Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Looking for Poems?

You'll find them over at their new home:

http://HannahSix.blogspot.com

Your company is the house-warming present they want most!



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Tuesday, August 27, 2013

My poems have a new home!

Looking for today's poem? You'll find it on my 
poetry-and-writing blog: http://hannahsix.blogspot.com/

From now on I'll be posting my poetry and other writing-related content on 

Please come on over--and be sure to bookmark the new site! I cherish your
 company on this crazy, year-long poetic journey...

Thank you for visiting, reading--and for returning! 

Hannah  

Knitting/Crochet: http://knitsix.blogspot.com/

PS. 
This move means knitters will see some knitting content here on Knit*Six soon :)


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Monday, August 26, 2013

New home for poetry!

Hello!

Starting today (Monday, Aug. 26), I will post my daily poems on my poetry-and-writing blog: http://hannahsix.blogspot.com/   

Please come on over and don't forget to bookmark the new site! (
I enjoy your company on this crazy, year-long poetic journey...

Thank you for visiting, reading, and returning! 

Hannah  

Poetry/Writing blog: http://hannahsix.blogspot.com/  

Knitting/Crochet blog: http://knitsix.blogspot.com/

PS. 
This move means knitters may actually see some knitting content here on Knit*Six soon :)


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Sunday, August 25, 2013

Poem 145: Swoon

Dear readers: 

Starting tomorrow (Monday, Aug. 26), I will only be posting my daily poems on my writing blog: http://hannahsix.blogspot.com/   Please bookmark the site now, so you can keep on keeping me company on this crazy year-long journey...

This move means knitters may actually see some knitting content here on Knit*Six soon :)

Thank you for visiting, reading, and returning! 

And now, on to the poetry...
 

SWOON
 
come sink down with me
let the spring sponge of the earth
absorb your dreams
where we lie, in a
field of blood-red butterflies
heady with delight
in a night of our own making


© 2013, by Hannah Six
 

 


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Saturday, August 24, 2013

Poem 144: Like Dew

Close enough to kiss
Smoke entwined in pas de deux
Stars falling like dew

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Dear readers: 

Starting Monday, Aug. 26,, I will post my daily poems on my writing blog: http://hannahsix.blogspot.com/  

Please bookmark the new poetry site now, so you can keep on keeping me company on this crazy year-long journey...

This also means knitters may be seeing some knitting content here on Knit*Six soon :)

Thank you for visiting, reading, and returning! 

Hannah


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Friday, August 23, 2013

Poem 143: Sloe Dance


Sloe Gin Fizz with lime.
Coral lipstick on the glass.
Sax breathes her a dream.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


With appreciation to Ken Peplowski for his heartachingly gorgeous recording of "It's a Lonesome Old Town."



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Thursday, August 22, 2013

Poem 142: Thimbleful

She of the velvet existence--
lonely for 
the camomile beach and 
the creak and sway of old, moored boats and
her thimbleful of unhurried joy--
laughed pleasantly, ignoring
the old missing that pleaded
and tightened, her fingers
clutching a long-missing tube 
of Prussian Blue paint.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


Dear readers: 

My poetry will soon appear on its own (non-knitting) blog! After this week, I will post my daily poems at  http://hannahsix.blogspot.com/  

Please bookmark the new site now, so you can keep on keeping me company on this crazy journey...

Thank you for reading! 

Hannah


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Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Poem 141: Toward Afternoon

sloping sloping off the bed
watery flowers sliding down 
the window, lilac and gray 
and green slick as a baby 
in bathwater sloping and 
rolling toward morning like 
dead weight praying that 
they come alive again
when the gray seeps through
the blinds like water spreading 
in a pool of daybreak sloping
sloping toward afternoon

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


Dear readers: 

My poetry will soon appear on its own (non-knitting) blog! After this week, I will post my daily poems at  http://hannahsix.blogspot.com/  

Please bookmark the new site now, so you can continue keeping me company on this crazy journey...

Thank you for reading! 

Hannah




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Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Poem 140: Cinnamon Day

Dear readers: 

My poetry will soon appear on its own (non-knitting) blog! After this week, I will post my daily poems at  http://hannahsix.blogspot.com/  

Please bookmark the new site now, so you can continue keeping me company on this crazy journey...

Thank you for reading! 

Hannah


CINNAMON DAY

A slant of cinnamon sun,
A shiver of frost on the lawn,
The kind of day that calls 
For an apple-red jacket and
A brisk, windblown 
Country walk,
Or a New England college 
Football game,
Woodsmoke in the air,
Brown leaves crumbling 
Underfoot, icy, still nights 
Flecked with stars--
Shards of light 
pricking the dark--
And cider steaming on the stove
Ladled into handmade mugs,
Warming hands and home 
And air heavy with 
Heady scents of autumn--
Sun-warmed wool, damp earth 
And curbs lined with armies
Of dark bags full to bursting
With summer's leftovers.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


