Poetry and Imagination with Laurie Filipelli 2019
In one short week, this small tribe of fearless poets explored personal identity, studied objects intensely, wrote haiku and travelogues, and delved into the dreamy waters of surrealism. Best of all, we collaborated and generously shared our poems with whomever was lucky enough to cross our path. We all finished the week feeling smarter, more connected, and eager to write more. Forever we will be the Poetic 6, spreading joy with just a hint of dark mystery! - Laurie Filipelli
–––
Harini Senthil Arasu
Haiku
A grey stone in the shadows
Looks very much like a gravestone
Maybe it is a grey gravestone.
In the distance is a Moonlight Tower
Not what I expected at all at all
Tall is the tower, but not like the moon.
The sun is very, very hot today
But nobody can predict the sun
It is Texas and nobody can predict it.
The Moonlight Tower is a tower of death
People have died climbing it
Maybe they planted the pomegranate
tree in memory of them.
Poem
Down on 13th street
There is a murder house
Who knows who died in there?
Life does frighten me very much
Is there a robber or a rubber in there?
This does not frighten me at all...
Who has committed the murder
Not you nor I
Wait, maybe it could be you.
Two poems after Federico García Lorca
I Have Lost My Sight
Oh no! Oh no! I have lost my sight
It is now in a cave
How did you lose your sight?
An evil king stole it from me
Why did the king steal if from you?
Because the king wants four eyes
Why does the king want four eyes?
Because fireflies surround the cave
and that’s why. And no more questions.
“I have still lost my sight,” I moaned.
I Have Lost My Taste
I cannot taste
I tried and tried but I just can’t taste
I ate a sandwich
I still cannot taste
I have eaten a lemon
I still cannot taste anything
“Where has my taste gone?”
Just then someone came along
“Do you know where my taste is?” I asked
“Oh, yes, just eat another lemon,” she said.
I ate another lemon.
My taste is back!!!!
–––
Venusta Benét
What Kind of a Person
after Yehuda Amichai
“What kind of a person are you?” you ask.
I’m like an enormous banyan tree, old and
filled with knowledge.
Its roots drooping to the floor
Its intellect spreading across my soul.
I’m an eagle nesting on
the branches of the silent orator. I’m not brave
but rather nervous and shy. I take off,
the rustle of my wings reminding me of old pages.
I glide over to a mountain,
tall and empowering. Here
I am closer to the sun.
I bathe in the light.
The sun is coming to her end.
I slowly take flight. I am
Nothing here, so I will trade
my life in exchange for the sweet sun’s.
The Poetic 6
A girl who’d rather be a bowl than a spoon
A tower that looks nothing like the moon
A sweet woman name Debora
A red square nebula
A Dorito flying up high
A teacher whose knowledge
could reach the sky
A microscope that displays things readily
The pomegranate tree that’s deadly
Six amazing poets,
here are their names:
Ella L.
Harini S.A.
Josie K.
Laurie F.
Mina T.
and me
As our pens danced
across our papers, we
soon became friends
But as our time slipped
away, we learned that
all good things come to
an end.
–––
Jozie Kramer
Perspective
Nebulas bask in solitude
Only exploration from afar
No souls should ever come close
To my expanse of greatness
One star dies
In a cloud of ever-widening ash
And is replenished
By millions
We are all so hollow
Longing…
Always craving something
From far away
We look so full of beauty
A lake of shimmering stardust
In reality
We sit in an excruciating
Lonesome
Abyss
Showered by enormous tealights
Untitled
A pacifier
in a crib
a batman lamp
a princess tale
a cat
licking itself
on a bed
a toothbrush container
corroded in toothpaste
a remote control car
lying lopsided
on the floor
a set of headphones
plugged into a phone
a picture
of him and his friends
at a skatepark
a scholarship to Stanford
an empty room
with no soul
anymore
Untitled
On 13th Street
the death house sat
In the refuge of old rusted signs
that all children obey
Perseverance
after Maya Angelou
We ride
Along the choppy seas
Of life’s journey
The tsunamis of emotion
That envelope you
And still we ride
On that frail raft
Without protection
From the wild sea
But still
We ride
–––
Ella Lickwar
Haiku
Tall sprays of foam
Churning, teasing us
Laughing as it gurgles
Tall and metal
We stare up at its dormant lights
Beside the pomegranate tree
Towering above us
So close, yet so far
Our destination
A poster on a pole
Found dog, brown and panting
Oh joy, the happiness of finding
Blank
Blank
A white piece of paper
A poet’s pen
Waiting…
waiting…
Auuuugghhh!
