Rolling blackout poem ‘addition’

Marathon VCS Waking Up Is hard to do With images dancing in my mind Mingling into dreams I should have a coffee Or go for a walk But right after this I’m all done this run! It’s called a marathon, But it’s something else as…

Second Sight

For mysteries did hide from me As blind I was before But then reborn that I might see And faith— they then restore   Tears did drench mine eyes Baptized through my pain Yet— it’s then I could realize The strength I did contain  …

Cloak—and—Dagger

Concealed mysteries yet blatantly disclosed Entities— among us— in skins, disguised Yet holding sight, essence— itself composed Of things— we here, at best—only theorize!   Perception is vital— from whose eyes, we see As our decisions are formed by what we perceive Transformed into our…

Mississippi River

Houses make me nervous They can burn down Buildings with floors Have the possibility of collapse Bridges are unreliable London Bridge fell after all But the Mississippi River Is the one constant of my life Sitting on its banks I feel at peace When leaving,…

Homeward Bound – Hour Twenty-Four

As I cross the bridge over the river, I know I’m almost home The changing leaves, their colors bright as if to welcome me back The two lane roads, the Amish buggies, the fields that span for miles The air so crisp and clean, I’m…

2 am Walk

I hear my boots Scraping on the pavement On an empty street At 2 am I see ribbons of light Swirling around me Ghosts of the cars That went by I feel prickles On the back of my neck Caused by the person Following me…

Home #thepoetrymarathon #prompttwentyfour

The house is in need of paint, father, plaster peels off the walls. The verandah stares vacant and blank, no life within its halls. It’s just a house, I said to myself as I passed down that road, just a house, abandoned and dark that…

Night walking: Part 2 Flipside

Night Walking Part 2 (Flipside) In a rush I leave the house I don’t remember leaving Or why I was in a rush, I remember feeling too close, too trapped Needing to- the word is on the tip of my tongue I want to flee…

Shiver

I miss the way Your fingers feel on my skin How they slid over my back And down to my waist Ghosting over my shoulder And sliding down my thigh People don’t get to touch me like this Not often And the memory of it,…

Hour Twenty Three: Speak to me, my love.

  speak to me, my love. I know you are playing peek-a-boo again. to them, you are gone. to me, you are still my muse, picture-perfect like your green-colored abode.   speak to me, my love. I know you get quite the buzz to keep…

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