Skip to main content

la vie poeme redux

Back in October, I blogged the news that a few poems I penned were accepted for submission to the University of Louisville's literary magazine, The White Squirrel.

Recently, I received word that two of my entries for this year were selected as well. To my knowledge, there will not be an electronic version this time around. However, the print copies are available today.

(I'm grinning just a little.)

Here they are, for your edification:


hope

smeared ink, the pages are crying,
and i know what you are
trying to say.
arranged, the letters spell out the
simple truth: all lies.
lavish language flows like a
river of tears,
and in far corners of my weary mind
i see your form,
huddled over an ink stained book,
salty water escaping from your silent eyes.




the artists

we stir it up and
then it
mixes, it
hardens, it
gels.
sidewalk/ cement/
very definite in shape:
sized.
and then they
pick at it.
they
chizzle away,
before we can get our hands on
the paint thinner/
the white out/ the
sledgehammer
that would censor
our concrete selves.

Comments

Tina Lynn said…
*turns green* Jealous. I suck at poetry.
Jm Diaz said…
These were quite beautiful. You should be more than just grinning...not for the publications (though thats nice) but for the wonderful thing you created.
Anonymous said…
I like these, though I must confess I know nothing about poetry, especially any written after the 17th century.
To my three bloggy besties: many, many thanks.
Sierra Godfrey said…
Congrats Amber! This is really wonderful!
Thanks for the compliment, Sierra!

Popular posts from this blog

fetal friday?

I know that I left everyone hanging yesterday. You know, when I went to pee on that stick. (That was mean of me. Not the peeing, but the leaving hanging.) Well, I think the big reveal is best expressed in letter form. Deep breath. Here goes. dear unborn baby daughter son or daughter, I take it back. I take back everything I said about not wanting kids. I was just scaredspice, and the slightest bit selfish, and maybe I had a giant fear of commitment. But, three positive test results in the last eighteen hours seem to say that you actually are in there, getting all comfy. I guess you'll probably be here in mid-December. I never thought about having a Christmas baby. (You've really put a wrench in my whole taking-maternity-leave-during-the-NCAA-tournament plan, but that's okay. At least it's basketball season. Don't tell Daddy yet, but you are going to cheer for the Indiana Hoosiers.) Speaking of Daddy, I take back all the mean things I've ever sa...

in which i have a birthday and a giveaway

The blogger as a child. p.s. it's my birthday. And people at Starbucks like me. (I did get this for free, but it was not for the benefit of my blog.)  (Obvi, it was a gift .) There's a cupcake in that box! There's a hazelnut latte in that cup! In other news, I'm having a 100 Followers/ It's my birthday giveaway. You should enter. I'm giving away the following goodies: 1. A $25.00 VISA giftcard. 2. An original poem, which will be hadwritten and autographed on pretty paper. It might be about love, about being a writer, or maybe the winner will be able to choose the topic. We shall see. This giveaway is a bit seatofthepantsspice. 3. A frame from my wedding day. In fact, this very frame: 4. A mystery. The fourth goodie will be a surprise until you open the package! 5. The whopper: I will dedicate a karaoke song to you, personally, and put it on my blog, vlogger style. If you want to enter this smashing contest: leave a comment. 1 entry if you follow and comme...

love at first sight blogfest, or, go eat a heart-shaped cookie

Courtney Reese is hosting a love at first sight blogfest, in which writer's write about the icky love stuff. Check it out -- there are already a ton of entries over there. Okay, so my scene isn't really love at first sight for my mc, Laurel (in fact, she doesn't even want it to be) but this is the first time she interacts with her second love interest, David.  Read! Enjoy! Critique!      A sea of southerners filled the lobby of the movie theater. David Winter stood at a neon orange podium in the center of the throng, his head throbbing. He tore off one ticket stub after another, pointed the masses in the appropriate direction. The work was monotonous. Most of the patrons were lost in conversations with one another, and they paid David the same lack of attention that he showed them. He tried not to grimace at the giggling teenage girls, the smug looking guys in gold chains, the overweight middle aged couples: all annoyed him equa...