Hour 13 – Retirement
Retired Teacher
There once was a woman in J.T.
who gets to hike & sip iced tea.
She made her mark
retired with a spark,
now she’s a school absentee.
Hour 2 Also Late
Well strong start in catching up so far!
Hour 2
If every poem is a love poem
Then let this one be for me
Let this poem know every imperfectionÂ
Know every dip of my body
Know each crack in my soul
Know all the wishes I never speak
If every poem is a love poem
Let this one love m
Business (prompt 13)
we fight for control
the illusion of winning
fades with each dollar
Writing Lies
Lies are hated
Lies are said by many
Yet, lies help one stay sated
Once they open the pages of plenty
It sounds odd
For what pages could be happy lies?
A writer, unless killing a favorite, can’t be a liar flawed
But we make up names and laugh at the characters’ cries
We lie about trust in the midst of a betrayal
We lie about love when it’s unreal
Writers are liars through their portrayal
It’s funny, but when we first write in ink, it’s signed a liar’s deal
Hour 12 – Backward to Forward
Born a perfect soul with knowledge and vision from out of the closet comes the monsters of generational rage, institutional derision, mandatory conformity and societal musts The first decades spent conforming to laws derived by marketers, politicians, and others selling, controlling, and reforming deep inside the soul struggles Rejected for originality imprisoned by corporate rules and left lonely and sensitive to brutality apathy takes residence in the soul Finding herself, she emerges a siren of sincerity connected with the timeless voices she paves a new path of restored originality
Venture (Hour 8)
Venture into my pain if you care
Venture into my pain if you dare.
see what others see and feel as we feel
speak our words and feel them Rumble from your breath,
face the dark colors of humanity,
see the results accomplished by greed,
how malnourishly we feed,
anoint yourself in humanity,
poverty is neatly pressed.
wear the uniform of poor,
as you pedal over puddles,
accumulate pennies
gather aluminum and plastic bottles in trash bags,
ride the Metro,
see the children full of dreams streaming from their eyes,
Beautiful Smiles that Echo lifetimes
see them play and watch them grow
witness them emit that glow
that gives life to the dead hours of unfulfilled dreams that lives in you.
Water then and teach them so . . .
Stare into them, love them slow,
then, suddenly, let them go
into the Mist of gunpowder, sirens.
into that noisy silence,
for you must spend your days and hours and minutes
and your health is felt diminished
and your years have turned to minutes
only minutes you enjoy
and see glimpses of your precious
little girl or little boy
they no longer care for toys
they no longer seem to care
since you are hardly ever there
they developed other interests
they no longer have the Glow.
but you have to work and slave
to afford a lonely grave
What about the years and years of ourselves that we gave . . .
Venture in my pain if you care,
venture in my pain if you dare.
Hour 13: The art of selling jewellery
Bling bling
Oh my what a shiny little gem
for your neck, your wrist and finger
Welcome to the shop called bling bling jewellers
where I tell you “Give ’em a try”
Celebrating the colors of Memphis
901 day. Authentic street tacos paired with Dark gray clouds hovering flat across the burning sky. There’s something special about that deep blue against the orange. Green light to the right, red ahead, yellow headlights twinkle the streets of Memphis. A moment like this, painting a watercolor memory of bliss, lean over hunnie pie, give me a kiss.
Roti
And Roti always plays alone
Always at the edge of the playground
She amuses herself
Other kids stay away from her
Her involuntary body movements scare them
And even her elementary school teachers
Roti wishes they could play with her
As it is no fun to be alone
She sees them giggling and having so much fun at the playground
The fun and camaraderie she has been denied
Because she cannot control the movement of her limbs
And Roti always play alone