Monthly Archives: August 2013

365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Thirty-Seven

in a row.
between us.
this joke is old.

a birthday missed.
you’re not good with dates.
neither am I.
but the important ones place.

a mark upon my mind.
I try to shelter you.
what effort does it take?
a text, a smile, an I love you.

in a row.
you made it there.
this year.

and I remembered.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Thirty-Six

the ocean calls to him.
twenty years along the waves.
the wind whips a shouldered blanket.
but there is one last look to be saved.

the road calls to all.
to replace what is known.
if you don’t grow roots.
there’s no way to lose a home.

the holes call to them.
sand crabs out with the tide.
when you feel small.
more stock is put in pride.

the ocean calls to them.
an ever changing home.
always five miles from land.
so you don’t feel alone.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Thirty-Five

the trees are falling.
the cracking sound fills.
clean air stirred by a.
light breeze.

hurricanes have scared.
them all, yet the wish.
for days when this house.
was surrounded do not fade.

the chainsaw, the diesel truck.
seem wrong, sounds alien.
to natural beauty and.
another For Sale sign is across the road.

fence gone, kennel destroyed.
brown trailer and trees all.
that can be seen, a view.
long gone, though it was better.

this place has changed as all must.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Thirty-Five

the ocean weeps.
waves upon a.
melon-kissed shore.

in a moment of today.
no longer weary.
of October and what.
future brings.

release from wanting.
more than is.
to be had in.
any given life.

but not alone.
the ocean weeps.
life begins.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Thirty-Four

dead plants keep me.
been too long away.
from Baltimore, hon.
and home brings peace.
unknown in any.
satellite location.
longing will begin.
as soon as I pass.
the skyline, and.
know the Harbor no more.
the City that Bleeds and Reads.
I’ve done plenty of both.
here, while catching up on other worlds.
to erase the sting of drunken fights.
before, knowledge is power.
can never have enough.
especially as a woman.
even in these modern times.
blind me with smog.
and urban decay.
Baltimore stings.
and it’s better this way.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Thirty-Three

all I needed was this.
the way to balance.
even for those.
who like to be.
with words and the voices.
and the unclear things.
inspiration faded with.
too much time away.
the noise of the street and.
the pulse of masses.
the next big thing.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Thirty-Two

the breaks in shadow.
follow, I would express.
sore but happy, and
there is no loneliness here.
the consequences of a new day.
are not so harsh in shade.
your presence fills my vision.
the promise of a new day.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Thirty-One

it is late morning.
I feel alive again.
home is not a place.
it is an attitude.
I’ve sorely missed.
running into.
a pantheon of words.
I have not uttered.
for ninety-two long days.
the accents my salvation.
the green my release.

triangle stacked on triangle.
circle and then center.
these are the lofty ambitions.
formed by men of letters.
Poe lived in Richmond.
but we have the grave.
the spoils of debauchery.
we mourn, and we pray.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Thirty

Mikey wouldn’t calm it down.
Randy doesn’t mind the clink.
It’s blue death they desire.
wasting, a betrothal linked.

made a pass but I’m still fast.
step back, one two, it’s nothing new.
to avoid drunk-touch upon my breast.

a treasured night.
it’s home, you see.
where I find the truth of me.

365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Twenty-Nine

still awake at 4AM.
it’s been a long, long time.
since I could taste the City.
since my moments were purely mine.

the trees, they’re not all the same.
contorted by sidewalk and smog.
streetlamps make fairy-fart shadows.
orange-tinged magical laws.

I sit on the stoop, I’m a local.
an unmarked flies down Harford Road.
this is me, independant.
this is what I sold.

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