Thursday, December 23, 2010
NOAH
the rain came
thick in tucumcari – it
tried its wet best to
drown both my goats one
stood
atop the
other – smashed her
bony back down in the
muddy flood – the bottom
goat bobbled her frail
back gave way her head
dipped quick below
the surface -- we rescued
the two to the laundryroom –
where both promptly peed
on the floor – the
perfume of ammonia
seeped deep beneath
linoleum as they
pawed hooves all over
white walls – bit a big
hole in the flimsy tin
dryer hose.
-Ryn Gargulinski.12.23.10
thick in tucumcari – it
tried its wet best to
drown both my goats one
stood
atop the
other – smashed her
bony back down in the
muddy flood – the bottom
goat bobbled her frail
back gave way her head
dipped quick below
the surface -- we rescued
the two to the laundryroom –
where both promptly peed
on the floor – the
perfume of ammonia
seeped deep beneath
linoleum as they
pawed hooves all over
white walls – bit a big
hole in the flimsy tin
dryer hose.
-Ryn Gargulinski.12.23.10
Thursday, December 16, 2010
SKATING A GLACIER
when I write I
tend to skate the
surface – I tell you
a story I even make
it fancy give you
axels, double-axels,
plié – but I fear to
scrape beneath the
glacier – it’s been
years in formation to
freeze out emotion who
knows what doth really
lurk beneath – if I poke
at such a carcass it may
unleash thick maggots or
perhaps it’s more like a
cocoon – where inside
dwells a
butterfly.
-Ryn Gargulinski.12.16.10
tend to skate the
surface – I tell you
a story I even make
it fancy give you
axels, double-axels,
plié – but I fear to
scrape beneath the
glacier – it’s been
years in formation to
freeze out emotion who
knows what doth really
lurk beneath – if I poke
at such a carcass it may
unleash thick maggots or
perhaps it’s more like a
cocoon – where inside
dwells a
butterfly.
-Ryn Gargulinski.12.16.10
Labels:
cool poems,
creepy poetry,
emotional mess,
poems,
poetry,
poetry ryn gargulinski,
ryn poems
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Sunday, December 05, 2010
ODE TO ALL THE ARTISTS
You will not –
hold me
down, mr.
man will not
shave off my eyebrows or
yank out my teeth or rip lashes
from my lids or chop limbs at my
knees you will not – you
cannot –
reduce me.
You cannot --
quash
my flame, mr.
man cannot piss
on my bonfire hurl
water on my torch snuff the
innate hot blaze that long makes
my skin scorch cannot hush that
spicy sizzle
in my soul – that
consumes me with
the need to
create.
-Ryn Gargulinski.12.05.10
hold me
down, mr.
man will not
shave off my eyebrows or
yank out my teeth or rip lashes
from my lids or chop limbs at my
knees you will not – you
cannot –
reduce me.
You cannot --
quash
my flame, mr.
man cannot piss
on my bonfire hurl
water on my torch snuff the
innate hot blaze that long makes
my skin scorch cannot hush that
spicy sizzle
in my soul – that
consumes me with
the need to
create.
-Ryn Gargulinski.12.05.10
Labels:
ode to artists,
poetry,
rynski poetry,
tucson poetry,
tucson poets
Sunday, October 31, 2010
INSECT CHINESE WATER TORTURE
bugs are
smarter than
we think they know
exactly where
our eardrum is just as
we fall asleep they know
to bite the crappy
itchy spots behind our
back and knees they
know to fly through the
one single wound that
gapes in the bent-up and
dog-injured screen they know to
land so promptly at dinner atop –
a mound of pure white
cottage cheese.
-Ryn Gargulinski.10.31.10
smarter than
we think they know
exactly where
our eardrum is just as
we fall asleep they know
to bite the crappy
itchy spots behind our
back and knees they
know to fly through the
one single wound that
gapes in the bent-up and
dog-injured screen they know to
land so promptly at dinner atop –
a mound of pure white
cottage cheese.
-Ryn Gargulinski.10.31.10
Labels:
bugs,
insects,
poem ryn gargulinski,
poetry,
poetry ryn gargulinski
Saturday, August 07, 2010
NOSES
deviated
septum turned
up like a ski slope
punched flat on a boxer
too big for your glasses too
small for your face there is so
much – that can go wrong – with
noses.
-Ryn Gargulinski.2010
see more ryn poetry at ryngargulinski.com
septum turned
up like a ski slope
punched flat on a boxer
too big for your glasses too
small for your face there is so
much – that can go wrong – with
noses.
