Monthly Archives: February 2013

365 Days of Poetry: Day Fifty-Eight

a new journey.
victory a stranger path.
than failure.

there will be few answers.
as these things go.
yet what if.
is a death sentence.


365 Days of Poetry: Day Fifty-Seven

awake.
the cold crashes in.
hibernation.
where I want to stay.

the first trial.
of winter mornings.
rising above.
frost and regret.


365 Days of Poetry: Day Fifty-Six

peace.
it’s what’s for dinner.
not profitable enough.
to stay on the table.

each player takes a slice.
that could soften their bottom line.
Stone Cold is not here to share the beer,
and cut the bullshit.

the guests are gluttons.
juices running down their faces.
as they smile at the swollen bellies.
of starving children.

their time could come.
karma could prevail.
the earth could feed her children.

but peace-
it’s what’s for dinner.


365 Days of Poetry: Day Fifty-Five

Not a new one today, because I am going through old stuff and want to share this one.

 

I watched them
with you
strong and supple gymnasts
lithe and free in their movements
as I never was.

I know I’ve been
a disappointment to you
Mother
I feel your disapproving stare
across the miles.

You wanted a lithe little girl
who danced
and ate with grace
who never complained
no steps out of place.

I won’t be your martyr
anymore
this score you want
to settle with the world
is not my battle
is not my way
is not my place.

I observe the dance
and write about it.
I observe your pain
and write about it.
I dance in the rain
and write about it.
I lose my pain
and write about it.

Through it all
I feel
your stare
because
lithe
supple
dancing
is not my talent.


365 Days of Poetry: Day Fifty-Four

beneath ceaseless skies.
the apex of strange horizons.
could be seen.

an electric velocipede.
head jerking–
right, left.

one must observe their domain.


Continents are Named

A double post tonight, because I want to share map progress. All continents are named, though the world is not. Any suggestions are welcome. I’ll figure it out tomorrow. Staring at this all day was easy enough on the eyes, but I need some time away before I mess something up.

map22213


365 Days of Poetry: Day Fifty-Three

far away, the gods.
sit on their wooded thrones and laugh.
pulling the strings,
sending their leaves,
to fall apart in our midst.

the detritus of longing.
consumes the savage and the prim.
dusting our foreheads,
spreading to hearts,
to burst them all in our bodies.

far away, my mother.
sits on her throne and laughs.
forgetting her daughter,
dissolving her brain,
to die and leave a vacant home.


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