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Monday, August 19, 2013

Poem 139: Softly

Today, I know better
Than to expect a
Sweet goodnight and
Sleep tight when I reach
Inside and stub my fingertips 
On the cold hard bottom 
Of the jar. Only crumbs.
Warm milk, then, and 
Something mild,
Saltines, perhaps, or hot,
Buttered white-bread toast.
Tomorrow the cayenne,
And ginger, bitter chocolate
And tart cherry pie. The most
I can hope for now is 
A sweet breeze through 
My veiled window and
A light burning softly
Beside my cool pillow.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


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Sunday, August 18, 2013

Poem 138: Campbell's Soup on the Stoop

In honor of Bad Poetry Day
 (Aug. 18, 2013)

All alone with my thoughts 
And a can of Campbell's soup
I light up a cigarette
And take it with my dinner
Out onto the stoop.
Sitting there I stare out 
Into thin air
And think about the way
I'd wished my life 
Might have been.
Still, I am happy enough
With my Chunky Sirloin and
My brew, in the shade,
On my stoop, being watched by
My snoopy landlady,
Because I don't care
What she thinks.
I know I have everything
A man needs to be happy.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six





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Saturday, August 17, 2013

Poem 137: Thief

Cruel, cashmere breeze 

Slips in like a thief, 
Stealing my breath 
With a sweet violet kiss.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six



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Poem 136: Girl on the Dock

At the end of the L-shaped dock,
Where summer-browned children,
Yelping, jump into murky green,
A girl. Alone, book in lap, 
She sits facing shore, leaning 
On one arm, pale, flawless 
Legs curled to her left 
In a studied pose: 
"Starlet at leisure,"
Inspired, no doubt, by fantasies
Of old-Hollywood glamour 
And intrigue. Soft as a petal,
A lake-borne breeze ruffles 
And lifts the smooth, caramel 
hair from her shoulders.
She looks up, as if surprised,
From the page she has not turned 
In half an hour, then returns 
To her almost-convincing display 
Of superb focus, careful 
Not to notice the sweating, 
Brightly-suited crowd scattered,
Like pebbles, on the shore. 
We are her contrasting background, Setting off her cool, milky beauty 
To perfection. She is lovely, 
In her shorts and 
Knotted checked blouse, 
Sunglasses and sandals,
Pretending to read, 
Watching herself play--unaware 
Of how obviously--the leading role 
In the movie in her mind. 

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


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Friday, August 16, 2013

Poem 136: First Cup

Six green rocking chairs
Sunrise warms the ocean breeze
Welcome, gentle hours

Low morning voices
The day unfurls and ripples
Drawn out by the tide

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

(Photo: Chris Six)


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Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Poem 135: Sherpa

the utter ice of it, the white 
white broken black and blue 
and void unstoppable gaping 
maws sucking souls into unfathomable 
frozen rattling death breath, 
the beating beating beating of feet 
and hearts and minds and the 
clattering lungs and bits of gear 
dangling randomly from ribs 
and packs his is too light 
because his is too heavy 
the cold the cold the 
cold razor blade slicing off lips 
and tongues and toes and ears 
nothing to hear anyway and 
the wet the sickly sweet smell 
of wet always wet and 
light pack overbearing assuming 
ha ha ha in the face 
of majesty tramping over virgin 
snow and humanity so disposable 
unseen unheard a herd 
of silent keepers kept

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six



Note: Today's poem was inspired by this fascinating interview with Grayson Schaffer, a senior editor and writer for Outside magazine, who wrote an article about Sherpa guides on Mt Everest: http://goo.gl/RhGT3T


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Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Poem 134: Precious Gem

Citrine summer day
Warm topaz afternoon melts
Amethyst at dusk

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


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Monday, August 12, 2013

Poem 133: Lessons Learned

I used to think it mattered,
     but it doesn't.
I used to think I needed, 
     when I wanted.
I used to trust that people 
     really meant it.
I used to think I would,
     but I won't.

I used to think I'd love it, 
     but I hate it.
I used to think I couldn't,
     but I can.
I used to think the whole
     world was watching.
I used to think I cared,
     but I don't.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


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Sunday, August 11, 2013

Poem 132: The Keeper

Turning from the stove,
Iron skillet in hand, 
He flashed
Her a glittering smile.
Strong coffee was brewed;
He poured her a mug,
And told her to sit
For awhile.
She closed her eyes, "Happy 
as a clam," she thought,
Cheerfully mellow
And mild.
And a waterfall of notions
Surged in her mind:
This catch 
Must not return 
To the wild.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

PS. My challenge was to use all of the following words in a poem: smule, glittering, clam, cheerfully, waterfall


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Saturday, August 10, 2013

Poem 131: Sleep Me

Sleep me, close 
My eyes and rest me
Savagely, surrender me 
And wrap me in 
Unthinking swells of 
Indigo unconsciousness
Sleep me, slip me
Into a nest of 
Qiviut clouds
Downy and warm as
Primeval loam
Sleep me, sink me 
In sea-glass
Shards of silence 
That cut through the 
Thinking thinking thinking
Aloft, sleep me home
Under, drift down
Sun-slanted leagues
And layers of tranquil
Slumber, peace of 
Mind, the gap 
Between has 
And will is deep, so 
Sleep me sleep me sleep 

