Love Is Not Love
love is not love
when it demands reciprocation
begs or bribes
love is not love
when it manipulates
demands or commands
love is freely given
with hope but not expectations
a heart laid bare for plunder
Good Morning Poem
In this morning new,
I seek to find my power,
Through Universal perfection.
Open my eyes so I can see ~
That my life is joyous and complete~
Fill my body with strength and ease, with all the powers that be.
For this beautiful morning I see,
It matters not if there is sun or rain,
The universe fills me with blessings that remain ~
That sets my spirit free…
C. Burgess (c)
Skye Missive
There’s never been a worse time than too late
Ever after nothing matters the past has passed and will not retreat
no matter how you entreat
implore beseech beg
supplicate
on knees, clenched fists
the tears of salt and blood
I failed to be your savior
even now I admit you would despise the sentiment
strong willed, brilliant mind and a heart of pure..
I can’t say the word.
Its just a stupid word.
I have been a gore-mand and yet I’m so afraid, so keenly afraid and so morbidly attuned that I fear
I am a hypocrite, for all the detestable scenes that I’ve attuned myself to
and yet a word runs like a ice through my spine and drips like acid from my core
fire
the gift of life and the element of my insanity
it took you away from me and I cannot reconcile that
my princess, my love, my pride and my joy and many things that words can only cheapen
yet I’ve tried to write it all down for you I ran out of time I never got to say Goodbye
and even if I had, it would never be enough
You were destined for greatness and still kept an open heart
If ever was created a being near perfection it was you my dear
I never was quite good enough, I could never measure up
I failed at giving and loving and especially protecting
I ran out of time to say all the things I needed to tell you,
how proud and satisfied and mesmerized of you I truly was
I’ve sat down to write you this letter many dozen times now and I can never get through it
either the tears or some strange belief that admitting it would make it true,
even though it’s been years since I’ve seen you
(Hour 18) 15.30pm-16.30pm. PROMPT, Form, epistolary poem
Dear Rueben,
Even though it seems : the world has imploded : I just want you to know : I am still around : & I am going to find you
I’ve met someone : who’s helping me : (you’ll like him I think) : & we think : whatever happened : water protected us
So I’m hoping : you were practicing : your anchor impersonation : in the deep end of the pool : when the world went weird
Stay hidden : stay safe : we’ll back everyday : for the next week : at 3:15pm : just as if I’m collecting you : from school
We’ll see each other : soon : little bro : I promise
Love you to the stars : & beyond
Stella
Dear PaPa (An Epistolary Poem, Hour 18)
Dear PaPa
Dear PaPa,
I’m sure you didn’t mean it, but you scarred me for life.
When we were little children, we’d climb in the pickup with Daddy
and drive to your house. You kept the pantry full of Little Debbie snacks,
and every time we’d visit, we’d eagerly wait for that magic moment
when you’d smile and turn us loose in the cabinets, allowing us to chow down
on your stash of brownies.
When I turned ten years old, battling prepubescent pudge
and already chunkier than all the girls my age, we ventured to your house.
Unwilling to wait for your permission, I asked if I could have a brownie.
Looking me up and down disapprovingly, you sighed, shook your head,
and asked, “Do you really think you need it?”
I was crushed. My lifelong struggle with my weight had begun.
I remember how every Christmas, you’d give each of us grandkids a crisp new $5 bill.
Until the number of grandkids exceeded the number of dollars you had to spare.
I didn’t understand why the money suddenly stopped.
Didn’t you still love us?
Fast forward a few years to somewhere in my teens. Mom and Dad
needed a night out, and feeling unable or unwilling to trust me,
they left us in your care. Watching TV with you, we passed out on the couch.
Believing we were asleep and the coast was clear,
you changed the channel to a raunchy boob flick,
Private School.
Pretending to doze off, I placed a pillow over my face,
turned my head to the side, and secretly watched through the crack,
thinking you were none the wiser.
Until I felt you pull the pillow from my face,
sigh and shake your head.
“If you’re gonna watch it, you may as well sit up and watch it.”
Embarrassed beyond measure once again,
I awkwardly did as you said.
You were the grown up, so if you said something, it had to be right.
Right?
December 1992.
Dad drove to your house to check on you, then called home in a panic.
He couldn’t wake you up. They rushed you to the hospital up the road.
The family came and went, all hours, day and night. Dad refused to leave you,
and I refused to leave his side. The next sixty some odd hours are a blur, traces of faces
and voices, trails of shared laughter and tears. The last time Dad and I went back to see you,
I didn’t know what to say. I saw my Daddy cry, which he never did,
as he held one of your hands and I held the other.
He said his “I love you” and I squeezed your hand silently,
hoping you knew I meant the words he spoke,
I simply had no strength to utter them.
A single tear fell from your eye.
That’s the last thing I remember.
I’m so sorry….
I never said I love you,
or I forgive you.
Or even thank you,
for the many things you taught me in life,
both good and bad;
for creating my father,
making him the man he is,
who in turn made me the woman I have become:
a lover, a fighter,
a stubborn headed survivor.
I love you, PaPa.
(An epistolary poem is simply a letter written to someone or something. It can be serious or humorous or both.)
Hello Butterfly
Hello butterflies
Filling the skies
Like dandelion petals blowing in the wind
No particular place to go
Just fluttering to and fro
Untamed and wild a show again
Of certainty
The pattern furtively
Winding and gliding to it’s own whims
Hello butterfly
There are no passersby
There are only friends
Prompt 23 and 24, Hour 19
Pick a poem that you wrote earlier in the marathon and then write a companion poem for it. The two can be closely linked and even share a title, or a riff on the same title, or the poem can function independently but explore the same ideas from a different direction.
or
Pick one of your favorite poems by another author and then write a poem as a response to it.
The two can be closely linked or your poem can function independently but explore the same ideas from a different direct. You should reference the poem your poem is a response to at the top of the page.
Dear 60-year old lady
You think you are still 35
You are not
At least you don’t shop at aeropostale
Or try to sport a belly piercing
Or faddish tattoos
And what’s with the cleavage??
Your body is stretched out
Your face sags, along with the
Other parts
You limp from hip surgery and get stiff when you don’t move around
Two-piece,I think not
socks with sandals, NO!
Just be your conservative old self and no one will care.
25-year old girl
Blizzard
Outside my running car
freezing, from home far
left early to beat a storm
only now my key is safe and warm
In 96 it tortured me
frantically trying to get in, you see
a blizzard brewing high and low
a manager helping but no-go
Angry, finally getting in
driving home, no snow within
and now I fear I’ll be trapped again
inside a frozen drift – no-win
Scared now, road barely seen
ice caking on my windshield thin
on the ground, no trace of green
I ponder, amidst the motor’s din
When finally I make it home
another trap assaults my bones
within abode I’m caught, dear me
without those staples I need to BE
and days it stayed that way … three!
The blizzard of 96 it was
but not so free of slush because
now snowplows push street-snow in
both car and me are stuck again.
-Sandra Johnson, 6/22/19
So tell me
So tell me love
did your fingers blister
when you snuffed out
our flame
was there remorse
the day after next
of when you realized
your side of the bed
was cold and empty
I often wonder
play that day back
Stuck on repeat
with those words
I wanted to say
with the words I needed to say
with the words I’ll never get to say