“Come to life,
stupid paper!”
Oh
sorry
I didn’t mean it that way!
NOOOOOOO
CHOMP!
Cavorting About
Oh, where are the kitties?
Oh, where have they gone?
Miss, they’re cavorting about,
please don’t shout!
Cavorting, cavorting about!
Oh, where is my bunny?
Oh, where has he gone?
Is he prancing on the lawn?
Miss, it’s okay, it’s only May;
he’s out, cavorting about!
Oh, where is my snake?
Oh, where has he gone?
Is she eating (er...greeting) her friends?
Miss, don’t distress, I’m trying my best
but your snake has eaten your pets!
Fetch the water, Mary,
For the mistress has fainted!
I guess that’s what you get
for letting your pets
Cavorting, cavorting about!
Ode to the House Cats
The silent
creeping
hiding
stalking
feline
street cat.
Hunting
with its Clan
by its
side
the tangle-furred Himalayan
and
the squash-face Persian
its friends
the rival cats
the food
and the
FIGHT
and the bright lights
where
has everyone
gone?
The big monster
with boxes of bars
in it
and
HUMANS!
Strange, Mean
HUMANS!
Thrown
into those boxes
and moving into
a new place
a place that is
NOT
the streets
and
the alleys
with warm, torn, cushions
for comfort
this place
smells
of ANGER
and
FEAR
shoved into a new
Much
bigger box.
Hardly better.
It sits
It waits
It hopes
Hope
into
hope-
less
n
e
s
s
and despair
and sadness
all
alone...
BUT!
WAIT!
Oh!
A HUMAN?
A strange
warm-smelling
HUMAN
Why?
how?
hide
where?
the smaller box
the only choice
the cat,
faster
than lightning
runs.
The box closes.
Trapped
the box
is lifted
up
up
Moving to
another
place
a home
FINALLY
The Persian is there
The Himalayan is there
The CLAN is there
Finally
no more fighting
no more hoping
or hopelessness
no more
Just
comfort
and
happiness
and
peace
at last.
hallelujah!
–––
Mina Talebi
A Slice of Life
A bunch of sweets, some
pillows & a desk,
those are the things
that I like best.
A box, a book, my little
brother Champ,
those are the things
I take to camp.
Potatoes, pickles, soup & macaroons,
those are things you
eat with spoons.
Pens & pencils, houses &
Trees, those are the things
that I do need.
Balls & doors, wood
& gnats, those are the
things you hit with bats
Cousins, neighbors, family,
& friends, those are things
you love till the end.
I’m Afraid of Nothing
after Maya Angelou
Cockroaches, curtains
guns & robbers.
I don’t know what I’m
afraid of.
Twelve year-old boys,
teenagers & snakes
I don’t know what I’m
afraid of.
Great heights & cages
suffocation & fear,
I don’t know what I’m
afraid of
Dragons & wounds
loud noises & mice
I don’t know what I’m—
Wait!
Did you say mice?!
Nevermind!
I know what I’m
afraid of!
Good-bye!
They Say I Cannot
They say I cannot see
but I can, I can.
I can see the wind
that will blow them
away.
They say I cannot hear
but I can, I can.
I can hear their
hearts whisper in pain.
They say I cannot feel
but I can, I can
I can feel the hurt they feel every day.
They say I can’t taste
but I can, I can.
I can taste the blood
of remorse
They say I can’t smell
but I can, I can.
I can smell the fear
they send.
They say I can’t think
but I can, I can.
I can think of their
life all crushed
with despair.
So when they tease
and when they jeer,
I take their hand & smile.
Give
Give a soldier a sword
& he’ll start a war.
Give a writer a pen
& he’ll start a story.
–––
