A Poetry Portal: http://www.theportlandalliance.org/poetry/nicoletaylor/

Nicole Taylor

Nicole's Blog: http://www.apoetessanthology.blogspot.com


Analogies

Made into a DanceAbility, dance, Chemeketa Community College, Spring 2008.

 

(Inada Workshop Scholarship Winner)

 

The Twister game as travel plans, reaching out.

 

A tether ball game as returning to

          this little city, tethering out.

Tall firs, cedars across the parking lot in

          a solo dance.

The utility wires at the edge of the

          parking lot in a solo dance.

          (My dance teacher Maxine asked

          us to work on a solo dance.)

There’s also ~

The noisy crows on a wire as

          crying, noisy children.

Resting blackbirds waiting on a

          wire for a prom.

Dodgeball or popping corn against

          neighboring walls or doors.

Cracking, unlocking sounds of my

          arthritic shoulder.

An emotional see-saw life.

A speedy merry-go-round life. Jump in!

 


 

The Food Stamp Orientation

 

I arrive on time at 1:15p.m. in the Silver Falls Room.

 

We are given a few instructions.

You will receive several papers. Be prepared.

Your name will be called up to 3 times. Be aware.

 

“I gotta buy gum,” says the lady next to me

as she writes her hand a note.

Sneeze. Sneeze.

“Bless you” says the guy across the room

but not the lover next to her.

 

One guy reminds me of a friend of a friend,

a Beat poetry lover/ fan. This guy here talks

politics, foreign made products and gas alternatives.

 

I examine posters.

Quality. Attitude. Vision, in frames with captions.

 

One guy across the room steals several

Ultra Round Stic Bic pens. So do I.

Another guy says “I have about 50 of those.”

 

No One Deserves to Be Hurt, in 8 languages.

Say No to Violence. Say Yes to Safety, in English and Spanish.

Register to Vote, in English.

 

My name is inquired.

 

Soon there are two left. “The last of the Mohicans,” the Beat man says.

 

I forgot to sign in.

I am seen by a case-worker.

I leave about 15 minutes later, about 2:45.

 


 

Her Oath and Her Name

She wears

Tabu.

 

She buys flowers, red roses

too.

 

Her perfume says

prohibited,

 

but her actions say

uninhibited,

 

a toss of the long

hair

 

with such great

flair.

 

Her passions are

romantic.

 

Her methods are

eccentric.

 

At your picture, she

stares.

 

To the sideline, she

leers.

 


 

I am not

Winner in the Chemeketa Courier VISIONS,

Spring 2005?

Read by Ruth during Soapbox Poetry on campus,

Picked by her and others for Yes Anthology

I am not

the middle aged guys

sitting in this coffee shop

playing chess.

I am

playing games

with words.

I am not

the lady flipping off

the bus driver

reminding her of rules.

I am

the lady ignoring her

and putting my feet up

on a nearby seat.

I am not

the older guy reading

a Robin Cook mystery.

I am

reading ZYZZYVA,

the last word for west coast

writers and artists.

I am

not the young guy

sitting across from me

talking about his addictions.

I am

the lady sitting

writing,

seeing a poem.

 


 

jigsaw pieces

Jigsaw pieces

in a box.

Sausages (pigs)

in a blanket.

Chicken pieces

in a burger.

Three ladies

in a café

at lunch.

Puzzles, conundrums,

wrapped in conversation,

wrapped in a meal.

 


 

 

The Stress And The Noise

Published in the Chemeketa Courier VISIONS, 

Arts Supplement

Spring 2004

 

I turned up

the radio to

shut out

the stress and the noise.

The phone rang.

“Where is the I turned up

the radio to

shut out

the stress and the noise.

The phone rang.

“Where is the telephone?”

I turned up

the radio to

shut out

the stress and the noise.

A neighbor’s door slammed.

“Why now?”

I turned up

the radio to

shut out

the stress and the noise.

A knock came.

“Who can that be?”

I turned up

the radio to

shut out

the stress and the noise.

Footsteps ran upstairs.

“Why can’t you be quieter?”

 

This poem reminded my teacher of a

similar Walt Whitman poem.

I attended two short experimental classes.

I really enjoyed his new class on Beat writers.

 

 

Biographical sketch... by Nicole...

~~Nicole currently has many hopeful projects, a variety of styles and a wide variety of subjects and poems in waiting from great journals.
She lives in Eugene, attends a poetry critique group and literary guild events there. She hopes for more chapbooks and a nicely bound
poetry book soon. Nicole and her friend tried to keep an artist and poet's group alive at our community college, Poetry By Candlelight by
the Artists Alliance club over ten years ago. In April 2004, she won an Honorable Mention for a haiku and a second place for a rhyming
poem in a book-store contest in Salem, Oregon. One poem was performed in dance and in spring 2007, she was published in Yes Poetry,
by the Silverton Poetry Association.  She has been accepted at A Handful of Stones - a short nature poem, A Word with You Press - cafe
poems, 4 and 20 Journal - another short nature poem, Abraham Lincoln Magazine, Arabian Horse World, Asphodel Madness, Boneshaker:
A Bicycling Almanac, Camel Saloon, Cirque Journal, Elephant Journal - a yoga poem, Hyperlexia - about autistic artistic friends in an
online journal of autistics, Journal Just Another Art Movement - New Zealand, Ken Again, Kerouacs Dog, Oregon Vagabond Newspaper,
Outward Link - three peaceful social poems, Nefarious Ballerina, Pemmican Press, Pigeon Bike, Red Fez - Canada, The Scrambler,
Visual Organisms, and other journals online and in print. Nicole Taylor has been published and winning locally.

She is a hiker, a former artist and a former volunteer and a dancer, formerly in DanceAbility with physically disabled friends but Nicole
is not physically disabled. She blogs at http:/www.apoetessanthology.blogspot.com/ and http://www.facebook.com/Pushk1n and you
can email her at ntaylortoo@comcast.net.


 

 

Please note:  All of the above©Nicole Taylor 2011, all rights reserved. 


 

 

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