NaPoWriMo #7/30 - Friday Morning Rain

Friday Morning Rain

by Ieisha McIntyre

Rain falls gently to pavement.
Pad-taps out the rhythm of the day,
slips soft-silent through the cracks in the soil
and rises puddle.
Waits glass patient for my shoe.


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NaPoWriMo #6/30 - The Miracle of Sleep

The Miracle of Sleep

by Ieisha McIntyre

Falling away into darkness
--my eyes are closed
as windows with drawn curtains.

My mind--set free and active,
goes to play upon the landscape of forever.

Finding bits of reality--
here and there strewn over
every geographical point of the unseen.

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NaPoWriMo #5/30-Mr.

Mr. 

by Ieisha McIntyre

I wish I could tell you how many times
I looked at you and your forever before
I decided that it could
not be my ever after.

But, there were too many times to count,
and too many days have gone by to remember exactly
what it was that made tomorrow with
you put a bad taste in my today.

I wish I could tell you, but I can’t.

And, you’re over it.

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NaPoWriMo #4/30-Soul Tending

Soul Tending 

by Ieisha McIntyre

There are Gardens inside each soul--
where the spirit speaks to the creator.
Gardens lined with lush trees,
trees with branches that hang sleepy and watchful over fresh grown lilies.

There are gardens in our souls,
that carry the full scent and memory of love.
Love that has taken up care and pulled out tender weeds,
deep rooted weeds, pulled effortless with even the gentlest of breezes--love.

Plush moss of verdant green couch the ground
--make soft the harshest of places.
In our souls, there are sweet soft places, yearning for care, and tending. Safe sheltering places, where fruit rests heavy and fresh in the palm.

Fruit pulp-full and juicy sustenance. Peel back the rind and sink in your teeth.
Taste the sweetness of tended places.
Let the juice slide onto your tongue and creep toward the throat of you--nourish.
Let it squeeze free of your lips. Slide down your chin--feed.

Feed on this fertile love, make yourself ready to reap harvest.
Make yourself ready to offer free entry to those
in need of the peace--
the garden.

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Lotuspapillon (aka) Ieisha McIntyre Opening for Adam Falkner!

Opening for Adam Falkner @ UWTacoma

Wednesday March 31st  was one of the most heartwarming and life affirming experiences I have had in a very long time.  Adam Falkner is not only an amazingly enlightened and talented poet.  He is also a wonderfully inspired and inspiring educator!  He has a soulful singing voice and I hope one day soon he will put a few poems into song. If you weren’t at Wednesday night’s performance and you haven’t had a chance to hear his work, click his name and check him out!
I’ve posted a video with some of my work from the performance as well.  Feel free to take a look. Subscribe, tweet, comment!  Blessings all! I hope to do more readings in the future.  I’ll keep you informed!






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Fear of Flying #3/30 NaPoWriMo

Fear of flying 

by Ieisha McIntyre

I climbed to the highest mountain
and stretched out my arms as wings.
Bade the lord to lift me up by the power of his hand.  And with an effortless wave of his finger my feet left the cliffside and I was buoyant.
I drifted as the lightest of flying creatures.
 As the lightest of creatures.

All of this,
I did, inspired by my love for you.
The power of our union made me believe in unassisted human flight.  Lips were not lips,  fingers were not fingers, skin was not a barrier but a joining place. A place of surrender-co-mingle.
 All of my family voiced caution but I was unafraid
and had full faith in the power of God’s hand in our union.

I did not know that faith is made victim,
 God is made bystander,
And free will makes victims of us all.
The terror of love is in the losing,
in the ever present feeling of falling
and failing.
 
Love requires the courage of a daredevil to rest safely in the breast of a saint.
The voice of love works within our fragile minds.
We are made disciples.  
Convinced of our immortality,
we fly,
and give no consideration to gravity.
We lose all doubt of love’s existence.

In the making of love
it is made real as blush red,
hot sweaty and sweet tender.
What need had we of parachutes?
Lovers defy gravity and history every day.

No one hears the tales of the fallen,
the ones who fly too high, or reach too far.
Their stories are consumed by the heat of the sun.
All trace of them left as ashes on the wind.
All memory, left to drift with the gentlest of breezes.

The fear of flying left unexplained.        

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NaPoWriMo 30/30: #2/30

Here is my second poem in this great writing adventure that it is called NaPoWriMo. It is based on the #2 writing prompt on ReadWritePoem take time to check them out.  Many of you I do not know. And it fills my heart with joy that you are reading my work. I'd like to take this moment to invite you to say hello.  Ask me questions, and if you have advice I may not take it but I'm willing to listen. I hope you like it! Blessings.


NaPoWriMo #2: RWP Writing prompt for 30/30

Regular White Paper

by Ieisha McIntyre

Regular white paper says nothing on its own--
on its own it is only fiber and glue.

There are no contracts, promises, messages or vows without ink.

Without the rhythmic wave of process--
                                    the pen in hand
                                    and the cursive script,
                                    the paper would have nothing to say.

