Parting ways
Never learned the art
of saying goodbye
so you just sat watching
trying not to whine
as your friends leave
one after another,
giving their reasons (
it's late
I've got work tomorrow,
I've got another date
with another group
of friends. Baby's waiting
for me
) and not liking any
of it; reluctantly,
you accept
that it's okay
sad smile
see you next time
when
if
and smile at your shared vision
of another gathering
everyone means to make true
if time allows; still
in the moment,
when
gently interupted
by a waiter asking
if you would like
another cup of tea,
you realise, you
really
must be going too.
***
This poem was in part provoked by Sxethang's photo "Plenty of Seats".
Submitted for Thursday Poets Rally Week 47.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Fragment or fractured?
Recalling a shade
Kicked a rusty paint can
while walking
through a shortcut:
it rolled
sideways
clattering down
the path,
meandered
down to the grassy patch
where our house once stood;
nothing is left except for
a pile of wooden legs
from a broken chair
and a scattering of dull
emerald shards from
a window pane.
Apple white --
that's his favorite color;
it doesn't work
for the walls,
gives the walls
the light shade of
green apples,
the kind that makes
your teeth ache
with its citric juices.
I've forgotten why
my dad liked
apples (and apple-
white)
so much. I kicked it
again and it broke,
showering little
rusty pieces all
over my shoe;
there'll be a road going
through this place next year,
no one will remember
there was a house here.
(Idea for this piece from HVP's photo "Real Life Grunge")
Kicked a rusty paint can
while walking
through a shortcut:
it rolled
sideways
clattering down
the path,
meandered
down to the grassy patch
where our house once stood;
nothing is left except for
a pile of wooden legs
from a broken chair
and a scattering of dull
emerald shards from
a window pane.
Apple white --
that's his favorite color;
it doesn't work
for the walls,
gives the walls
the light shade of
green apples,
the kind that makes
your teeth ache
with its citric juices.
I've forgotten why
my dad liked
apples (and apple-
white)
so much. I kicked it
again and it broke,
showering little
rusty pieces all
over my shoe;
there'll be a road going
through this place next year,
no one will remember
there was a house here.
(Idea for this piece from HVP's photo "Real Life Grunge")
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Childhood memories of playing with sand
Sand Kingdom
Coarse sand on our play
pretend beach, little
grains that
fall in heavy clumps
through our soft fingers,
we scooped them up
with sun-yellow spades
and packed them into
pails of danger red;
we worked, sweat
on our backs and necks,
digging, molding walls,
bases and towers
under the monkey bars
and swings; over
and over, we packed
and overturned mounds
to build fortresses
and castles;
but as you were stabbing
murder holes with a twig,
an entire tower collapsed.
“Make it again!”
and I did; another wall
crumpled under the sun.
It's all falling apart
but we didn't stop, we
kept at it until the sun left
pink and orange ribbons
on the horizon, until
our mother hollered for us
from the window above
our crumpling kingdom
“come home now!”
Idea for this came out of HVP's photo "Colors of Summer"
Submitted for Thursday Poets Rally Week 46.
Coarse sand on our play
pretend beach, little
grains that
fall in heavy clumps
through our soft fingers,
we scooped them up
with sun-yellow spades
and packed them into
pails of danger red;
we worked, sweat
on our backs and necks,
digging, molding walls,
bases and towers
under the monkey bars
and swings; over
and over, we packed
and overturned mounds
to build fortresses
and castles;
but as you were stabbing
murder holes with a twig,
an entire tower collapsed.
“Make it again!”
and I did; another wall
crumpled under the sun.
It's all falling apart
but we didn't stop, we
kept at it until the sun left
pink and orange ribbons
on the horizon, until
our mother hollered for us
from the window above
our crumpling kingdom
“come home now!”
Idea for this came out of HVP's photo "Colors of Summer"
Submitted for Thursday Poets Rally Week 46.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Wrecks
Lookout
Piles of broken
bricks and metal
beams, smokey
remnants of a dead
fire, rusted
pieces sticking
out pleading for
one more chance
to be useful; one
ash-white dove
perched atop
a twisted
fire escape ladder
watches the skies
for hawks.
Inspired by Sxethang's photo "Upstairs Lookout".
Piles of broken
bricks and metal
beams, smokey
remnants of a dead
fire, rusted
pieces sticking
out pleading for
one more chance
to be useful; one
ash-white dove
perched atop
a twisted
fire escape ladder
watches the skies
for hawks.
Inspired by Sxethang's photo "Upstairs Lookout".
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
House reptile
Gecko
spotted
naked on the wall;
I take it you've
caught the flies
last night; devoured
them blue and green
whole shell, wings
and all; no
thanks for the mess.
tsk tsk tsk
spotted
naked on the wall;
I take it you've
caught the flies
last night; devoured
them blue and green
whole shell, wings
and all; no
thanks for the mess.
tsk tsk tsk
Monday, June 13, 2011
Hive
Hive mentality
We are a hive; we live
in tall crowded towers
with many other
worker bees
serving a queen
we call Necessities.
We move in swarms
every morning to work,
every evening to shops
for supplies, then home
to rest, recharge
for the labors to come.
We do not question
life: we slave
for the good of the hive.
