Inner Demons
By Seanna Lyn Wilhelm

If you sneeze,
and nobody blesses it,
what happens?

Does some invisible demon
of your sin
filter out of your nostrils,
not banished
back inside with a simple pair of words.

I wonder
what it does outside. I bet it’s
confused and scared.

Please, God, bless all my sneezes
so that I can
keep my demons safe from the world.

Mouthful
By Seanna Lyn Wilhelm

I hate some words, and it has very little
to do with their meaning.

When I speak
them, my mouth has extra teeth floating
around, and making toasts by clinking
their enamel against mine.

When I hear
them, those same teeth chew on my
eardrums and let out tiny screeches around
mouthfuls of my flesh.

And these teeth
birthed from nasty words taste foul.
Like infected blood, vomit rising in
the back of the throat, and all
my worse fears.

National Poetry Month!

national_poetry_monthDid you know that April is National Poetry Month? I had some plans for IBW for this month, but since I’ve been AWOL, they haven’t really happened. Tell me, how are you celebrating?

This would be a great time for anybody and everybody to submit poems here. I’m also going to share some of my own poetry this month. Since I missed the first two weeks of April, I’m going to try to share one everyday this week; otherwise, it’ll just be a couple times a week.

And, don’t forget that Thursday, April 24 is Poem in Your Pocket Day!

Anyways, here’s the first one.

Weedy Lots of Abandoned Sunflowers
By Seanna Lyn Wilhelm

Swallowing the sun
is like putting bathwater
into a brown paper bag.
You have to rise and dive under
as well as someone—Kiss Me
And Get Down
who hears a squeak
across some filmy surface
of a mega-jumbo scorpion.

It has been attempted once before.
But like Humpty-Dumpty,
the Martian’s body and head
were all one—Are you listening?
and he was unable to comprehend
his own folly. It was obvious to the
I’m not scared of you—other creatures
that something as mighty
as the—But you should be of me—sun
would never consent to being
consumed by something so small and round.

My inspiration is always seaweed
in that—Listen to me—it slithers around
the crevices of my brain in a slick
embrace of mind boggling ideas.
I know that it will one day rip me
apart into various unseemly—Do it
now—rampaging thoughts
but nothing else will satisfy me—You truly
know nothing of yourself—because
no idol, image, or anything
comparable to creation could ever capture
God’s essence…

This poem was birthed in Dr. Tom Hunley‘s class in response to one of the poetry exercises that are in his book, The Poetry Gymnasium. Said exercise involved a bag full of scraps of paper that Tom has accumulated over the years. Each scrap of paper has a word or phrase on it, and each student had to reach in the bag and grab a fistful as it was being passed around the room.

At first, I wasn’t so sure about the exercise because it is kind of complicated to take a bunch of random stuff and turn it into a coherent poem. The above poem is the result of much editing. If I remember correctly, the first draft was more gibberish than anything else.

And, like everything else, I’m still in the editing process with this poem. I’m rather fond of what I wound up creating, partly because I’ve never really written anything like it before. But, for that same reason, I’m not so sure about it. Especially  the parts in italics. Thoughts?

Writing Prompt #6

Today’s Writing Prompt is:

Tell the story of Dr. Knuckles and Billy Bean.

My Response to Last Week’s Prompt is:

Untitled

How does it do that?
Dandelions might be
a heartier flower, but
it isn’t exactly a body
builder. Fragile green
stuff wasn’t meant to
suck its gut in to squish
through layers of cement.
This is probably one of
the few times that this
little yellow flower will
actually be seen as
hope instead of a weed.

Writing Prompt #5

Today’s Writing Prompt is:

My Response to Last Week’s Prompt:

Untitled

Favorite shape?
I don’t have one.
Who has time for
shapes anymore?
I’ve never really
liked math anyways,
and I hated geometry.
But we need math
and shapes to live, right?
I know they’re
important in some way.
Why would we
study them otherwise?

I think I like
non-shapes best.
You know?
The ones that aren’t
quite perfectly perfect
like the rest of them.

Writing Prompt #4

Today’s Writing Prompt is:

your favorite shape

My Response to Last Week’s Prompt:

Untitled

It’s vibrant pop of red
is so startling that, at least
at first, I’m so in awe
that I can’t identify what it is.
Once I do, what hope the little
bird brings..such vivacious life
in such a small thing
amidst the barren white
of cruel, crusty snow and ice.
Little male red birds and
female brown birds fighting
for warmth in a bush full
of tight red berries
bouncing into the snow as if
they were as startled as I was
by the birds’ sudden appearance.