MILLENNIUM NOSTALGIA: CIRCA 2122 once there was a time unmediated where black mirrors were an accident but the digital decay has heaped up all around covered by domes or just proximity with no difference between skin and an interface that world of rawness, rocks…
Category: Marathon Poem
When the Words Fizzle Out (Hour 4)
The muse wages war against my words, to rattle them, eject them, and lay them bare. The war rages on, to shoot my words into the air, enabling a scattering effect that’d make my control slip. With its full weight upon my restraints, I’ll let…
Monsoon 3022
It’s raining A hundred years from now New seeds will bear fruit, You’ll see gardens bursting with Elms, oaks, pine Rivers in full spate, rushing by,; Glens awash in roses, chrysanthemums, Jasmine, Our dreams of greened acres All the things we yearn for today, but…
#4- Broken Music
The rusty old piano sits there Years of disuse Centuries of neglect
Voice in the Silence
Steady and quiet, only you can hear its call and recognize the tone, the cry, the cadence and timbre rising from within, wanting to be heard, fighting to not be ignored or pushed down. Sometimes it soothes, at times it warns, but it is always…
Hour Four – The Crystal Set
The Crystal Set “You want a try?” my brother says lifting the headphones from his own ears and placing them on mine At first, I hear nothing but my brother scratches the wire across the crystal and the sound of stringed instruments fills my head…
The Old Piano Man – Hour Four
Across the room, a relic stands It has many a year The tunes of generations’ bands Heard by many an ear Played by a man, up in his time He’s seen and heard it all Requests are grand, critiques are few From open to last…
Marathon Poem #2
I search for the tip of your tail to circle around my bed. I listen for your high-pitched chirp as you nestle against my head. I glide my hands along your silken tabby fur as you sputter and purr and gently knead your claws on…
Prompt Four – The Football
Hour Four – Write a poem set a hundred years ago, or a hundred years from now. The Wooden Football The boys played ball, that’s what I’ve heard They kicked it around whenever they could Boots caked in mud, and sometimes blood The football…
“The Death Of Music”
Can you hear that? oh la’… oh la’… As the piano key speaks. Can you hear that? Oh la’… oh la’… As the melody creak. All were from the narrow road, Now haunted, Not wanted. Can you hear that? The eerie sound as I speak,…