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Cat Bird NaPoWriMo #1

Having accepted the challenge of NaPoWriMo, I present to you my first poem.

Cat Bird

by Ieisha McIntyre

Cheshire cat grin behind steel teeth,
 and she is all that he can think about.
She is all curves and muscle.
Too many years behind her to be a girl
and to many days of sin to be spinster,
he is lost to her sex and sensual.

Smiling at her as a boy
who believes he’s the first to see a stone skip across water,
he is her captive
and doesn’t even know it.
All he knows is the grin and
the slow hard feeling in his crotch.

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Rain

Rain

By Ieisha McIntyre

Rain--
the soft sound of my lover’s voice.
It falls gently to my skin,
seeps into my body and drums against my beating heart--
his intentions.
All love and never harm, never malice,
nor contempt--
only nurture and breath.

Like rain, my love clears the dust,
and shoos away the drought of neglect.
He is my fresh homecoming.
My ambassador of spring.
With him, the soil of my spirit is made ready,
and receives without complaint or resistance.

Darling,
buds peak forth and test the light.
This sun, he brings after the tempest.
This scorch-less sun -- food. Fresh, green leaves stretch to blue-kissed light.
Fare well in these gentle winds of new cast love -- these are surely the most sweet of times.

Trust,
that when disturbance enters this garden,
and the light has grown stark-jaundice,
the rain is never far.
Grey flannel clouds will gather.
Pull close about and shelter.
Bring the welcome tender strum of his rain.

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Thank You!

I'd like to take a moment and extend a thanks to all of you who followed my Valentine's Day Challenge and even participated with me. I hope I encouraged you to write about a topic that you haven't had a lot of comfort with.  Feel free to share your experiences.  If you check out the about me section of my blog you'll find contact information for this blog as well.



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National Poetry Month is COMING!

NATIONAL POETRY MONTH is coming in April.  April 1st to be exact.  What idea or theme has been burning a hole in your self-conscious this year that you would really like to get off your chest?  Take some time in that last few weeks of this month to contemplate them.

For myself, I've been thinking about weight and body image quite a bit since January.  I've tried hard not to  lose perspective of my goals.  When I've lost focus, I haven't given up, I've just gotten right back up on the horse.  Conveniently, in April, we have the opportunity to write a poem a day for 30 days and try to get all these concerns off our chests and on to the paper.  Oh yeah, and READ,WRITE,POEM will provide writing prompts for each day, just in case you need an extra push or a new perspective.



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A Moment

A moment
by Ieisha McIntyre


Give me a moment of sexy
and a dash of forever.
Hold me in the hands of your memory,
hesitate to release control
lay your heart
bare.

I understand your fear,
how much loss
can eat away at hope.

Give me a sprinkle of maybe.
We can season our lives with
more than salt.



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Bellocq's Ophelia

Hello Everyone! I thought I would lend a change of pace to this blog by including some of what I’m reading.  I just finished reading an amazing little collection of poetry called Bellocq’s Ophelia by Natasha Tretheway (She also won 2007 Pulitzer for Poetry for Native Guard) a winner of the 1999 Cave Canem Poetry Prize and published by Greywolf Press

. Bellocq’s Ophelia is a journey into the rarely discussed world of the “Colored” brothels of New Orleans.  The exotic nature given to the ivory skinned African women by white culture combined with the conflict of being trapped between two worlds is explored to surprising depth in these brief pages.  You do not leave this slim volume of poetry without wanting to know more about the world describe in its pages.  It is truly titillating.  You want to know more about the lives of these women, you want to know about the lives of the men who visit them.  You want to know more about the world that would keep them in a state where they are enslaved, not by their skin tone but by the skin tone of their grandmothers. I was left wondering about how many ways in today’s world, African-American women are still forced to make choices based on the perceptions of others instead of the strength of their spirit and the power of their intellect. 

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I Forget

 Valentine's Day poem #14 is up.  I was a few minutes late but Nina Simone songs deserve to be listened too closely.  This one is inspired by her song "For a while." Blessings Lovers!

I forget

By Ieisha McIntyre

Just for this moment love –

Kiss my hand and take me for a drive around town,

With the windows rolled down,

In the dead of winter.  Let’s do something that defies all sense.

Just for a little while,

Let us be the last human beings on earth.

Kiss me in the street, pull up flowers by the root,

Kill off all other traps of human life, and remember only

Me.

Look at me first my love. 

Look at me first when you think of your tomorrow, make me

The central player.

Pull yourself away from the influence of friends and privilege. Choose me,

I will forget your avoidance. 

I will forget and go on

Not one hour has passed in my day.

I live only for your love.

For all that guides me in this world is my love for you.

I forget—

You are gone.

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Just Friends

The following poem was inspired by Nina Simone's version of "Every Time We Say Goodbye."

Just Friends

By Ieisha McIntyre

Standing free of your touch,

my lips remember you.

Every time.

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The Prairie

 Valentine's Day Challenge poem #12.  I'm having an ekphrastic day! This one was inspired by listening to Lucia Micarelli . (Click this link to hear the exact song that inspired this poem!)  

