Confession is good for the soul, or so they say. I find it quite liberating, though the thought of confessing my sins as a child was often quite disconcerting. (Really, at ten or twelve, what did I have to confess beyond disobedience to my parents and the admission of a using a few well-chosen curse words?!)
I thought it might be fun to write poems of confession. These are NOT poems of apology, but real confessions. Perhaps you might want to confess to a crime you didn’t commit, or an obsession you have. This one is wide open for some creative ideas, so have some fun. When you're finished, leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results here later this week.
I thought it might be fun to write poems of confession. These are NOT poems of apology, but real confessions. Perhaps you might want to confess to a crime you didn’t commit, or an obsession you have. This one is wide open for some creative ideas, so have some fun. When you're finished, leave me a note about your poem and I'll post the results here later this week.
Love it! I am inspired!
ReplyDeleteChocolate Love
ReplyDeleteI want chocolate, dark as kohl,
Lining my eyes,
Slathered between my legs,
Decorating my nipples.
I could eat it for every meal,
Rub it into my arm pits,
Crush it between my molars,
Suck it through a straw.
I dream of chocolate each night,
Running down my chin,
Hot and cold,
In a cup, in a cone.
My tongue gives it a deep kiss
And I am lost in its sweet tartness.
Can you tell I am on a diet?
c 2009 Jane Yolen
While you were at your father’s in July
ReplyDeleteWeek four of your absence, night twenty-six,
Counting creaks, snores, days ‘til your return,
I lead myself to your undisturbed bed, glass lake
Of your glowing room
I fold back your summer quilt, slip in,
These sheets are fine, on your ceiling
Lines and lines of pale streetlight stretch
Like a canopy, I close my eyes
Your pillow does its job and a large pink dog
Flies me to the slanted house of your friend
Stella (I’ve always thought she was imaginary),
Who asks how long you’re gone
When I awake some time later I am ten,
But then your cat appears,
Trills at my presence, slinks near,
Wet-noses my cheek, settles, purrs
I sing his name, stroke his long back the way
I’ve seen you do, shoulders to tail,
Shoulders to tail, and for a moment,
We both pretend
I am you