I am elated to welcome another esteemed author, Renee Cronin, to the Lez Talk Books Blog Tour! She is a wonderful writer I met on Twitter. After reading her interview, please check her work out on Amazon. I look forward to settling down to read her novel, Tastes Like Cherries.
Have a beautiful week!
arrived Facebook wrapped, from her to me and a commonwealth
of other poets. I was on hiatus from the virtual and
much of my usual offline affairs. Months stretched out
between us like concourse lines guiding our roads to an
inevitable reunion. She is a pretty poster child for the
art of poetry and prose, self taught and charming, if you
are not on her No Fucks Given list. You are invited to
join me and a community of other poets. April is our month.
NaPoWriMo became more than a peculiar-looking tongue tickler.
I accepted her challenge, went with the flow. Devoured the
interesting comments her invite engendered. I especially loved
the poets who informed our walls that they didn’t and wouldn’t
and some couldn’t write on call (more or less). Inspiration their key,
I gather. Her invite left me grateful for her reconnect, made
me challenge me. Could I pen poetry off the cuff of my pen on
command? Daily? Like Suzan-Lori parking herself to write a play a day
for one year? Oh dear! What was one month? The call to action set me
in motion. I had to adhere. And in the daily creation, I’ve learned
once more that whatever I set my mind to…I do; that no matter how
long I work, there is energy left to create; that I am a wellspring of
writing fodder as long as I inhale and exhale; that creativity
is a bottomless pit; that whatever I believe becomes deed. A
cook cooks, unafraid. A dancer dances when the body obeys the
rhythm. And a wordsmith culls her masterpiece with words, a
cauldron of possibilities, regardless to when the pot is lit.
When I’m in place, my mind, fingers and spirit know the routine.
Thank you, Nik, the lover of Paper Mate colorful InkJoy pens.
You, as Tupac sang, are appreciated.
(c) Claudia Moss 4/19/2015
Life is much
writing a poem.
You wake in
a new day
its path uncharted
you cross pontoon
from one side
of the day
is a path
from its first
can never know
the creative force,
but we can
is a lamp
to our feet
Then we write
at the Unseen’s
(c) Claudia Moss 4/18/2015
I think I want to play with you, sit on these steps and pose for you, stick around as long as I can
to stay with you. I might spend the entire day blowing bubbles and kisses to amuse you. I could wear this fedora 1,000 ways for you.
Bet you didn’t know I’m a pro at reading novels and essays? In these April rays, I can allay your worries under the music of my words, making poetry sway and sashay. Hey, I’ll build a stage on the lawn and wave the gnats away, while simultaneously reciting Nikki, Maya and Alice. What? You haven’t heard what they say? Woman, I can write midnight love poems in your flesh more memorable than all the rest.
Playing with me, you’re sure to be hungry. Good thing, ’cause it’s okay. I’m a huntress in the kitchen, slaying any dish you desire is my wish. Jill ain’t got nothing on me. Baby, for you, I’d prepare the sweetest parfait, leave my love in the souffle, stir devotion in the sorbet and saute anything your palate conjures. Once your hunger’s sated, I’ll puree roses and massage their aroma into your skin, you relaxed and splayed across my sleigh bed. My sweet, don’t you know how deep my love goes?
Play with me. We can shine bright like Rihanna’s diamonds in the sky. Perhaps they’ll ready you for the diamond between my thighs.
Baby Love, never fear. There’s no betrayal here. On your window sill, I’ll sing sweeter than a blue jay flown in from Bombay. Let’s run the beach and splash in Sri Lankan waves. Ever been served by a lady valet? I’ll wrap your fav colors in a vibrant bouquet in green cellophane. When soft shadows fall, I’m going to dance a sultry ballet in garb lighter than x-rays just to turn you up.
I never come halfway, boi. And don’t even think passe. I’m risque, more fragrant than the last Hawaiian lei you made me. No grey day with me, babe. Can’t be cliche. Hey, what I am is an array of your deepest desires. Your call girl, life hired. Your Gay Cafe serving eye candy and ordering up sexy soirees.
Mmmm hmmm, I wanna be your play list of love songs, from Trey to Chris to Kanye. Yea. We’ll play so hard Little Miss Muffet might go missing. No dissing, but if she does, I’ll write myself onto her tuffet. After all, my curds and whey are guaranteed to make you mine. No spiders bad enough to drift down beside this lady.
So, c’mon, gorgeous. Let’s play.
(c) Claudia Moss 4/17/2015
like I’ll never have to ask
like our energy will ever be on perennial blast
like two women kissing should be a beautiful billboard broadcast
Fall into the passion of this
For unconditionally, I give you my
And so you know, yes, I’ll always want you
breast to breast
heart to heart
now to forever
(c) Claudia Moss 4/16/2015
I plunge out of sorts
forget falling out of time
back against the wind
I plummet, Zephyr-lashed eardrums
emotions wound in knots
undone over crap
in somebody else’s dream
It doesn’t even seem believable now
once the scenes in my Present shift
It’s never personal I remind myself, no matter
what she does
what they think
what she says
Everything springs from what others believe within themselves
where I don’t actually care to be
I’ve got my hands full owning my own peace and revelry
love and light
So tell me why am I’m puffing like a chimney?
I reign myself back to that expansive, still core
breath surfing and receding
guiding me to the day’s places where my
cart hit glitches
allowing me to face truth and those indomitable
that Judge in my head spews suggestively
thinking I’ll die to my peace of mind
not for long
I go motionless, direct my mind to take that inevitable backseat
so I can regulate me
from the inside out
the path of true serenity
I don’t begrudge the overturned
the practice blessed to self-adjust, to self-tweak
bring myself back from the brink
The insanity of taking things personally
and opting beyond my best
creating emotional unrest and anarchy
A string of quiet riots cordoned off
inside me, the lady in blue
I love me much too much to not honor
my righteous state of tranquility
even though Sometimes happens
Tis true it can never last
only stopping in to make me laugh
observe what angers me
and walk another path to
(c) Claudia Moss 4/15/2015
doesn’t make it so.
Cowards call, too.
Baby, texting has its use.
wanna hear railroad
abuse. You running
misuse of my time.
Your voice doesn’t
malign my ears
inveigling my good sense
with yo’ nonsense. So
if you can’t
work with my
then text me. I
got you up under
(c) Claudia Moss 4/14/2015