Poetry and personal blog – Spilling my guts to strangers

Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Writing Another Chapter

If you’re reading this, you may be interested to know that I started a new blog, A.D. Joyce–poetry and the butterfly psyche. I already have two posts up. Take a look and maybe even subscribe! Also, I have a new Twitter account, @ad__joyce, so follow me there, too.

From now on, I’ll blog infrequently at Sweepy Jean Explores the World, if at all, and I will soon dismantle the @sweepyjean twitter account.

So what’s the deal? Well, this blog started off as a way  to stretch my limits and get rid of inhibitions as a writer.

I very quickly found a way to write authentically. People loved the “Sweepy Jean” moniker but eventually I was able to be more open about who I am as a real person living on Earth. Sometimes, though, I found that I was writing myself into other boxes, fighting against the idea of branding, rejecting the notion that the “MFA” type of writing was the benchmark  for good poetry, and struggling with traditional concepts of how a poet is supposed to build an audience. I’ve figured out some things but not everything, and I don’t really want to get to the point where I know it all. I truly embrace my stance as a perpetual student of poetry and life.

One of the things I’ve done to try to work out the answers to these questions is  a “game” I called 1 + 1 Wednesday, a weekly post I started here and eventually created a separate blog for. I invited readers to leave two words in the comment section and I did the same. The words could be related to any random thing. I saw it as a way to look at language and meaning differently and to shake up our thought patterns.

Then I ran the Third Sunday Blog Carnival. Again, the idea was to promote free self expression among writers, expand our readership, share the collective knowledge.

“Sweepy Jean” was always the go-to blog for personal expression. But although I’m still an explorer, it’s been a while since I was Sweepy. She has long become a third person pronoun; now it’s time to completely step out of that shadow to let Adriene shine. (As most of  you know, A.D. Joyce is the name I use to sign my poetry. “A.D.” is a nickname for Adriene and Joyce is my middle name.)

Whereas in this blog I did a lot of explaining myself and public self analysis, my new blog will not contain much of that at all. The archives will remain here if you want to read personal details about me. Over at A.D. Joyce–poetry and the butterfly psyche, I’ll be transparent and self expressive in a way that will remain undefined, at least by me. But as always I hope you will find something there for you.

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2014

the buddha of questions

you are a god,

the buddha of questions

whose answers are scrambled
in your mind.

but i want you to know that

who and how are the clay of why,
where and what are beyond your reach,
and in your lap you cradle when.

when do i?

a stranger,
your only friend,
your right hand standing on the left,
and all that remains of you.

who am i?

anxious, perching on a branch,
bending it,
riding the nauseous down- and up-
swing, off guard,
taking wing and
moving on to the next branch–
bending it.

and how am i?

because the answers do not
fit the questions,
because my heart beats way too fast at the sight of you,
because red is everything inside me–
refried, hot to the touch,
spicy, and staining.

why am i?

in your gut,
from your diaphragm,
on your breath as dense
as love can be,
exhaled in your sigh
(allusion in sound).

where am i?

gold and silver plated,
iron, steel,
helmeted, lanced.

what am i?

when all the stars are blank
and not for the giving,
and the fear of the dark and cold
is choked and airless,
when the final gasp is soundless,
when only the moment matters.

(From Like. Love. Hate. Available at Amazon.com and Smashwords)

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013

seasonal madness

as i sit at my desk
the autumn sunlight
swirls through the window
bright then dim

i imagine my thoughts
are validated then called into question
throughout the day
by such dimming and shining

as the days pass
and november lies dying
the light is ever weaker
and i wonder if that weakness reflects
the paucity of my current thoughts
or simply the changing seasons

i worry come the gray days of winter
how i’ll know which thoughts
are worth thinking

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013

Camden Street

“The devil
is beating his wife,”
my grandmother used to say
if the rain fell
while the sun was shining.
It was always a humid day
when the burdened sky
could not wait for cloud cover,
and the hurried downpour
never lasted
for more than a minute,
the faint sound of thunder
soon forgotten,
as if a dream.
Always there was a hush
on my grandmother’s face
as she stood ironing bed sheets
while the devil,
confused by what seemed
a reasonless trick of the weather,
took it out on her who
forever had been the same.

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013

illumination

(the rotating earth)
clouds raked over the blue sky and
one after one are
spun into fine white threads
(above the strands) a
sun defies the eye
yet is the source of color is
the reason for rain
–we are the light–

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013

rockin’ amazement

peace before anything.

my ink so hot
it burn though the journal,
walls tremblin’,
rockin’ amazement,
the air simmering.
I wanna tell you
how i feel right now:
the sun is sitting in the treetops
burnin’ the woods,
the focus gettin’ clear
and the light turn sharp–
fly gold, zulu arrangement,
radiating from heaven to pavement
to penetrate beyond
the muscle wall’s inner regions.

love power. slay the hate.

***************************

(This poem is composed entirely of song lyrics written by MC/actor Mos Def [Priority, Umi Says, Mathematics, Quiet Dog Bite Hard, New World Water, Auditorium, Do It Now].)

[This post was included in the June 2013 edition of the Third Sunday Blog Carnival.]

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013

Sidewalk running

Sidewalk-running heart outpaces control,
rushing fuzzy flashing past all-night minimart,
tomorrow-blinded sweaty-faced stark-eyed kohl,
sidewalk running. Heart
bouncing off the curb, traffic dodging cars–
heavy bus creaking #34 clinking manhole–
up-curb hopping invincible, pulling crowds apart.
No time–the crime of sitting parking weighty on the soul,
no tears, no ticket, thinking, street smart,
dropping coins the passing meters lining the whole
sidewalk, running heart.

© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2013

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