Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Decisions 2000 & 8 by Jakob Chapman

zealous pie reminds me of horrible treatment
.....nutty cars, complex playgrounds
.....didactic shoes and an extra-large sweater.

an absorbing woman reminds me of anxious operations
.....puffy dust, coherent ladybugs
.....clean market and an upset middle.

free light reminds me of huge competition
.....makeshift meals, a muddled rainstorm
.....fierce fuel and my nippy income.

aromatic toothpaste reminds me of adventurous snails
.....clammy crayons, soggy attention
.....scintillating tomatoes and silly uncles named Sam.

oafish police remind me of an unsightly cannon
.....jittery crime, tart poison
.....illegal shirts and powerful cats.

lean nerve reminds me of thoughtful writing
.....disillusioned feet, wary reason
.....nonstop wash and violet wrists.

a political laugh reminds me of ambitious art
.....obsolete face, ashamed wave
.....magnificent education and a murky mind.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

“Little Milton” Inspired by Ian Anderson's “Thick as a Brick” by Jakob Chapman

Would have you minded
had I sat that one out?
Never drawn lace
or black curtains
and laid the bricks
of someone else's fortune?
Who wants to be the poet
who lost his fame
in last minute rumpus
all for the unpopular desire
to be unique?


Progressive rock aside
for a quite moments reflection
after reading the morning paper,
who will remember
Gerald Bostock
for anything after '72?
I never asked
to be a visionary
fictitious poet protégé!
I collect my royalties
and dream
about what life would be like
if your wisemen
knew how it feels
to be thick...
as a....

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Because I Love You

I walked home barefoot
after tucking you in
and locking your door

the sidewalk was wet
uneven in places
warm while crossing
the road

periodically rubbing
rocks out of my soul

I had an answer
prepaired if anyone
were to ask
why I was walking

I hope when you find
my shoes
in your livingroom
you understand

I wished you
could have felt
the sidewalk

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Fill thy Purse by Jakob Chapman

O thou lout with surly folly-fallen nut-hooks!
Wherefore art thou a clouted crook-pated pumpion!
Thou didst leave me like a cockered ill-nurtured horn-beast!
Quench my spleeny pottle-deep desire, thou mammet!
May a tottering onion-eyed harpy give birth in your bed.

O thou bugbear with jarring rump-fed measles!
Wherefore art thou a cockered pottle-deep clotpole!
Thou didst leave me like a warped tardy-gaited flax-wench!
Quench my fawning fat-kidneyed desire, thou malt-worm!
May a vain base-court fustilarian give birth in your bed.

O thou fustilarian with puny spur-galled dewberrys!
Wherefore art thou a gleeking rude-growing haggard!
Thou didst leave me like a infectious ill-breeding pumpion!
Quench my spleeny weather-bitten desire, thou hedge-pig!
May a gleeking fool-born strumpet give birth in your bed.

O thou canker-blossom with villainous doghearted codpieces!
Wherefore art thou a reeky rude-growing baggage!
Thou didst leave me like a bootless knotty-pated hedge-pig!
Quench my droning weather-bitten desire, thou malt-worm!
May a vain hedge-born flirt-gill give birth in your bed.

O thou nut-hook with droning shard-borne hedge-pigs!
Wherefore art thou a puny tardy-gaited apple-john!
Thou didst leave me like a infectious fat-kidneyed coxcomb!
Quench my mewling flap-mouthed desire, thou lewdster!
May a droning rude-growing flap-dragon give birth in your bed.

If sticks and stones be the food of hate, break on,
Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Dam By Jakob Chapman (Inspired by Barry Seiler’s “Window”)

The gate opens early morning
But ends in flood

It would like to gush fountains
Water-spilled mote

It would like to be an ocean
Suddenly fluid

It would like to be something

Something like this

A dam without a crack

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Dam #2 By Jakob Chapman

If spring had a name,
how could I speak hers
in its presence
without offending
the same season
with the sound
that suits her best?

