Like Harry Potter, the sorting hat (my mom)
has placed me in a bloody, crimson colored school.
It’s disorienting, as I go about, the logos are wack.
Poor little rich girl
no beachside lovers
this interminable, scorching summer.
I’m swept up by scholastic spirit.
Can you hear it? Cause it’s deafening me,
on this cool, dry, Boston orientation day.
As we finished our morning 8k jog,
the sunrise blossomed, painting hot lava clouds
with hues of yellow, orange and pink.
We’re traipsing unfamiliar paths,
It’s not what we’re used to, the roads are uneven
and the architecture’s all boxy and wrong.
.
.
Songs for this:
New Toy by Lene Lovich
Better After All by Jonatha Brooke
Now At Last by Feist
Form: Free verse
Written: December 15, 2023
_____________________________________________
It is undeniable that anguish prevails
It hovers close to a lilting voice
There are no strains to rejoice
Once the beat soars, its genesis tweaks.
Giving alms is obvious
Beyond the ethics of the tithing ritual
Coins jingle, evoking a sound
A decrease in the supply of food.
Newborns lack hearing and verbal ability
The elderly sage dresses chaotically
Elfin babies desire soft touch and warmth
Akin to their late mother's calming palm.
Completely lacking in decency
Deep, the ears were concealed
Whilst untamed jaws sow turmoil
It sinks as a modest, rusted nail.
The crowd heartily jeered
Tears fell over their faces relentlessly
Failure was diligently earned
Mass disgust reached high levels.
The whips roared with mirth
Frames grudgingly bore this duty
Correct ideals will be reinstated
Inept debt must be repaid in full.
Form: Free verse
Sorting skills help you find,
Gold,
Memories to hold,
Jackets to keep out the cold,
Places that are free of mould,
Money that you fold,
That makes the landlord less bold,
Documents that put moving on hold.
Maps that unfold,
Pointing to treasures a sight to behold,
Stories untold,
About family members that begin to unfold,
Leading to proof of lineage that is very old.
If you are lucky, truth be told,
And retold,
Someone to help in sorting skills to uphold,
And others to remold,
For sorting to enfold.
Form: Grook
The sorting hat knew me well.
I had a pet Basilisk and knew where they all dwell.
I speak parcel tongue, but I do not like Malfoy
I am waiting, barely breathing.
The sorting hat is making all kinds of noise, like a raid
Spitting and snorting, I close my eyes, afraid of the result
You hate Malfoy? He screams, outing me in front of the hall.
Hufflepuff? Are you kidding? That was truly a stupid call.
Come back here! The sorting hat demanded, angry now.
I ran for my life, not eager to go back to that cow.
He chases through the hall while the rest of them cheer.
I go home to mama; maybe I will come back next year.
Form: Rhyme
Writing is a way to express my feelings
It is considered a healthy way to vent
Until or unless it makes someone uncomfortable
Then you are crazy, or a troll, or a werewolf’s tongue or something
When you are too honest, things can go awry,
haywire, you can land head down, feet first.
Do it anyway
Spill your truth.
Throw it out there onto the page.
Lay it out.
It can help you find your tribe
and also show you who the name-callers are
so you can avoid them
Form: Free verse
Pirate Bart just made a good haul
Celebrated with a big brawl
Then pulled in to port
His loot for to sort
And then he made a booty call!
4-9-19
Pirate Themed Limerick Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Form: Limerick
I can understand why my pal has given
up on this garage sorting. it is only 9:30
and I feel like we've been working on this
for ten hours. I did not even get here until 8.
I am giving up right now.
Nothing could make me stay.
This is a big mess,
and I doubt I am that much help
anyway.
Oh, wait. What? Um, sure. What are you having?
Chocolate chip pancakes with blueberries
and tapioca pudding?
Yes, I guess I could stay and help
Another twenty minutes or so.
Bacon? But you'll have to un-thaw it
first? How long will that take?
Sure. I could stay an hour more maybe.
Pizza for lunch?
Okay. But I have to leave by 2:30 if that's okay.
Oh, the chiefs are playing? And we could watch it while we sort.
Form: Free verse
Drained after an aftzernoon sleep,
sweating like a failed lover.
Not sure to have heard
a voice that made me pause.
Sorting onions to dry in the sun,
shuffling the green shoots
sinews of string and dust.
My face fronted by the acrid smell
of white insides and roots.
For a moment alone. Done.
Form: Free verse
I work in fits
The contents of my head dumps out
Whatever comes out is me
Good or bad it's still just me
The contents of head dumps out
I'll leave it to you to figure it out
Good or bad it's still just me
I wish it would come out steady...but
I'll leave it to you to figure it out
Whatever comes out is me
I wish it would come out steady...but
I work in fits
Form: Pantoum
words used as a wall
hidden meaning to us all
memories I recall
poems that hold me thralled
as I read some again
from the start to the end
not written for a friend
but for love intended
I've finally sorted out
what we were all about
and I still have some doubt
that it could have all worked out
Form: Monorhyme
Bending, Grabbing, Sorting
Chinese Laundry
Chicago, 1970
In a storefront laundry
on North Clark Street
brown draperies release
this quiet man
who has my shirts.
He smiles and bows--
how carefully
he wraps them.
Before the draperies
fall back, I see,
for a moment,
in a circle swirling
almost out of sight
three kerchiefed women,
glistening black,
bending, grabbing, sorting.
Donal Mahoney
Form: Free verse