-Ryn Gargulinski.2010
see more ryn poetry at ryngargulinski.com
Labels:
nose poetry,
noses,
ryn gargulinski poetry,
rynski poetry
PAYCHECK
I am a bug
on my back that
struggles to flip a
scarab in a sand dune that
june bug on my porch – I struggle
and wiggle to make ends meet – yet
my legs still wave fruitless in the air – when
I am finally able to flip myself upright and
breathe for a moment a fresh gasp of air –
a dog paw squarely blasts me down flat.
-Ryn Gargulinski.2010
see more ryn poetry at ryngargulinski.com
on my back that
struggles to flip a
scarab in a sand dune that
june bug on my porch – I struggle
and wiggle to make ends meet – yet
my legs still wave fruitless in the air – when
I am finally able to flip myself upright and
breathe for a moment a fresh gasp of air –
a dog paw squarely blasts me down flat.
-Ryn Gargulinski.2010
see more ryn poetry at ryngargulinski.com
GHOULS
we wondered if
the child knew he
looked like a ghoul as he
sat on the bleachers at
pinnacle peak while a wild
west with slapstick thrilled the
audience – with gunshots and
a barrel that leaked. we learned
later the kid was with a
whole ghoulish trope who
dropped by in a hearse to
sell their parties – (yet) that
did not stop the
audience from
staring – or whispered
titters pointed fingers at the
child – glaring flashbacks of
me in first grade.
-ryngargulinski.2010
the child knew he
looked like a ghoul as he
sat on the bleachers at
pinnacle peak while a wild
west with slapstick thrilled the
audience – with gunshots and
a barrel that leaked. we learned
later the kid was with a
whole ghoulish trope who
dropped by in a hearse to
sell their parties – (yet) that
did not stop the
audience from
staring – or whispered
titters pointed fingers at the
child – glaring flashbacks of
me in first grade.
-ryngargulinski.2010
Labels:
creepy poetry,
ghoul poetry,
ryn poetry,
ryngargulinski,
rynski
Saturday, July 03, 2010
FLUFF
by Ryn Gargulinski
fluff
can be
cushy sweet
plushy cute like
something
you
pack
in your
pillow that –
soft stuff
that cradles
your head but –
fluff
can be
nasty
harsh
abrasive
gruff as the
term used to
criticize your writing or –
the curt cold so
loathsome response when
you open up and
disclose your
dreams.
fluff
can be
cushy sweet
plushy cute like
something
you
pack
in your
pillow that –
soft stuff
that cradles
your head but –
fluff
can be
nasty
harsh
abrasive
gruff as the
term used to
criticize your writing or –
the curt cold so
loathsome response when
you open up and
disclose your
dreams.
FLUFF
by Andrew Ulanowski
My cat Rosie
is so skinny
and frail
that I am
quite sure
she is made from
fluff
and
popsicle sticks.
My cat Rosie
is so skinny
and frail
that I am
quite sure
she is made from
fluff
and
popsicle sticks.
Labels:
andrew ulanowski poetry,
cat poem,
cat poetry,
cat rosie,
fluff poem,
fluffy poem
Lazlo the lizard dance
See more photos, art and Ryn writing at ryngargulinski.com and tucsoncitizen.com/rynski
Labels:
animal photos,
lazlo photo,
lazlo the lizard,
lizard photo,
skink
BETRAYAL POEMS: BETRAYAL and LET DOWN
BETRAYAL
by Ryn Gargulinski
they may have thought
we would take them on a
bicycle ride a trek to the
circus a zip to the zoo but instead
we put them in an ice cube tray – each
bald baby mouse in its own
little cube – each parent, dismayed where
their babies went – atop lean cuisine
pizza beside smashed frozen peas – the
next morning we pulled
out the ice cube tray – found several cubes
empty as a number had crawled – to a lumpy
pinkie clump in one cube – a huddle that had hoped to
stay warm – one frozen mid-crawl on
the lip – his paw grasping at the
the cold freezer
sky.
Poem in honor of pinkies we wrenched away from pet mice to feed lizard Lazlo
___
LET DOWN
by Andrew Ulanowski
Betrayal is having
the person
you have fallen
in love with
ask you to review
their ad on Match.com
by Ryn Gargulinski
they may have thought
we would take them on a
bicycle ride a trek to the
circus a zip to the zoo but instead
we put them in an ice cube tray – each
bald baby mouse in its own
little cube – each parent, dismayed where
their babies went – atop lean cuisine
pizza beside smashed frozen peas – the
next morning we pulled
out the ice cube tray – found several cubes
empty as a number had crawled – to a lumpy
pinkie clump in one cube – a huddle that had hoped to
stay warm – one frozen mid-crawl on
the lip – his paw grasping at the
the cold freezer
sky.