If water could be bound
to only one place,
I would use
the new-found
impossible method
to contain my heart
and shut it away.

Until all bitter captivity
one day turns the sad
broken organ mad,
and sends its contents
bursting the dam wall,
racing around
desperate avenues,
until it finally finds her,
pools about her,

her white bare

Saturday, April 19, 2008

40 Years…. By Jakob Chapman (Based on the lyrics of Ian Anderson)

That old sun keeps on shining;
have not the patience to ignore all that.

Give sixty days for just one night,
salvation à la mode, and
your deafness a shout!

Do you still see me even here?
as you cross the circle line,
there's a haze on the skyline.

Unfashionable to the end,
the queen of all the pack.
Northern fathers western child.

In the wee hours I'll meet you,
the one day I would change for a Monday.

Refill the cup and drink it up. Say goodnight and
careful (how you go) about your usual business.
But she didn't grace our table.

Big Riff, rough boy, wants to be a singer in a band
before we learned October’s song.

Out in the middle distance, still more tragedies are playing:
soft and silky night walkers.
It said, “I love you” in small letters.

I simply had to read it twice.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

SPAM by Jakob Chapman

sitting—sleepily singing
stop spending settlements

pretty patriotic praises
partly pretended Pattie’s-day

antagonize an afternoon
at another after

midnight mass migraine
matinee muck mannerisms

sitting prettily after midnight
singing praises at mass

sleepy patriotic afternoon matinee
stop pretending another migraine

settle partly antagonized mannerisms
spend Pattie’s-day a muck

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Contest Results

The results of the contests are in! Although my poetry did not place in any of the contests, I did win 4th place in the Mayhew General Short Story Contest. With a pat on the back, $100 in the wallet, and a free steak dinner for two I repost the poems I pulled to enter in the contests. Better luck next year.

Monday, March 31, 2008

JoLynn by Jakob Chapman

fiery hair fantasy
makes me nervous
like Brand or Bleys
or she who is white and
“ fair”
(Celtic pale)

makes me stare
which memory
keeps me warm
when all other lights
“go out”
(fire of Galadriel)

but I love
the picture
of her new shoes
“little brown boots”
(modern Caligula)

mid-calf suede
(gloves of Sweden)

kept in her wallet
to show me
“simple gifts”
(Appalachian Spring)

which memory
warms my sheets
at night
begs my attention in
(my red-haired Giffen good)

Friday, March 28, 2008

Jack-in-the-box By Jakob Chapman

red box
on the wall
reaching forward
each time I pass
grasp the handle
knuckles white
firming grip
blood burning
like fire

save yourselves

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

String Theory by Jakob Chapman

official handicap
lips forming the possibility
of pastrami on rye
knee pads and sunglasses
llama rodeo
sunshine and physics
physical attraction theory
in a getaway car

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

One Like the Other by Jakob Chapman

another new day
half hour early
shower and pray
write down questions
anticipate answers
try to guess
what she will say

the time
waste it away
were we on five?
or always on six?

I lose track of the hits
it takes me to stay
on absentmindedness

Friday, March 14, 2008

Understanding Tuesday Afternoon by Jakob Chapman

I am stuck
in redheaded
I can’t get out
of the lovely

covered with mud
hose them down
fuel the intensity
of the draught
delight in saturation
it’s okay
mother won’t
find out
about the flood

I am sorry
about haystacks
the lack of love
and devotion
acquired from cats
thankful lunch
with or without
satisfy cravings
strange emotions

