Tuesday, September 29, 2009

crapatacular poetry

More crappy poetry! Rejoice the well has not yet run dry.

This is the poem I was supposed to turn in yesterday which I will turn in tomorrow. (t was supposed to be like the Acadian Dream Garden which I do not like. Some of the formatting will be lost again, but it's not important. It's really short

Mythical Love Garden
Kelli Reynolds

A statue of Hades littered with rose petals
A statue of Kore covered in thorns

Wildflowers dance around the glorious fountain of Poseidon
Weeds climb and choke the cracked statue of Canace

Zeus’s concrete body reclines leisurely in the grass
Europa, Leda, Metis, and Taygete cower on the barren soil

Apollo sits in his chariot among the clover
The serpent coils around Dryope holding her fast to a poplar tree

This is the second poem is for the same class and was also due yesterday. There were no parameters.

Kelli Reynolds

You were a fuzzy lump
My little fuzzy lump
Cheeks the size of sumo wrestlers
Chubby little toes
Dimpled little legs
Thumb never far from your mouth
I fell in love
You grew
So did my love for you
Your eyes changed
They still change
Minutes became years
The fuzzy lump became a young woman
A beautiful, intelligent young woman
I miss the fuzzy lump
But I love the young woman
I would not trade her for the lump

Monday, September 28, 2009

These pictures are from June 28, 2003. The girls were so small and Jyoti wasn't even a year old yet. She will be 7 on Friday. It's amazing how much the girls have grown. I took some pictures this weekend when I visited Las Vegas, they didn't come out very well, but I'll post a couple to use as a comparison. I will try to take better pictures when I go back Friday for Jyoti's birthday.

Jyoti with some chocolate on her face
Jubilee and Jamila (12 and 16!)

Jovial (14) with her new stuffed pig

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Hopefully, you few who read my blog aren't too tired of my crappy poetry because, yes, oh, yes, I have more!
The first poem was from an exercise from my Whitman week in Lit 262 in which I had to write a poem similar to the Song of Solomon (from the Bible) about someone I love or hate. I figured writing a hate poem would be more fun. I was right. I didn't title it. Oh and the person I am referring to only uses the internet for porn.

Take heed, you are hideous, young man, you are hideous; you have enough grease in your hair to fry three months worth of food at McDonalds; your hair is like a thousand cockroaches scattering from the light.

Your eyes are like two clouded marbles, ever rotating away from each other, each repulsed by the other’s resemblance to excrement.

Your nose is like a trip to the gynecologist, unpleasantly unforgettable.

Your lips are like two pieces of used dental floss, worn out and speckled with disgusting bits of what was once food.

Your neck is like a tree stump overgrown with moss, slowly decaying.

Your chest is like a bowl of bread dough waiting to be kneaded.

Your back is like an overfilled jelly donut, pasty with bright red globules bursting out.

Your genitalia are like a Ken doll.

Your buttocks are like homemade mashed potatoes that have been left on the table to cool for a few years.

Your arms and legs are like sweater wearing pencils.

Your feet are like ginger roots dipped in Oreo cookie crumbs and skunk juice.

Your personality is like the odor that clings to a dead body decaying and decomposing

I'm not sure the second poem (which I really didn't like) will look right on here. It was for WRT205 as a list poem of signs (the instructor let me know that I didn't filfull the "list" requirement and I didn't care). I just threw it together and hoped it wasn't too craptacular.

Safe Place


Do Not Enter
Left Turn Only
Right Turn Only
No Turns
Wait For Light, Then Open Door

*Okay it didn't post the way I had it. The words were all in sign shapes, and the words were not just one right under the other, some were on the left, some were on the right and some were centered. So I guess the blog will have the *light* version of it because I probably could figure out how to duplicate it, but I should be packing for Las Vegas since my plane leaves in about twelve hours.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

feel me up, feel me down

If you have a Y chromosone, this post maybe slightly uncomfortable for you. Fair warning - this post will discuss hormones, gynecology and yes, the dreaded menopause. By this sentence almost all the guys have moved on to manlier blogs about manly things like chest waxing and the proper way to readjust a penis in public.

On Monday, I went to see my new gynecologist. I was not looking forward to it. I hate going, so much so I hadn't been in more than 4 years. (Yes, I know, that's bad, bad, bad) I picked the new place because they have a birthing center that uses all kind of cool stuff like pools, massages, spa bathrooms and what not. No, I don't need a birthing center. I just like the way they approach gynecology. There is no Dr. So and So, it's this is CeCe. I figure if a woman is going to stick things up my hoohah, I should at least be on a first name basis with her. It's also the first gynecological office to ever ask if I sleep with men, women, or BOTH. It has a happy granola feeling to it.

