Original Poem: New Dress

New Dress

Rachel Marie Talan

Tissues--

fallen soldiers of love

have surrendered,

their bodies scattered over the floor,

a trail from the bed 

to the bathroom vanity.

Ben and Jerry,

beneath the bedside lamp,

are arguing who

has dibs on the silver lady,

lying at the nightstand’s edge.

The bed’s pillows are 

wrinkled and angry

and the TV has

been on for days, 

mourning the ends of

shows stuck in reruns,

characters never aging.

The walk-in closet

glows yellow

--a bulb about to burn out--

and hangers

are tangled bitterly

over the mouth of a

hungry hamper.

Then the front door clicks.

Footsteps up the stairs.

A box on the bed.

The TV off.

Purse slung

into a chair.

Zzzzzipp.

A look in the mirror

with a sudden smile says:

Nothing heals

a fractured heart

like the touch of

a new dress.

Silent, I Would Walk Barefoot Through the Forest Like a Native

Despite my feet always being ice cubes, I am happiest barefoot and free. While hiking, I often pretend I'm a Native American, sneaking around barefoot without rustling any of the leaves. But Josh makes me leave my shoes on because he insists that parasites, fungus or the black plague will soak up through the soles of my feet. And I listen to him because I know that even if those things didn't happen to me, I'd probably just stab my fragile feet with twigs or something because I'm not always the most graceful ballerina in the company. 

But shoes aren't so bad I suppose. And these are my favorites. Since purchasing them in January from The Paraders, I scarcely go a day without them...

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Original Poem: The Kuleshov Effect

Recently, Josh did a stop motion video of me writing out one of my poems called "The Kuleshov Effect." Stop motion is done by taking consecutive photos and then playing them back at 24 frames/sec. It gives the film a choppy look, and with the antique effect Josh used, this really looks like an antique film (well, except for the two cars in my driveway). I hope you love it as much as I do!

 

The Kuleshov Effect

Rachel Marie Talan

Shelved books gather dust like old,

forgotten trophies. Sunlight streams through 

the open window,

a spotlight.

Cut.

The author spins phrases on his typewriter

while the sun strikes his back with 

warmth, with pain. 

Cut.

There’s a dandelion on the lawn. A 

lone survivor. All his friends, killed on

behalf of beauty’s war. 

Cut.

She sits at the bar and takes her

first drink in fifteen years.

Cut.

A penny is stranded, tail-side-up, in the gutter.

Cut.

A cigar still burns in an ashtray,

smoke dancing up and away from its

abandoned form.

Cut. 

The metronome ticks atop the musicless piano. 

Cut.

"It would protect me on the cold walk into the village for milk"

This lovely 1950s trench coat has been so trusty and warm and perfect. However, as much as I adore it, I am ready to retire it for the season. I'm also ready to retire my textbooks (at least for a time). I'm ready to instead pick up my high waisted shorts, sandals, and my leather bound journal. How I miss writing and reading for my own pleasure. I'm ready for summer's freedom and adventures.

There are so many things I want to learn that I cannot find time for while I am still in school --- ironic isn't it? I made a list of resolutions when the New Year came about, but I feel like I need to make another one for summer.

And so...some hopeful summer plans:

x learn to really sew with my new sewing machine
x learn to skillfully operate the animation software I purchased for Meep and Merp
x translate my favorite French poems
x take a yoga class
x buy a bike

And knowing me, there will be many more. I'm too ambitious for my own good.

Do you have any premature summer plans like I do?



Details:

This outfit was worn awhile ago. But some of these images didn't appear in the original post. And I am still wearing this trench coat every bitter cold April day.

This post title is a quote from Billy Collins' poem "The Lesson."

Featured Poet: Gina Alyse

Potpourri

by Gina Apperson

To someone else

Dried flowers may seem better

Than a collection of random

Literary extracts.

An extract of honey perfume

May smell more welcoming

Than the crisp paper pages

My fingers hold.

A diamond ring that flashes

With every change of light

May bedazzle more brilliantly

Than the next metaphor listed.

In fact the next hidden meaning

Of this delicate language

May just go unnoticed

As clouds spiral day by day,

Making curtains in the air.

Such curtain, only of lies,

Would then feel softer

Than the quiet melody

Of missing voices

In the beryl skies.

And the sweet music that vibrates

Daily instead

Would sound better

Than the flawless flow

Of words voiced with strong soul

To someone else.

But never am I

This someone else.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Featured Poet: Gina Alyse is a delight. She keeps an eclectic blog where she catalogues her interests and daily musings, and she was kind enough to feature some of my work.  "Potpourri" has such a calm rhythm to it. I especially love the lines "as clouds spiral day by day, making curtains in the air." Such a lovely image. 

For Reasons, Most Wondrous

"To the garden, the world, anew ascending,
Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding,
The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being,
Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber;

"The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, have brought me again,	5
Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all wondrous; My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for reasons, most wondrous;

"Existing, I peer and penetrate still,
Content with the present—content with the past,

"By my side, or back of me, Eve following,	10
Or in front, and I following her just the same." ---- "To the Garden of the World" by Walt Whitman

Outfit Details:

Photos taken by Josh.

Glasses//RayBan
Earrings//Vintage, 1950s
Ring//Antique
Cardigan//Charlotte Russe
Dress (worn as blouse)//Vintage, 1980s
Skirt//Vintage, 1960s - via Vintage Archives
Shoes//Vintage 1960s
Handbag//Vintage 1950s