrote a few years back...

[Katherine Brengle]

It was in the bottom of a drawer with a bunch of other old things... (Forgive my ever-inventive lack of titles...)

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(This is my favorite.)

i lie
like broken glass
from bar brawls turned street fights
in the gutter
not shattered, a few big pieces
survived the crushing tires of
drunk driven cars
but mostly i am
tiny shards
impossible to reconnect
glittering in the
moonlight like so many
stars
only less beautiful.

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(This one was based on a conversation I had with a man I had been seeing casually and had basically thrown away for no reason other than my own messed-up-ness at the time... I ended up marrying him, lol, but the first line is something that he said to me (exact words) and the 2nd, though cheesy, is in reference to our hangout, which was a karaoke club.)

we're cool
just not like before.

it's a pretty good crowd
for a saturday
and you're across the bar, talking to her
instead of me.

i don't miss your conversation
your sad looks
your words of love
but still something stings.

this pin prick
distortion of the familiar
comfortable
even when i wasn't comfortable with you.

i didn't love you
barely liked you
but wanted you
to love me, to like me, to need me

not to need to be loved in return.

needed the feel of your lips pressed against mine in the rain
just to erase
the past
just to aid
in my forgetting.

you were there
not to reconnect the pieces
but to make more
and to crush them into sand
so i could brush them away

instead of picking them up.

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(This one was written after a really bad breakup about three years ago. I had packed up everything that he ever gave me, that reminded me of him, in the back of my old station wagon with the intention of throwing it all out, but I inevitably forgot and ended up popping the hatch one afternoon for my spare tire and...)

i keep your pictures in the back of my car
with a blown out tire and a box
of old shoes.

they can't speak to me
from there
collecting dust along with gifts and
half-empty antifreeze bottles.

a cd you left behind the last time
we made love
never plays, only sits
beside your gifts and pictures in the back of my car.

ironic--johnny cash singing
everyone i know goes away in the end.

it doesn't matter that i keep your pictures in the back of my car
because you are everywhere around me
everywhere inside me
nowhere to hide.

another month will pass
no words, just time
and they keep telling me that it won't matter
that i keep your pictures in the back of my car

but when i pop the hatch
for that half gallon of antifreeze
the world will stop
just like today
when i see your pictures in the back of my car.

---------------------------------

(This one is just depressing...)

desperation--

you can smell it
taste it
feel its heat from across the room

i can feel your eyes roving over my body
unhealthy
cold
hungry

how is it you can always tell
when my guard is down
when i am alone, tired, broken
when i want someone to take me home
just to make him go away?

no need to look
i can feel you creeping toward me
that same calculating look in your eyes

just leave me alone
i want to be alone
solitary, in this crowd

don't drive me home when i've had too much to drink
don't call me, don't call, just don't

but you do
and i answer
and moments later i am opening the door because
i can't take another night alone.

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And that's all she wrote (or at least all she kept). Just thought I'd take the opportunity to share. I don't usually do any creative writing--almost exclusively nonfiction--but I like to dabble now and again.

[frogmarch]

1. Bravo!

Katherine, I'm awestruck. Your poems are wonderful! Poignant, honest, beautiful. Every phrase is perfect and strikes just the right chord.

More, please!

[Katherine Brengle]

2. You are far too kind...

I haven't written any poetry in awhile, but when I do, I will make sure to add it here.

Thank you for the compliment. :)

[oneighty]

3. Very nice

You might consider posting these in the poetry group too. I have poems over there..all those I ever wrote in fact.

Did you ever notice that a poem is actually a short story one that can be built upon.

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[Katherine Brengle]

4. I didn't even know there was one until a min. ago, lol. I'm gonna check

it out tonight.

I agree that poems are often the shorter versions of "short" stories--it would be an interesting idea to do an experiment and try to expand them into the stories they are representing...

[oneighty]

5. The poetry group

is SLOW moving and starves for attention. There are nice efforts hiding out there. Worth a scan now and again.

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