This is my contribution for Poetry Potluck Monday at Jingle Poetry.
edit1: changed the poem.
We are a hive; we live
in tall crowded towers
with many other
worker bees
serving a queen
we call Necessities.
We move in swarms
every morning to work,
every evening to shops
for supplies, then home
to rest, recharge
for the labors to come.
We do not question
life: we slave
for the good of the hive.
This is my contribution for Poetry Potluck Monday at Jingle Poetry.
edit1: changed the poem.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Where did it go?
Bee/wasp
It's a bee in my room
or was it a wasp?
I'm confused,
you all look the same,
all i see is the yellow
and black lines
of yellow and black
yellow black yellow
and black lines;
buzzing machine
blades beating against
the florescent light,
now, where did you go?
(I did in fact spend quite a while looking for that bee/wasp that was in my room, overturning pillows and blankets, beating the shirts that were hung by the door. I did open the windows, but I had to be sure it wasn't still hiding somewhere. It looked dangerous. Probably was a wasp.)
It's a bee in my room
or was it a wasp?
I'm confused,
you all look the same,
all i see is the yellow
and black lines
of yellow and black
yellow black yellow
and black lines;
buzzing machine
blades beating against
the florescent light,
now, where did you go?
(I did in fact spend quite a while looking for that bee/wasp that was in my room, overturning pillows and blankets, beating the shirts that were hung by the door. I did open the windows, but I had to be sure it wasn't still hiding somewhere. It looked dangerous. Probably was a wasp.)
Friday, June 10, 2011
a bad apple
why can't we discard a bad friend
like we discard a bad apple --
(into the garbage
with the bad eggs and bad ham
instead of making excuses
: it's still red
: it's still sweet
: it still has a good side)
holes, entrances to a twisted
maze tunneling to the core;
a worm rears its pink head
mocking us when we try to be polite,
then burrows back into the flesh
and spits out the seeds.
like we discard a bad apple --
(into the garbage
with the bad eggs and bad ham
instead of making excuses
: it's still red
: it's still sweet
: it still has a good side)
holes, entrances to a twisted
maze tunneling to the core;
a worm rears its pink head
mocking us when we try to be polite,
then burrows back into the flesh
and spits out the seeds.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Why life, although similiar, is not as fun as puzzle games.
Settled Pools of Rainwater Swirling with Rainbows
Present to me a puzzle layout made of mud
and water, how to get from here to home,
before the dark clouds gather --
a step
this way, a zag that
way, one step
to the right,
an inch to the
left; yet despite tactics
and care, I nearly slipped
on the edge
of a clear one over there --
but fortune blessed--
I stopped myself
after an awkward dance,
posing for a moment
like an odd palm. Frozen
in this lesson. I've learnt.
Lightly on a leaf.
Surely on a rocky bit.
Thought I finally had it down
until that last step – one more
step
to the tarmac.
Toe and all into the mire,
muck up to the laces,
pants half ruined,
splattered silt everywhere;
this is where I should
give up, reload
to get all my stars
but there's no going back,
no undo, no restart.
(Inspired by HVP's photo "Reflections")
KNHFSD8SY5DU
Present to me a puzzle layout made of mud
and water, how to get from here to home,
before the dark clouds gather --
a step
this way, a zag that
way, one step
to the right,
an inch to the
left; yet despite tactics
and care, I nearly slipped
on the edge
of a clear one over there --
but fortune blessed--
I stopped myself
after an awkward dance,
posing for a moment
like an odd palm. Frozen
in this lesson. I've learnt.
Lightly on a leaf.
Surely on a rocky bit.
Thought I finally had it down
until that last step – one more
step
to the tarmac.
Toe and all into the mire,
muck up to the laces,
pants half ruined,
splattered silt everywhere;
this is where I should
give up, reload
to get all my stars
but there's no going back,
no undo, no restart.
(Inspired by HVP's photo "Reflections")
KNHFSD8SY5DU
As if my name doesn't sound emo enough...
Someone mentioned that me and someone else seem to like black for our blogs. To be honest, that black scheme was a tad bit too dark. So maybe this is a little less gloomy.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Typical...
Forgot to eat
until hunger pulled me
from my sleep
went down to the bakery
hoping to hook
a donut or two
all I got was holes
forgot it was tuesday
they're closed
(Inspired by Sxethang's photo "Disappointment")
until hunger pulled me
from my sleep
went down to the bakery
hoping to hook
a donut or two
all I got was holes
forgot it was tuesday
they're closed
(Inspired by Sxethang's photo "Disappointment")
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Upon seeing fallen leaves
so much dead leaves fallen
after a storm
dear tree, is this why
you reach your arms
skyward
dare the thundering clouds
shake against the razor winds
risk your self being struck
and split
down the middle
by Zeus' bright spear
after an assault
by the hammering rain
the sun crowns you
victorious
and you are dressed
in bright verdant scales,
and at your feet
a halo of gold
from yellow and brown.
after a storm
dear tree, is this why
you reach your arms
skyward
dare the thundering clouds
shake against the razor winds
risk your self being struck
and split
down the middle
by Zeus' bright spear
after an assault
by the hammering rain
the sun crowns you
victorious
and you are dressed
in bright verdant scales,
and at your feet
a halo of gold
from yellow and brown.
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