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


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Poem 130: Puppy

Puppy in a car
Parking lot on sunny day
Owner needs training

(c) Hannah Six

A study by the Stanford University School of Medicine showed that temperatures inside cars can rise dramatically even on mild days. With outside temperatures as low as 72 degrees, researchers found that a car's interior temperature can heat up by an average of 40 degrees within an hour, with 80 percent of that increase in the first 30 minutes. A cracked window provides little relief from this oven effect. The Stanford researchers found that a cracked window had an insignificant effect on both the rate of heating and the final temperature after an hour.
(Source: King 5 - Seattle News)

P.S. No worries... Animal Protection soon arrived on the scene :)


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Friday, August 09, 2013

Poem 129: Some Old Song

At the pink of the day
The light lures my thoughts astray
And the old times still seem 
Fresh as falling dew

Somewhere far off a band will play
While silk-draped couples sway
And once again I'm with you

Twilight falls like a veil
As my reverie grows pale
And the jasmine sweetly
Puts the day to bed

All the dancers have wandered off
Your footsteps, too, grow soft
Night falls as I walk away.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six 






 

























 


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Wednesday, August 07, 2013

Poem 128: Early-birds

Face to face they sit
Silence, coffee between them
Nothing left to say

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


Photo: Penrose Diner, Philadelphia


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Tuesday, August 06, 2013

Poem 127: Difficult, Pt. Two

rippling cavernous slides
strike dromedary urgency
into oblong eyelids
lashes like palm fronds 
slick with unctuous
chartreuse anticipation 

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


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Monday, August 05, 2013

Poem 126: So Happy

An astonishing cocktail
of sunlight and warmth
is lavished on 
our cool and misty world 
today. We walk around, smiling 
like people in-the-know,
and say 
Can you believe this heat? 
Days ago, 
when it rained, 
we came out of our houses 
and scowled at the sky. 
Can you believe how cold it is?
And we told each other how, 
when it warmed up 
again, we would be 
so happy.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six



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Sunday, August 04, 2013

Poem 125: Bound

Swaddled in 
my threadbare blanket 
of weakness and pain,
I arrange myself in bed 
again, and watch
the friendly, old world 
unfold, from a distance.

(c) 2013 by Hannah Six

"ME is a serious, disabling and chronic organic (i.e. physical not mental) disorder. ME has been classified by the World Health Organisation (ICD 10 G 93.3) as a neurological illness affecting approximately 200,000 individuals within the UK. Of that number, approximately 25% of those affected will go on to develop severe ME which is an extremely debilitating illness, sometimes lasting for years, in some cases, even decades, often rendering the sufferer completely housebound, wheelchair & bedbound and dependent upon carers for their everyday needs.  The Chief Medical Officer’s Report on the subject of CFS/ME (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome/Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) issued in January 2002 recognises that “CFS/ME should be classed as a chronic condition with long term effects on health, alongside other illnesses such as multiple sclerosis and motor neurone disease."

Source: http://www.investinme.org/faq-1.htm




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Saturday, August 03, 2013

Poem 124: Welcome Guests

The house 
            was dim,
the day, bright.
When the door 
               opened,
you quickly stepped 
into the light 
and closed it 
with a click,
locking the long night 
               inside.
Another door 
               opened
as you stood 
               blinking 
on the dazzling sidewalk,
waiting to regain 
your sight.
Unafraid, you 
entered and left it 
               open wide 
for the autumn air,
the honeyed sunlight,
those sweet old songs,
and all the other 
welcome guests 
you knew
would come along.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six

Photo: Wikipedia Commons


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Friday, August 02, 2013

Poem 123: Friday

Scent of soap on steam
Water running as you shave
Must be Friday night

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six


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Thursday, August 01, 2013

Poem 122: Enemy Lines

Behind the door, in the dark, 
you lurk, more frightening 
than those childhood monsters 
my mother conquered
with a click of the light switch. 

For decades, you possessed me, 
altered me, held me prisoner, 
brought me to my knees, impoverished 
in so many ways. 

There were days when the sun broke through the clouds 
and my doubts cleared 
under the cerulean sky, 
when my escape seemed certain 
and a song of rejoicing 
already softened my lips. 

But, no. You tracked me 
and lay in wait. 
Ambush was only 
a matter of time. 

Why, then, did you let me go 
when I last ran? 
Why was the line you drew 
in the sand 
so shallow and vague? 
At play in the waves, 
I only realized I'd crossed it 
when I looked back 
at the beach 
and saw I was alone. 

How brave I felt! 
How bold and proud! 
Children bounded and splashed 
around me, grinning back 
at my self-satisfied smile. 

If only-- If only!  If only I'd stayed 
closer to shore--
If only the current 
that bore me further out 
had been clear and blue, 
not cold and opaque 
as unfeeling jade. 

Maybe then I might have 
noticed the crescent shadow 
that flickered 
in the depths, 
beneath me. 

Maybe then, I'd still be 
innocent of your insidious 
grasp, ensnaring my ankle 
so delicately, 
a mere tickle. 

Maybe then, I'd have remembered 
to leave the light on 
as I slipped below 
the surface of sleep
into unfathomable dreams.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six



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