"dazzle gradually"

"Dazzle Gradually" 2017 poems, paintings, new art & photography--a diary, a discipline, a delight. Read over my shoulder as I post my unedited poetry ---you can see it in the raw or get my first book and see how the work evolves with new books rolling out next year.

Polly Alice

Monday, August 24, 2015

KC Japan Festival Haiku Contest!

 My Tumblr Blog

It's time to enter the KC Japan Festival Haiku Contest of 2015! Last year I won third place. Here are my submissions. I had so much fun.  I take my favorite poems and condense them into haiku.  I think this is the only way to make the haiku thick enough, if you know what I mean. And I love the result. Who says you can't say something in 17 syllables.

KC samurai Spirit

I'm the cavernous
jasper blue of summer sky
the quickening blur

KC Arts

Shell colored satin
as we sit on red velvet
like tea for cold hearts

KC Blues

Gutters drip rainbows
manholes tell you everything
So sing, Sugar, Sing.

Barbecue showdown
win the hearts of those you love
a taste to call home

KC Sports

Let's paint the whole town.
Oh, I love Kansas City!
Red, white, Royal blue!

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Red Cord-- Rahab's Song

Soon the very first poem I wrote as an adult will be published. An old favorite from 1999, My poem Jacob's Song is to be published in Arc magazine in it's 24th annual edition of Israel association for Writers in English (IAWE). Yesterday I realized that many of my favorite characters in history have meant so much to me as I have wrestled with understanding their stories and their viewpoints.  Why not write another one? I thought. Why not write many? So here is another poem in the same style written from the perspective of a very famed Jewish woman from history.

This is my Jericho
and the walls are
falling down.
All these strangers

took pieces of me
for a price. Daughter
of the Sun, they called me
but I sold for a penny.

This was my Jericho
But the walls are falling
down. Now she knows
my shame, open to all.

Oh God, if you are a
strong tower, then restore me.
Build fresh bricks and mortar
around my heart.

Let them call me
Mother of a nation
Here I take this red cord
and raise it with a cry

My Deliverer. My savior.
My Banner forever.

The one who rescues me.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Orange Cinder

In July the flower stand squats empty
crates gray like the pavement
cinderblocks sigh heavily with
wooden slats loitering about--
Paint splits off the faded sign
Jeannie's Lawn and Garden Center
Even the grass pants heavily--
gone for the season.
I see a future of orange--
In a few weeks it will open
again sprouting pumpkins
lined up like teeth in
a jack-o-latern smile. Yes,
it's empty now, but out
in the tall grass, purring,
are round little babies
some the size of my fist,
some as small as a thumbnail.
They swell in the heat
after nightfall,
drink dew by the bucket
Yes, looks empty now,
only because we can't see
those far off fields, only
because we can't know
what will happen next.
You think Cinderella's
carriage was magic, the work
of a moment. But I know
that it takes twelve weeks
for a squash to grow from
one tear shaped seed
to the behemoth she
knelt crying over---
under starlight.