Another Friday, another Story Time…Friday.
Today’s post is one I’ve been anxiously waiting to get out to everyone. Today’s poet is Brittany Rose. You might recall her name from when back in December when I talked about Down Valley Voices, our local “poetry community”. She’s another East Coast poet, transplanted into Western Colorado. She moved out here almost at the same time I did.
The similarities end there. Her poetry is much more betterer than mine. Ok, maybe that’s not true. We write with such different styles that it can’t be compared, but it’s that difference that’s inspiring and helpful to this little group of writers we’re building. Diversity in style gets us out of our comfort zones. Who knows, maybe it’ll lead to a collaboration in the future. See what our styles can do together.
Enough about me teasing about possible ideas floating around in the air. I really want to get Brittany’s name out to my readers because I know many of you are going to enjoy her work. In today’s post you’ll find three poems. You’ll also notice that the first one, Pushing Paper, has an accompanying video. This was recorded during one of the first open mic nights we did here in Colorado at Olive Ridley’s (the local coffee shop that you need to check out if you’re ever in Rifle. It’s great. They have coffee…and beer. Need I saw more?) I’ve included this video because with Brittany’s work, hearing it adds so much to it that paper can’t capture. It kicked an already great poem up a notch more.
So, please check out the text. Check out the video (and the rest on that channel). Then maybe you’ll head over to her site to read even more work. Then, if you’re still craving more, I’m trying to persuade Ms. Rose to come back in the coming weeks for another Poetry Month post. If you want to see her more often, let her know in the comments!
I want you to read it.
No. Really read it.
And tell me what you think.
I want you to think about it.
No. Really think about it.
And tell me how you feel.
I want you to feel it.
No. Really feel it –
and tell me what it needs.
I need you to go there.
No. Really go there.
And tell me if you care.
I know I’d care, care if you got it.
Maybe, really got it.
Then, teach me how to mind read?
Because I wouldn’t mind,
mind if you read into it.
Yes, really read into it.
As long as it meant something
in the end.
Indulge the Virgin Synapses
I don’t appreciate your suspicious superstitions
No – not against my belief systems
The wise ask questions
But you’re yelling demands
And I’m not suppose to listen
I’m suppose to follow on command
I think it’s time we take the protests off the streets
Incorporate them into our LIVES
Into sets of steady beats
“Stand up for what you believe in”
Does not just mean participate
Does not just mean stand there
Standing, to me, is a waste of time
That’s why I’m running
Running in my mind,
My body and soul – Moving
Pruning the brain
Re-wiring synapses so there is efficiency
In what I do and what I think
So there is synchronicity
Like two lovers in bed
Each curve complimented with something concave
Like, when he rests his whole body against my back
When his knees tuck behind mine
So let’s synchronize, like lovers
To our beliefs, our goals
Our hopes and our dreams
Let’s bring peaceful protesting
To peaceful lives
& for a glimpse into History
I can find us walking
Side by Side, intertwined
A Delicate Story
Babes born with roses in their eye sockets
Blooming buds sprouting from their eye sockets
Pretty porcelain faces
Babies born in crystal castles
Surrounded by a rushing mote
Porcelain drawbridges keep them safe
Alligators with ruby eyes keep them sound
Scales of Amber caramelize mosquitoes
Everything now is thawing
This is Attraction. This is Danger
Like tiny babies born & bursting
Their eye sockets filled with love that
Their baby eye sockets can barely hold
About the Author:
As an individual I seek self-awareness and a peaceful mind.
(Influences include the enlightened ones who have left knowledge and tools for our interpretations)
As a writer I like to explore the nature of those who have nurtured me, in turn exploring the nature of myself.
(Influences include my family and every other human I have come in persuadable contact with)
As a visual artist I unleash colorful expressions of abstract thinking.
(Influences include Salvador Dali and local graffiti artists)
As a member in society I believe in leading by example; as both a lover and a fighter.
(In the words of M.I.A “I really love a lot, but I fight the ones that fight me”)
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