I’m not feeling very energetic this morning. I’ll spare you the details, but hoping to see my doctor sometime today. In the meantime, I thought this previously posted poem might suffice for my daily offering.
Peace, people.
Tag: poetry
Falling Words
I tried to write a poem, but the words fell off the page
They puddled on the floor in coils of rhymes gone wrong
And no matter how hard I tried to gather them together
They slipped through my fingers too agitated to coalesce
No scheme, no order, no reason or reflection, no arbitrary alliteration
Hell, I’m no poet. I don’t even play one on tv.
When You Rhyme in Your Sleep
Such a poor rhymer,
A nickel and dimer,
A shell without primer,
Rusting away.
Throw out the words, son
Steer away from the bad pun
Avoid the over done
This ain’t child’s play
Can’t help but dream
In a metronomic scheme
Nothing’s easy as it seems
These visions never stay.
(Michael Cheval is the artist featured in this post.)
I woke up (at 2:37 a.m) with the first stanza rolling around in my head. I told myself if it stuck around, I’d write it down. Almost wish it hadn’t.
Peace, people.
Cold Enough
Huddled under cardboard,
Old Annie shivers.
Surrounded by layers of rags and bags,
Scavenged bits hoarded against the cold,
Shoved into cracks, or
Worn as a layered mantle
No room open for her tonight
No place to warm her tired bones
They say it’s not cold enough.
Twelve degrees.
The winds howl,
Sweeping down these city streets
Stirring up ghosts of every December
Those souls who couldn’t be saved
No place to warm their bones
No room opened for them
Someone said it’s not cold enough.
Catching Autumn
Hand outstretched, waiting
One orange leaf wafting down
Crisp cascade follows
Spread wide your fine nets
Fingers splayed, arms extended
Raking the glory
Try catching autumn
Crunch and crackle, red and gold
Store Fall if you can
Gutsy Potion
Don’t be skittish, dear
Brewing potions takes some guts
Among other things
(“The Witches Brew” by Adrian Higgins)
Tongue of toad, fileted
Eyes of newt, plucked one by one
Rattle of snake, sliced
(“Witch’s Brew” by Angus McBride)
Stir in spider eggs
Black widow for best results
Simmer, chant, enjoy.
A Penny for My Thoughts?
Never in my life
Have pennies been offered
In trade for my thoughts
Should it happen now
I would most likely decline
Given inflation
Except, google says
The cost of thoughts have
Dropped to all-time lows
Little known fact, the more thoughts that are shared publicly the cheaper they become. Thoughts were 1¢ back in 1522 and reached an all time high of 79¢ in 1895. Once the patent for radio was gotten in 1896 thought value began to decline due to the growth of the newly patented invention. By the time of the first televisions, thoughts were only 54¢. After television, the value began to drop exponentially. Nowadays, with the invention of the internet, an individual thought is only worth about .000005¢.
All of these numbers are accounting for inflation.
Wild Abandon
Odd, this staid woman
Who relished wild abandon
In nature only
Her ordered life calm,
While her garden ran amok
No rows, tangled vines
From pleasure abstained
Nary a drop of spirits
Her drunken plot raved
Langston Hughes’s “Salvation”
Yesterday I published a piece called “Choosing My Religion.” My friend, Luri read it on Facebook and asked if I’d ever read “Salvation” by Langston Hughes. I hadn’t, but rectified that mistake immediately. Mr. Hughes has always been one of my favorite poets, this piece I’ve linked to just makes him more so.
http://www.spiritwatch.org/firelangsave.htm
Here are some more of my favorite pieces by Langston Hughes. His words are as timely as ever.
This first one’s my favorite:
The next one needs a fervent “amen!”
Wine Talking
Last night I imbibed
A Cabernet Sauvignon
Mellow vibes accrued
Sweet drifting on sips
This languid summer evening
Deep in these red cups
Oh, deepest vintage
Layered tastes on eager tongue
Rich flavors ensued
Praying for Eyebrowz 