Poem in honor of pinkies we wrenched away from pet mice to feed lizard Lazlo
___
LET DOWN
by Andrew Ulanowski
Betrayal is having
the person
you have fallen
in love with
ask you to review
their ad on Match.com
TWO SHOE POEMS: MINOR and SHOES
MINOR
by Ryn Gargulinski
we remember
things that hurt like
our first broken heart long
lost pets who up
and died the
friend who gave a
gift and then
took it right back – she would
rather gift the gift now to
Shannon, she
said – the chipped
tooth on the
water pump the
Hubba Bubba in
the hair – the
snowball
in the back at the
bus stop – that hurt
less than its
derisions and
snarls -- or the size
four antique
buckle shoes – I
crammed on my
teen feet’s
size eight.
____
SHOES
by Andrew Ulanowski
Shoes, shoes, the musical fruit
They kill my feet but they’re SO CUTE!
I’m supposed to be writing this STUPID poem about shoes,
but, I’ve decided that I’m going to protest the fact that
while shoes come in many assortments of
size, color, material, style, etc.
Seems someone forgot a very important category indeed . . .
flavor!
With that said, I vow from now on only to wear banana leaves
on my feet, held on by some string or perhaps some old bungie chord,
shunning shoe-dom until justice (and tasty shoes) have been served.
by Ryn Gargulinski
we remember
things that hurt like
our first broken heart long
lost pets who up
and died the
friend who gave a
gift and then
took it right back – she would
rather gift the gift now to
Shannon, she
said – the chipped
tooth on the
water pump the
Hubba Bubba in
the hair – the
snowball
in the back at the
bus stop – that hurt
less than its
derisions and
snarls -- or the size
four antique
buckle shoes – I
crammed on my
teen feet’s
size eight.
____
SHOES
by Andrew Ulanowski
Shoes, shoes, the musical fruit
They kill my feet but they’re SO CUTE!
I’m supposed to be writing this STUPID poem about shoes,
but, I’ve decided that I’m going to protest the fact that
while shoes come in many assortments of
size, color, material, style, etc.
Seems someone forgot a very important category indeed . . .
flavor!
With that said, I vow from now on only to wear banana leaves
on my feet, held on by some string or perhaps some old bungie chord,
shunning shoe-dom until justice (and tasty shoes) have been served.
Labels:
cool poetry,
dark poetry,
poem ryn gargulinski
Saturday, May 01, 2010
HAIKU: ONE DAY
one day everyone
will wake up happy and they
won’t know what to do.
-Ryn Gargulinski.05.01.10
Illustration from Ryn Gargulinski's book BONY YOGA
will wake up happy and they
won’t know what to do.
-Ryn Gargulinski.05.01.10
Illustration from Ryn Gargulinski's book BONY YOGA
Sunday, April 18, 2010
MISTAKEN IDENTITY
hummingbird hatchlings are the
size of a bumblebee what this
could mean is beginning to
trouble me – how many are
smashed in a mean, panicked
streak by folks who see a
stinger that is really just a
beak.
-Ryn Gargulinski.04.18.10
size of a bumblebee what this
could mean is beginning to
trouble me – how many are
smashed in a mean, panicked
streak by folks who see a
stinger that is really just a
beak.
-Ryn Gargulinski.04.18.10
Friday, April 09, 2010
DEADLY SINS
A poem in seven parts
i
wrath will
always fascinate me it’s so
easy to feed just
start with a seed then
watch it sprout fester and
bloom until you
blow up an orphanage
ii
lust brings skank
prostitutes to mind – and
itchy red bumps to your
crotch
iii
gluttony the void
that can never be
sated I found 22
packets of nuts when i
cleaned out my
desk
iv
greed makes me
think of daffy
duck when he
finds mounds of
treasure then gets
trapped in the cave to
starve
rot and
otherwise
die – surrounded
by diamonds
v
sloth has
two toes but
no motivation he’s the
reason we have dents in
our couch and that thing
called TV
vi
pride pumps
our heads like
balloons – that get
popped with a prick
from reality
vii
fear dances in our
bladders twists
knots in our
stomachs is the
glob that
gives rise to the
other six sins.
-Ryn Gargulinski.04.09.10
i
wrath will
always fascinate me it’s so
easy to feed just
start with a seed then
watch it sprout fester and
bloom until you
blow up an orphanage
ii
lust brings skank
prostitutes to mind – and
itchy red bumps to your
crotch
iii
gluttony the void
that can never be
sated I found 22
packets of nuts when i
cleaned out my
desk
iv
greed makes me
think of daffy
duck when he
finds mounds of
treasure then gets
trapped in the cave to
starve
rot and
otherwise
die – surrounded
by diamonds
v
sloth has
two toes but
no motivation he’s the
reason we have dents in
our couch and that thing
called TV
vi
pride pumps
our heads like
balloons – that get
popped with a prick
from reality
vii
fear dances in our
bladders twists
knots in our
stomachs is the
glob that
gives rise to the
other six sins.
