Tag Archives: Blackout Poetry

the now

theNow

the now

shadows fall between
present and past
where forgotten dreams
reach through
lulled
by a memory

~kat


A Blackout Poem inspired by the poem by Jessie Redmon Fauset below:

Douce Souvenance
By Jessie Redmon Fauset

Again, as always, when the shadows fall,
In that sweet space between the dark and day,
I leave the present and its fretful claims
And seek the dim past where my memories stay.
I dream an old, forgotten, far-off dream,
And think old thoughts and live old scenes anew,
Till suddenly I reach the heart of Spring—
The spring that brought me you!
I see again a little woody lane,
The moonlight rifting golden through the trees;
I hear the plaintive chirp of drowsy bird
Lulled dreamward by a tender, vagrant breeze;
I hold your hand, I look into your eyes,
I touch your lips,—oh, peerless, matchless dower!
Oh, Memory thwarting Time and Space and Death!
Oh, Little Perfect Hour!

This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on June 13, 2020 by the Academy of American Poets.


i am them

i am them

my ancestors have muttered
through me, a mouth like fire
that says I am brave, that
only those who love the light
can comprehend, I am centuries
away from my people, their
history writes my solidarity
with them, I am a continent,
a country, a home, my body
whistling empty in reverence

~kat


A Blackout Poem inspired by the poem below, by by Assétou Xango

Many of my contemporaries,
role models,
But especially,
Ancestors
Have a name that brings the tongue to worship.
Names that feel like ritual in your mouth.
I don’t want a name said without pause,
muttered without intention.
I am through with names that leave me unmoved.
Names that leave the speaker’s mouth unscathed.
I want a name like fire,
like rebellion,
like my hand gripping massa’s whip—
I want a name from before the ships
A name Donald Trump might choke on.
I want a name that catches you in the throat
if you say it wrong
and if you’re afraid to say it wrong,
then I guess you should be.
I want a name only the brave can say
a name that only fits right in the mouth of those who love me right,
because only the brave
can love me right
Assétou Xango is the name you take when you are tired
of burying your jewels under thick layers of
soot
and self-doubt.
Assétou the light
Xango the pickaxe
so that people must mine your soul
just to get your attention.
If you have to ask why I changed my name,
it is already too far beyond your comprehension.
Call me callous,
but with a name like Xango
I cannot afford to tread lightly.
You go hard
or you go home
and I am centuries
and ships away
from any semblance
of a homeland.
I am a thief’s poor bookkeeping skills way from any source of ancestry.
I am blindly collecting the shattered pieces of a continent
much larger than my comprehension.
I hate explaining my name to people:
their eyes peering over my journal
looking for a history they can rewrite
Ask me what my name means
What the fuck does your name mean Linda?
Not every word needs an English equivalent in order to have significance.
I am done folding myself up to fit your stereotype.
Your black friend.
Your headline.
Your African Queen Meme.
Your hurt feelings.
Your desire to learn the rhetoric of solidarity
without the practice.
I do not have time to carry your allyship.
I am trying to build a continent,
A country,
A home.
My name is the only thing I have that is unassimilated
and I’m not even sure I can call it mine.
The body is a safeless place if you do not know its name.
Assétou is what it sounds like when you are trying to bend a syllable
into a home.
With shaky shudders
And wind whistling through your empty,
I feel empty.
There is no safety in a name.
No home in a body.
A name is honestly just a name
A name is honestly just a ritual
And it still sounds like reverence.

by Assétou Xango


white noise

white noise

I am bones, marrow,
a song in mute, white
noise silence, a blank
nothing, my soul red,
I am a glimpse, a breath
I am undone by worry
turning to dust

~kat


A Blackout Poem inspired by the poem below by Afaa Michael Weaver.

Flux

I am a city of bones
deep inside my marrow,
a song in electric chords,
decrescendo to mute, rise
to white noise, half silences
in a blank harmony as all
comes to nothing, my eyes
the central fire of my soul,
yellow, orange, red—gone
in an instant and then back
when
 I am, for a glimpse,
as precise as a bird’s breath,
when I am perfect, undone
by hope when hope will not
listen, the moon wasting
to where I need not
 worry
that bones turn to ash,
a brittle staccato in dust.


morning

mist-like rain
roses adorning
the wind sighs
my soul sings
‘tis morning

~kat


I couldn’t sleep before assuaging the Muse after that dreadful NaPoWriMo! A Blackout Poem was just what I needed to lure her back from hiding! 😉 based on the poem below, found words on bold text:

Morning

Paul Laurence Dunbar – 1872-1906

The mist has left the greening plain, 
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain
The coquette rose awakes again 
     Her lovely self adorning
 
The Wind is hiding in the trees, 
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease, 
Until the rose says “kiss me, please” 
    ‘Tis morning, ’tis morning. 
 
With staff in hand and careless-free, 
The wanderer fares right jauntily, 
For towns and houses are, thinks he, 
   For scorning, for scorning,
My soul is swift upon the wing, 
And in its deeps a song I bring; 
come, Love, and we together sing
“‘Tis morning, ’tis morning.” 


heaven is silent – NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Challenge Day 5

heaven is silent

darkness softly creeping
heaven closed
my restless dreams turn cold
there’s a wall
the night speaking without a sound
a songbird sings,
words echoed in warning,
the piper will change your soul…
the prophets whispered in silence,
we all want to buy heaven

~kat


A Blackout poem for NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Challenge Day 15: write a poem inspired by your favorite kind of music. I chose two favorite songs, Jimmy Page / Robert Plant’s “Stairway to Heaven” and Paul Simon’s “The Sounds of Silence”. As an extra challenge to myself. I alternated lines from the found words in each song to create the poem above.


Found words are highlighted in bold below:

The Sounds of Silence

Hello darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence
“Fools, ” said I, “You do not know
Silence, like a cancer, grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you”
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells, of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls”
And whispered in the sounds of silence

Songwriter: Paul Simon


Stairway to Heaven

There’s a lady who’s sure
All that glitters is gold
And she’s buying a stairway to Heaven
When she gets there she knows
If the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for
Oh oh oh oh and she’s buying a stairway to Heaven
There’s a sign on the wall
But she wants to be sure
‘Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings
In a tree by the brook
There’s a songbird who sings
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiving
Ooh, it makes me wonder
Ooh, it makes me wonder
There’s a feeling I get
When I look to the west
And my spirit is crying for leaving
In my thoughts I have seen
Rings of smoke through the trees
And the voices of those who standing looking
Ooh, it makes me wonder
Ooh, it really makes me wonder
And it’s whispered that soon, If we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason
And a new day will dawn
For those who stand long
And the forests will echo with laughter
If there’s a bustle in your hedgerow
Don’t be alarmed now
It’s just a spring clean for the May queen
Yes, there are two paths you can go by
But in the long run
There’s still time to change the road you’re on
And it makes me wonder
Your head is humming and it won’t go
In case you don’t know
The piper’s calling you to join him
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow?
And did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll
And she’s buying a stairway to Heaven

Songwriters: Jimmy Page / Robert Plant