The Prairie

By Ieisha McIntyre

The prairie, outstretched and vast in its greenness. 

You are farther away than ever the years or distance could make.

Close held in memory is the strength of your arms,

The heft of your weight against thighs.

Your breath against my neck—

Only the touch of the breeze as it contorts itself through the pillars of the house.

My feet pad gently against the course wood grain of the weatherworn porch. 

Lured toward the light of the setting sun—

I can hear your voice travel through the brush,

Just above the hum of the fireflies as the sunsets.

You rush upon the warm summer wind, graze the hem of my dress, slide finger light

Up the crease of my thighs,

And the curve of my waist,

To the cleft of my breast.

Defenseless, I breathe in the warmth that was you.

And for one moment,

We are shining light of love and harmony. 

We are partner friendship, forever.

But the gathering of night comes to our day,

And the cold creeps into the breeze—

Pounds out the rhythm of ending that all living things hear and deny.

Bare feet to the dusky ground,

I start my evening search for the clothe blown free of the line,

Call the cat,

Draw the water and wash the porch free of the dust of the day,

Lend coolness to the night’s thoughts.

Speak softly, gently the words that came from your lips.

Look my love—

All the plain is amber and orange.

Red.

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Valentine's Day Challenge

I know I'm behind in my Valentine's Day challenge that I set for myself.  I was at a loss for inspiration, and you know how that can be.  So I went on writing other things.  But here I am back again and only 3 poems behind.  So my goal for today is to write three more before midnight. I hope they will improve in tone.  If they don't, oh well!  I hope you can get something out of them.  Please feel free to comment! I've included a link to  The Handbook of Heartbreak: 101 Poems of Lost Love and Sorrow so that you can take a peak of some of the masters of lost love poetry.  See if you can roll with the big boys!

Python Heart

By Ieisha McIntyre

My love, can you adore me?

Even though my heart is enraged

And in full flame

And lost to concealment?

Beloved.

Can you love me? Can you take all of my acerbic charms?

Can you stand faithful even when I cannot stand you?

Even though in full two year old tantrum—

I insist you stay

While shouting NO. 

Will you tolerate my lost nature and directionless heart?

My childish mistrust of anything

That doesn’t look like mommy’s hand?

I promise. I’ll pay you back.

I’ll pay you back—

For every scar I place on your heart and your soul.

I’ll pay you back in kisses and caress,

I’ll give you every beautiful moment I can muster

From the turmoil of my warring heart.

I’ll let you become addict to narcotic me. 

I promise you won’t feel pushed upon. 

Not until you are fully hooked upon

Me and all my poison.

I promise, you are my antidote. 

I will help you be more than prince,

More that savior.

I will let you be more than methadone.

I will let you be cure.

If you can love me.

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A Day at Frye Art Museum

  If you live in the Seattle area or you think you might be in town soon, you should make sure to make time to visit The Frye Art Museum.  Not only did I have a very enlightening workshop in ekphrasis facilitated by Susan Rich and another wonderful woman named Lilias (I unfortunately can’t locate her last name)but I also had a chance to become better acquainted with art in Seattle.  If you’re a poet or someone who loves books/poetry/art and are also a teacher, check out the Tim Rollins and K.O.S.: A History exhibit.  It will inspire and excite you when you see what art and education can do.

Just in case you are knew to the term Ekphrasis, Susan gave us the following wonderful definition:

Ekphrastic poetry is a written response to a visual painting, photograph, dance, sculpture, Ikea catalogue, Childs drawing, or bumper sticker.  An ekphrastic poem begins with inspiration from another piece of art with the understanding that art begets art.

--Susan Rich

I wrote a little poem that was inspired by the painting The Bride, by Marc Chagall, 1953.  Anyway, here’s the poem feel free to read and comment.  Blessings!

Child Bride

by Ieisha McIntyre

Papa said it would be simple

And momma said it would be quick

The first night with my old husband

That I did not pick. 

He chose me.

It was an honor that could not be refused.

My sisters gathered white flowers, washed them with their tears.

My aunts dressed me in red, with a white veil.

I thought only of my nanny goat and how well I kept her fed.

She never gave me worries or wandered from the yard.

Even when the gate was open, she had no need for exploration.

It would be too forward. 

Her milk never failed.

When she saw me come her way, her bleat was more a melody – so much so, that on that day, when the village musicians did play

–        my nanny goat from the dowry cart

Did express her heart and sang along.

Simple and quick.

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Why We Date

WHY WE DATE

BY Ieisha McIntyre

We date for the same reason we play the lottery.

We hope against hope,

Hand over our sweaty wads of change,

And force ourselves to believe that we are the one in forty.

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Love Salutations

Love Salutations

By Ieisha McIntyre

All my heart is hello for you.

Gentle,

Strong,

Tender.

Hello.

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*This poem is #9 in a series of Valentine's Day love poems.  Please feel free to scroll down and read the others posted during this month.  Don't for get to click and make your free donation to THE WORLD FOOD PROGRAMME for international school lunches.


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