Tag Archives: joy

100 Years

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She watched them on the treadmills
and stairmasters
jaws set and eyes fixed ahead
moving rapidly nowhere
hoisting weights and snapping ropes
rowing in place on the cement floor
muscles grateful for the challenge
and reprieve from ergonomically designed chairs and desks
protein shakes clutched in hand as they exited
carefully temperature controlled buildings
and navigated the short walk
to their cars

Life lived in comfortable box after box
everything easily accessible

She sometimes wondered
if we are happier and healthier now
then when we woke and hunted
breakfast by climbing the hill
in search of berries or rabbit
watched the sunrise from
the banks of rivers
as we collected water
diving in and swimming when warm

Vaccinated to safety
we view our world through windows
we run in place
breathe the purified air
eyes fixed for 100 years
to the screen ahead

NaPoWriMo Day 29

Found Poem: One Text Today From My Daughter

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The. You. I love.

Sierra.
You are the best of all the Mom.

The new one
and only a small group in

The. You.
I love it

and I have no clue who they really are
the same thing over and over
a month or two
and three of us who we are

the only one of my friends to play the game is on my iPhone
is so much better now than ever before

I go back in time and money to get my money

on the way you can do
go home.

Sierra the best thing about it

but it doesn’t work on my iPhone

to be able
too many people have to be

 

Julie Ayers (& Sierra)
NaPoWriMo Day 29

Career Advice

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I was taught
that I should take satisfaction
in jobs well done
rather than songs well sung

In Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs
poetry holds nothing up
puts no coat on your back
or sushi in your belly
you can’t make the mortgage
with verse or lyric
only with your busy hands
and business-minded savvy

Life a To Do list
and worth measured
by how many items get ticked off each day
me running down the middle on Myers-Briggs
one foot everywhere
but with a head preferring height
so I can see forests
even though I’m good at counting trees

I’m too easily frustrated
by the arithmetic of itemization
instead preferring two plus two
equals lotus flower
Guy Garvey keening The Night Will Always Win
the ultimate rhubarb custard pie
Picasso
laughter from someone dancing alone
bike pedals twisted with indigo ribbons
a well wrought urn

April 22, 2013
Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo #22

Peculiar Vanities

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I will lay myself bare in front of you
strip the skin away from muscle
turn my spine to bed for flowers
roll in the shallow
cicada larvae my only adornment

peculiar vanities
fretting over the spidery purple spread of veins
across legs long ruined with fists full of cigarette paper scars
trolling for topical cures
when the real monsters are gnawing deep on bones and myelin

dancing myself back to life
week after week
chasing alternative endings

hubris

age, infirmity, disease
life so sharp
it ribbons me to words

white flags don’t flatter my coloring
I’m a winter
burning red

I’ll samba on the frontline
shake it
with or without a doctor’s note
until the flowers
consume every cell

then I’ll sing
shout with the wind
rattle the trees
so you never forget

become your springtime
© Julie Ayers
June 2012

Squeezed

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Back 30 years, when I’d walk for miles across campus to my classes with my head filled with
little kicks, he-men in sun showers, goodbye girls and 2nd floor hotel rooms, flannels for faces, stained notebooks, hearts filled with nails, and black coffee in bed, I felt the calling, and calling, of thoughts and ecstasy and regret joined with trenchant melody.

I’ve wanted to write a poem about how music makes me feel, but know I’d be defeated by any attempt. How can I possibly place nouns and adjectives and verbs in precise lines to express the power the strings of notes and evoked images have over my pulse and respiration? How a song can suddenly fix me in a spot and change everything. How my heart can feel like it is shattering because of how someone intones a list of words or plays a sheet of music. How my horrible day can be transformed in an allegro. I’m buried, still breathing, but in lilacs. I burn. I rend. Exalt. Expire. My skin becomes inadequate to contain all of me and I expand without limit, blur with the person or article next to me. I am tree and grass and ottoman and weeping glass and my best friend and the stranger who is whooping with joy. I shimmer, embody ecstasy. Transcend.

© Julie Ayers
April 2012 – NaPoWriMo 27

Transcendence. Photograph by Julie Ayers