So I met CeCe. She was a big woman, warm and kind, she reminded me of my mother. We discussed my medical history. She congratulated me for fighting with my doctor to do a VBAC after two Csections and being told I was "too small" to ever pop a kid out of my bajinga. Then it was time for her to pop out while I put on the oh so flattering hospital gown and arranged a paper blanket on my lap.

Cece returned and felt my boobies. Good news there, nothing but fat. Finally, I slid down and let Cece play "find the cervix." It only took her two tries. My last gyne needed 4 minimum. I have an extremely high cervix apparently. My old gyne used to laugh about how hard it was to do my pap smears while I writhed in pain. Cece apologized to me and seemed genuinely upset I was not having a happy fun time. Then she left me with my shame.

So, after I redressed, Cece came back in and gave me the preliminary verdict. Either I am entering perimenopause (yippie more Hormone induced mood swings!) or my thyroid is screwed up. I'm not sure which to root for. And yes, I just ended that sentence with a preposition.

even bloggirls get the blues

Okay as part of my assignment for lit 262, I had to write a few verses of a blues-type poem. Here is my humble attempt.

It is what it is

My man done left me
Left me high and dry
My man done left me
It is what it is

My man done left me
Left me with his child
My man done left me
It is what it is

Ain’t no food on the table
While my baby cries
Ain’t no food on the table
It is what it is

My man done left me
Left me high and dry
My man done left me
It is what it is

No money in my pocket
Tears I will not cry
No money in my pocket
It is what it is

My mama warned me
He’s no good child
My mama warned me
It is what it is

My man done left me
Left me high and dry
My man done left me
It is what it is

Monday, September 14, 2009

New York

Okay, so I went to New York this weekend (well technically I went to New Jersey and just visited New York on Saturday, but it sounds cooler to say New York) and I figured I'd use it for the poem that was due this morning. The version I turned in ended at the Walk after Times Square and I added to it tonight. It's probably all out of the actual order, but my memory is a little fuzzy and I don't think the order is that important.

By the way, it's supposed to resist ending and be primitive as part of the assignment.

New York
Kelli Reynolds

Path Train
Ground Zero
Flowers, candles, tears
Unfinished balloon animal
RR Donnelly & Sons
Remaining beams form a cross
Stock Exchange
Handbag miss?
Saint Paul’s Cathedral
Times Square
Falafel and pretzels
East Village
Street faire
Roasted corn
Curly haired child
West village
Hudson River
Statue in the fog
Fake birds on posts
The Dakota
Central Park
Strawberry Field
Cameras and footprints
Living statue
Battery Park
Melted metal globe

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Okay, I have a nasty rash on my leg for which I have to take even nastier pills. The side effects list is way creepy. Hopefully, most of it will be gone by the time I land on Friday. I thought I'd check in really quick and post the poem I turned in during class today.

Nothing but Net

The banal, the inane
Must be stopped
The internet has become
A breeding ground for mediocrity
We can, Nay, We shall
Do better than this
LOLCats are forbidden
No one shall “can has”
Real words are required
Save TXTSPK for sending texts
Forwarding shall be minimal
Mass emailing is verboten
Facebook is not a verb
Quoting is fine BUT
If you have nothing original
To say Ever, say nothing
Connect, embrace, champion
Your cause, your movement, yourself
Discuss, dissect, debunk
Your issue, his issue, every event
Post your poetry, your prose
Be it good, bad or ugly
Talk about your life
Your loves, your losses, your wins
Find something no one has seen
Show it!
Entertain yourself
Ignore the Trolls
Admit your guilty pleasures
To someone you will never meet
Do not engage in
(trek is better, picard is superior)
Learn the rules of a forum
Before posting
D0 ]\]07 \/\/ri73 i]\] 1337
(in public posts)
It confuses the newbs
Be kind to newbs
You were one….once

Thursday, September 3, 2009

quick post

I haven't posted lately for two reasons, one - school has started and I therefore have homework that I must do and two - I did try to post something from my phone's web browser, but the internet ate it.

Right now, I am sitting at the downtown campus which is full of loud construction noises which really help the pounding in my head. My Lit 240 class starts in a little bit and I am anxious to see if the teacher will be wearing a blouse that is not see through. In our first two classes, I am afraid I was too distracted by the contrast of her skin to her bra to really pay attention to much of anything. This is why I can not be a teacher, I simply can not bring myself to wear anything see through.