I am burned
by redheaded
my heart is ready
it couldn’t be

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Reading Jane Eyre by Jakob Chapman

my hand is a spider
crawling on the ceiling
my covers too warm
the book by my side
spinning my mind
causing me harm

the clock on the stand
races faster
drinking my sleep
bringing me nearer
the 10 o’clock classroom
wishing for Tuesday
devotion and noon

bunk bed creaks
desire an end to games
roommate speaks
I listen
as he sleeps
jealously excited
awaiting alarm

red is new
favorite color
I think of her often
silent alms
always later into night

pitiful sleep
calm surrender
and claims
the spider on the wall

as always…

as always.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Empty Chair by Jakob Chapman

fake granite
composite plastic
cold curves
sharp line
cutting narrow
fourth row
to the right
mother hole
counting seconds
forgetting minuets
rigid awkward soul
I was supposed to meet
and never lose
the imposable hope

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Rowboats by Jakob Chapman

glide away Sisu
glide away Jazz

waiting alone
in a house of photographs
constant smiling faces
a few watts of light
help me remember
keep me up at night

clip the grass
when it gets too long
don't forget
she'll be coming back
by the time
I've gone

house-sitting memories
tale set for one
empty arms
album in lap
empty pages
the desire to fill

little boats
on the lake
little boats making
little wakes
glide away...
glide away....

Monday, March 3, 2008

Washing Windows by Jakob Chapman

I am always amazed
at the clarity
pure pool
of crystal style
that rests
before lashes
increasing vantage
decreasing ambiguity
of secret smiles
and hymn numbers
seen from the isle

fuzzy shapes
moving in the grass
throw them away
beside the book
on the blanket
they get in the way

I am always amazed
at the clarity
the freedom
from indistinctness
which happens
every time
I put on my glasses

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Breast Cancer by Jakob Chapman

vinyl paper clips
assorted colors
thin under-wires
digging under
finding the last
that’s not pink
to hold my papers
without sending
a wrong

Thursday, February 28, 2008

LOVE, LOVE, RUN! by Jakob Chapman

Sink down to the dusty cigarette!
Sink down to the cold skyscraper!
Sink down to the misty door!
Sink down to the frail concrete!

Hate faceless faith!
Hate small life!
Hate roasted exhaustion!
Hate rainy anger!

Roughly heal your deadline!
Quietly buy your flower!
Openly disarm your girl!
Quickly fight your cigarette!
Loudly desire your job!

Calmly sell your rain!

Monday, February 25, 2008

Oblivious by Jakob Chapman

I could not live
with that
and typing
snapping her
slender fingers
to her hip-hop
her own hair
flipping it out
and waving
her hand
in self-conscious

Friday, February 22, 2008

This Is The Place by Jakob Chapman

this is the place where I sit on a bench
and wait for a golf-cart

this is the place where the sun shines
and warms the january air

this is the place where a new year
of poetry
begins reluctantly
in public

this is the place where people know my name
because it is printed on my shirt
in sharpie
in my own handwriting
and I smile at small girls
who wander from their young mothers
and I wonder if it was really worth
the effort to come
and meet people I already casually knew
back home
who left
and someone I knew years ago
his name escapes me
but I know it must be Loyd
because it is printed on his shirt
in his own handwriting
with sharpie

this is the place where I am
I could go back
no questions asked
several answers silently given
but for now this is the place
where I sit
and wait
and wait alone

Friday, February 15, 2008

Temperary Changes Due to Contests

The following poems are currently entered in poetry contests and some have been pulled from my blog depending on contest rules:

Greener Pastures
Loose Change
Paint by Numbers

Poems will be reposted after contest consideration and other submitted nonposted poems will be added. Sorry for this inconvience, but a writer has to make a living.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

A Listmaker's Life by Jakob Chapman

making a list
of do's and don'ts
will's and won'ts
checking them off
one by one
cross them off
once they're done
prioritize from one to five
do the fours before the ones
they are always more fun
and sit up
late at night
wondering why
fours are not ones
and ones are not fours
or fives
if that where the case
everything important
would always get done
and life would be fun

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Greener Pastures by Jakob Chapman

sleep with the fold
curly haired ewe
blades crisp
for a pillow
jade carpet
jewels for food
breathe in shade

easter dress
dandelion croquette
without shoes
hold the locks
Holland in hand
bring her nearer
feed the hunger
before the sun goes down

