Tag Archives: creative writing

Keats #2

(More) Negative Capability

My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
—Keats

My face is a mirror
And I am its gaze

My finger is a prick
And I am its tip

My lust is a mistress
And I am its boob

My rear is a bum
And I am its couch

My beard is a garden
And I am its gnome

My faith is a habit
And I am its nun

My fear is a mountain
And I am its cliff

My will is a fortune
And I am its heir

My ego is a lion
And I am its pride

My voice is a note
And I am its tone

My wit is a parent
And I am its kid

My life is a ripple
And I am its wake

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Whisper (Revised)

Above a Whisper

I walk on blades
Of grass around
My father’s grave

Avoiding sunken
Markers careful not
To wake the dead

I want to share news
About a great job
My own place to live

The love of a woman
Who finds me
Worthy of affection

But none of this
Has happened
And it’s getting late

I tell him about
Another mild
Chicago winter

And Vegas picking
The Cubs to win
The World Series

My voice breaks
Like mist
Above a whisper

As birds fly in V-formation
Over headstones
Fixed in solemn rows

***

Above a Whisper (Nervous Lethargy Version)

I walk on blades
Of grass around
My father’s grave

Avoiding sunken
Markers careful not
To wake the dead

I’d like to share news
About a great job
My own place to live

The love of a woman
Who finds me
Worthy of affection

But none of this
Has happened
And it’s getting late

I tell him about
Another mild
Chicago winter

And Vegas picking
The Cubs to win
The World Series

It sounds like I’m
Talking to myself
Above a whisper

As birds fly in V formation
Over headstones
Fixed in solemn rows

1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

Lake Arlington Larry (Revised)

Ode: Lake Arlington Larry

Here’s to a gentle man
Smiling at suburban strangers
Walking running rollerblading around
Lake Arlington on a Thursday in June

Here’s to a gentle man
With baseball cap crimson hippie hair
An earth-conscious soul and repeat recycler
Sifting through trash cans for plastic gold

Here’s to a gentle man
Drafting mental blueprints
For the New Human Reality
While mothers stretch their legs in yoga pants

Here’s to a gentle man
A stream-of-thought poet
Syncing his watch to the pulse
Of the giant timepiece in the sky

Here’s to a gentle man
Who calls himself Larry and waves
Like a child as if we met eons ago
On different paths to the same eternity

***

Ode: Lake Arlington Larry (Nervous Lethargy Version)

You smiling at suburban strangers
Walking running rollerblading around
Lake Arlington on a Thursday in June

You with baseball cap crimson hippie hair
An earth-conscious soul and repeat recycler
Sifting through trash cans for plastic gold

You the sweaty exercise guru drawing up
Mental blueprints for the New Human Reality
While mothers stretch their legs in yoga pants

You the shirtless Poet of the Moment
Syncing your wristwatch to the pulse
Of the giant timepiece in the sky

You who said today, Hi I’m Larry,
As if we’d met eons ago on
Different paths to the same eternity

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Prophet Margins

The Poet is wired
Subconsciously

artificial-synapse

Leave a comment

Filed under Philosophy, Poetry

Buy Nervous Lethargy Now

Buy my second book here.

Thank you to everyone who supports my writing. This was a fun process. Here is the Amazon product description:

“Poetry is the language of language.” So writes Charles B. Snoad in the introduction to Nervous Lethargy, a collection of poetry obsessed with the power of words. Snoad asks difficult questions about the nature of truth, the existence of God, the joys and frustrations of desire and falling in love, and the persistence of anxiety in today’s technology-driven global society. The highly sensitive, self-aware speakers in these poems take readers on an existential journey through tragedy, hope, and longing—attuned to the beauty and absurdity of modern life. That feeling when your head spins so fast you can’t get out of bed—this is Nervous Lethargy.

1 Comment

Filed under Meta-Blog, Poetry

Poet Try

Performance Anxiety

it’s hard to love
from a distance
to dot your thighs
uncross your knees

to put into words
only what a quiver
or curled toes
might say

to write without thinking
a poet sharper than me
makes you hum
at a higher frequency

c b snoad
3-27-17

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Nervous Lethargy: Assembly Stage

The writing and rewriting and rewriting again and again process is complete. There are 60 poems in Nervous Lethargy. Some date back to 2000; I wrote the latest one two days ago.

Next up: converting each Word document to the proper format I’ve devised for the whole book. Need to set up consistent font size, font style, page orientation, margin settings, page breaks, page numbers, headers, etc. Then merge all the files into one Word file and convert it to a PDF. Then upload the PDF to CreateSpace for their magical computers to check for errors and measure the extent of my madness.

The cover is done. The intro is done. The postscript is done, as is the “about the poet” page. The contents page is not done, but I have already determined the order in which the poems will appear. There are three chapters, each with 20 poems. (I’m nuts for symmetry.)

Once Amazon accepts my file (even if their computers don’t agree with my worldview) I will order a proof copy, which will arrive in my mailbox with free shipping. Thanks, Prime! Then if I’m happy with the whole thing, I’ll say “GO AHEAD, I’M READY TO BARE MY SOUL.” And Nervous Lethargy will go live and I’ll let you know it’s finally here.

 

1 Comment

Filed under Life, Meta-Blog, Poetry