No us
Thre is nothing left
all have been depleted
There is no you
there is no me
there is only an empty, barren world
old
bleak
broken
Hour 13, Throwback
Hogwash, hokum, horsefeathers,
hooey and humbuggery,
tarradiddle, trash, twaddle,
tommyrot and tomfoolery:
Don’t give me your
blatherskite, blarney or bunkum,
I’m through with your senseless
trumpery.
Quanked
light headed. words spinning round
with 12 hours left. lucky 13.
Just over the hump, now
through the night.
no rest for the weary
dawn comes too early
as time slips by
quickly- quietly
running together, endlessly
as the guitar strums, its lullaby
Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon
Don’t laugh
She never smiles, she never laughs
It’s sad to seriously choose life paths.
A joke was told, her face was bold and never cracked a grin. Your face will crack and break my back if happiness sets in.
When all her friends were gailey laughing at a story Erich told,
Not her they said, she never laughs, her face is looking old.
So my dear friends, don’t be so crass, and laugh and smile once in a while, or just be an agelast.
Voltage
In the middle of concrete chaos
She looked over her shoulder
Smiled, and winked
At me
Sending voltage through my veins
I stood stoic, as a storm rage on inside
In that 1 second of that smile and wink
My live was never the same
You wasn’t
You wasn’t there when I needed you the most
Its like you disappear you went ghost
Was I’m not important to you as your wife
You told me I was your world your whole life
You saw the pain and struggles I was going through with my pregnancy
All I wanted from you is for you to be there for me
One thing I would never understand from you
Is how a husband can kick his pregnant wife out of their home
What man threatened to throw his wife things out if they don’t get out
Everything you put me through I remain loyal and loved you
Through all the pain you put me through
I was there when nobody else was
I loved you unconditionally like a real wife does
I forgave even when you went out with another women
While I was sick and pregnant with our son
Was we not important or was you too busy having your fun
What was your motive when you made up a women to hurt my feelings
Did you want to see me in pain and lose all trust in you
Was that really what you wanted to do
What kind of husband tell they’re wife
that they wish they never married them or even have a baby by them
You broke my heart to many times
But I keep taking you back
Thinking you’re going to change
And be the husband and father you suppose to be
But thats wishful thinking
Now it time for me to think about our son and me
At the end of the day you’re going wish you had your family back
But its going to be to late and another man will have taken your place and show me and our son what a real Man look like
Hour 13
I’m letting myself down, but I can’t be sorry.
But I’ll do a minute poem this instead of a haiku or lune or whatever, just to prove I’m still invested.
Tell me how you’re doing lately
Prim and stately
Never badly
Smiling sadly
Always keeping your mask in place
Hiding your face
Secrets brewing
Feelings stewing
Never let the others see your heart
Or you’ll restart
The truest loss
Back to chaos
MILLINER
I hear you are in business, and women are your aim
To dress their heads in beauty, with headgear made of fame!
I’m sure you’ll do quite well, for some women love to wear
A headdress that will flatter and show them off with flare.
Will it be a hat with ribbons and a bow?
Or maybe it is made of straw to wear for shade, you know?
Will it be a scarf tied round with beads or such?
Or will it be a headband decorated with your touch?
I’m sure whatever you create will be talk of the town
When ladies wear your special one that fits as if a crown.
What the meaning of this?
We’ve paid our dues and joined the ranks
as gracefully as possible
we don’t steam the wrinkles from our panks
Our hygiene, not in question
corridors and hallways. make no fuss
but careful, cover us
those sun rays aren’t a boon
we play hard, work hard and
take our second shower by noon
The grass is not our playground
nor are the courts of ball.
just cover up the hallways and leave us,
Then the we’ll be the happiest of all!
-Club Xystus
Next!
A slip
Quickly, adjust
New grip
Hard-pressed?
Water and food
Refreshed.
Too slow?
Check the new rules:
Not so!
Form: Musette
It’s very tempting to throw in the towel since my last poem was submitted 14 minutes past the deadline. “Too bad, tried and failed – as usual. Might as well quit.” this is the litany playing in my head right now. but this time, I’m not going to listen.