-Ryn Gargulinski.04.09.10
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
DEATH IN THE GRAND CANYON
By Ryn Gargulinski
this one was frozen in a gully
this one had tumbled from the
brink – that one was found
near his water face down as
some voices told him not to drink
this one was swept in a
flash flood – this one was
blanched by the sun – that one
went far in his very fast car that
had sped to its very last run
this one was drowned in the
river – this one was crushed
by big stones -- that one don’t
know how he happened to go
all that’s left is a pile of bones
this one was posing for a
photo – this one veered way
off his course -- and that
one was shoved by a
husband out of love as it’s
cheaper than
getting a
divorce.
See more Ryn writing and art at RynRules.com and Rynski.Etsy.com.
Check out her blogs at TucsonCitizen.com
this one was frozen in a gully
this one had tumbled from the
brink – that one was found
near his water face down as
some voices told him not to drink
this one was swept in a
flash flood – this one was
blanched by the sun – that one
went far in his very fast car that
had sped to its very last run
this one was drowned in the
river – this one was crushed
by big stones -- that one don’t
know how he happened to go
all that’s left is a pile of bones
this one was posing for a
photo – this one veered way
off his course -- and that
one was shoved by a
husband out of love as it’s
cheaper than
getting a
divorce.
See more Ryn writing and art at RynRules.com and Rynski.Etsy.com.
Check out her blogs at TucsonCitizen.com
Muerte en el Gran Cañón
By Andrew Ulanowski
I’ve sometimes wondered
how long you would fall
if you were to fall
into the Grand Canyon . . .
I suppose you could use some measurement,
some formula that has you hurtling through the air
at ‘X’ miles per hour until you hit ‘terminal velocity’,
or the canyon floor.
Fitting phrase that, ‘terminal velocity’ . . .
I wonder how long it takes
for you to mess your pants up
on the way down.
I bet Wiley Coyote knows.
How humiliating it would be
to get beaten to death
by your backpack filled
with life-sustaining water
and granola bars
just before you make your mark in the world.
Read more Ulanowski poetry under his pen name Raul Aqua at Scribd.com/Raul Aqua
Submit poems of your own at Scribd.com.
I’ve sometimes wondered
how long you would fall
if you were to fall
into the Grand Canyon . . .
I suppose you could use some measurement,
some formula that has you hurtling through the air
at ‘X’ miles per hour until you hit ‘terminal velocity’,
or the canyon floor.
Fitting phrase that, ‘terminal velocity’ . . .
I wonder how long it takes
for you to mess your pants up
on the way down.
I bet Wiley Coyote knows.
How humiliating it would be
to get beaten to death
by your backpack filled
with life-sustaining water
and granola bars
just before you make your mark in the world.
Read more Ulanowski poetry under his pen name Raul Aqua at Scribd.com/Raul Aqua
Submit poems of your own at Scribd.com.
Labels:
andrew ulanowski poetry,
dead people,
death poem,
fall,
grand canyon poem,
injury poem,
poem
Saturday, January 09, 2010
THE FAVOR
alcohol kills
slowly my mom
watched it in her
neighbor who lived
well into her 50s until
body parts shut down – a
fresh teen in her yearbook wrote a
sad dark ode to hangovers was
hooked on drugs by 25 then
murdered by a john – as
sick as it was it was
quick – and maybe
he did her a
favor.
-Ryn Gargulinski.01.2010
See more Ryn writing and art at RynRules.com and Rynski.Etsy.com.
Check out her blogs at TucsonCitizen.com
slowly my mom
watched it in her
neighbor who lived
well into her 50s until
body parts shut down – a
fresh teen in her yearbook wrote a
sad dark ode to hangovers was
hooked on drugs by 25 then
murdered by a john – as
sick as it was it was
quick – and maybe
he did her a
favor.
-Ryn Gargulinski.01.2010
See more Ryn writing and art at RynRules.com and Rynski.Etsy.com.
Check out her blogs at TucsonCitizen.com
NEGATIVE NELLIE
sometimes I hear his
negative voice march
mantras through the
tunnels in my head – the
coffee’s not
strong enough the dog
leash not
long enough the
TV’s too
little the cheese
grater sucks – like
goldilocks rarely
satisfied – I’m sad as
that used to be
me.
-Ryn Gargulinski.01.2010
See more Ryn writing and art at RynRules.com and Rynski.Etsy.com.
Check out her blogs at TucsonCitizen.com
negative voice march
mantras through the
tunnels in my head – the
coffee’s not
strong enough the dog
leash not
long enough the
TV’s too
little the cheese
grater sucks – like
goldilocks rarely
satisfied – I’m sad as
that used to be
me.
-Ryn Gargulinski.01.2010
See more Ryn writing and art at RynRules.com and Rynski.Etsy.com.
Check out her blogs at TucsonCitizen.com
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