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Leave the Foil on the Floor by Jakob Chapman

by the time
she came around
the foil was already
on the floor

the apartment
I cleaned
I scrubbed
the sinks
and tub
dishes I spooled
fell away
into evening chaos:
and sloppy joes

I would have offered
apple beer
and together
we could dirty
a kitchen
mealtime coquette
warm hands
held over the stove
wait for the baguette
don’t bother
the dishes
in the sink
share an omelet
one plate
one utensil
if she doesn’t mind

but she did
show up
hours later
hours too late
and I started
to worry
dropped the foil
getting hungry

Monday, February 4, 2008

Patriotic by Jakob Chapman

there is reason
for upset
Tom Petty
can't make it better

flawless finishes
fouled up
against giants

false securities
touch down
predictions awry

ruin perfection
for nine billion

old England
might take them back
after 42

wars shouldn't be fought
on Sunday

Saturday, February 2, 2008

Cheetos by Jakob Chapman

orange fingers
only the first three
tips soft
almost sticky
bag in left hand
fingers on the right

can't say
I'm sorry
while eating
more than 21

tonight indulge
a little fun:
lick fingers clean

Friday, February 1, 2008

Death Sentence by Jakob Chapman

when it is my time
to go the way of the Zelazny
I want a pencil
and ream of paper
to prove
that I really can’t
do any better

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Malzbier by Jakob Chapman

crisp cold pop
of the bottle cap
rolls across the floor

Monday evening
tie undone
hole in sock
toe hanging out
dew forming
between fingers

liquid bread
coldly warming
my insides
big bang
in my head
the universe
proclaiming truth
in these words:

"and barley
for all
useful animals
and for mild drinks"

peaceful risk
foamy head
eve of freedom
have another
then off
to bed

This poem is currently under contest consideration.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Noncommittal: A Definition by Jakob Chapman

I never knew she wore glasses
before she followed me out the door
after class;

her slow but steady
intention heavy
way of posing
queries about my motives
behind not noticing the leaves
turning corners,
misguided fall reaction,
unable to find a place
where a leaf has not already fallen
resting where I now stand
wishing it were spring,
warm and rotten,
like an apple you don’t see
until you are picking it out
from between your bare toes,
trying to tell yourself
that it really isn’t so bad
being the only one
who thinks that life is too long
just to sit around
messing with words
until they mean what you think they mean,

but she just smiled,
unaware of what exactly
she was asking me to do,
thinking that life is a long song
or a passionate play
to which I am cast,
but I shake my head
but she just smiled,
having shown her hand
and I wish the sleeves
of all girls
would be as soiled
with their animal opinions

and I reply,
“maybe I see you there.”

Monday, January 28, 2008

Paint By Numbers by Jakob Chapman

Inspired by Lana Grow’s "Catch the Rhythm, Join the Party"

We paint in packs
the way others might party
(without parental "super-vision")
secretly splashing pigment
on each other’s paintings
when they are not paying

Distract a neighbor
while the sable brush
of another flicks
a shower of sparkles,
glittering globs of gold,
flying tincture murder,
or just a bad case
of Montezuma’s

And watch
as the hand-guided
maquillage blooms
(like an atomic blusher),
and drips down
the oily foresail surface
like a projectiled
ovum accident
caught on candid

Join the party;
play the blame game:
who did what where
as we regard
the rumba’d rhythmicity
of botched realism,
and jive jovially
toward artistic

Consider it foul
(if you will call
it anything at all)
artistic sabotage
mingled with
mischievous multi-chromatic

But at least it is
still recognizably

This poem won the 2007 ARCC Connecting With Art Poetry Contest and was featured in the 2007 Rapids Review. This poem is currently under contest consideration.

Loose Change by Jakob Chapman

rolls away
tumbling down spinning
glint in her eye
strike the pavement
reflect the sun
summer day
losing basketball
and falling
from so high
she strikes the pavement
rolls away