S. Kiss Snows
I’ll give you kisses with my nose
Like we were Alaskan eskimos
Fighting the arctic winds as they blow
How else do you think they survive in the snow?
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I’ll give you kisses with my nose
Like we were Alaskan eskimos
Fighting the arctic winds as they blow
How else do you think they survive in the snow?
In Denver, Colorado grown and raised,
in the laboratory’s where I spent most of my days;
flippin’ switches, linkin’ gadgets, mixin’ potions so neat
makin science discoveries that couldn’t be beat.
Then a couple o’ dudes who were bein’ so rude
started talkin’ smack about my Hubbard Review
I made one little threat and my peers got scared and said
“We’re shuttin ya down, then we’ll get outta your hair.”
I knocked em out cold and when they came to
they were in my time travel pod halfway through.
Where exactly we were I had no idea.
I said “who remembers your prehistoric trivia?”
We launched outta the pod around 150 million BC
and I yelled to my colleagues “check these sphinx moths, ya see?”
Looked around at my jungle and visited time and again,
tamed me a dino, became the first of cave men.
HOUR FOUR
POEM # 4
24 HOUR
POEM
MARATHON
SOMETIMES
Sometimes!
Sometimes I don’t know the day,
Will my body give permission to stay.
Sometimes I’m not sure how to think,
My body cries for one more drink.
Sometimes out the window I look,
I try to sit in a chair and read a book.
Sometimes I wake up and salute the moon,
My head feels heavy, larger than a balloon.
Sometimes I hear people call me a drunk,
I have a date to be placed in Earth’s trunk.
Sometimes I ask who I am, I know not me,
I look in the mirror, a shadow do I see.
Sometimes I’m not the person you knew,
Always be my friend and bring the brew.
Sometimes when the parties over I’m awake,
I promise no more drinks will I ever take!
Sometimes!
Written by Carl Mann
The kurlman
6-13-2015
Write a poem that belongs to a specific genre, ie: a science fiction poem, a fantasy poem, a romance poem, etc. . . Feel free to use cliches, or subvert them!
———————————————————————————————————————
They, with lips tangled,
grasping at the nothingness
of Love—ultimately only
tasting lust—seize a moment
at the sun’s wake.
A procession of coffins,
filled with nightmares,
trips into the scene.
Traffic jams are stemming
out, branches on a tree of
confusion… And the light
reads red.
Lovers tick away at old
cookoo clocks, greedy for
another bird song. But
no birds will wake without
a greeting from sunrise.
Slipping into a deafening
chorus of cosmic composition,
three lovers grip at their hearts
trying to resuscitate their souls.
1. Amy Winehouse
Dead before I ever heard
your name, that voice.
Did you die in vain?
2. Tracy Chapman
I want you to sit down,
have tea, sing some poetry.
3. Ronnie Gilbert
You can’t be gone.
Not now, not ever.
Even if I forget my own name
I’ll close my eyes and hear “Goodnight Irene.”
4. Joan Armatrading
Ma Me O Beach, lucky enough
to walk under ladders, I’m taking
my baby uptown, leaving the
empty highway behind.
Thanks to you, I know
when I get it right.
5. Hildegarde
A 93-year-old woman in
Hospice care, speaking mostly French,
remembers you singing in a cabaret,
circa 1952, the big war over, the cold
war just begun. You charmed the men
and inspired the women. First to sing
“I’ll Be Seeing You,” how is it possible
you never recorded it for posterity?
We can only listen to others sing it
and pretend it’s you.
He came to town one Thursday
all dirty, wild and worn.
His steed was lithe and sturdy
His clothes were slightly torn.
People started whispering
as townsfolk often do:
Was this bloke a traveller?
or from that mining crew?
He settled in the local pub
and hogged the bloody fire
brooding over middies
until he’d then retire.
The local folk were edgy
at this silent, dusty stranger.
He seemed to carry with him
an air of sullen danger.
Just a few days later on
the whole town met to ponder
the man who’d built their township
and another one just yonder.
Old Man Age had taken him
a week or so before
and everyone who knew him
felt a sadness to the core.
So as the speeches ended
and the silence fell around
the Stranger put his hand up
and his voice he finally found:
“I’ve come to town to pay respects
to the man who gave me life.
I have no other siblings
nor a mother, nor a wife.
And now I have no father
with whom to reconcile.
Stubbornness and petty pride
made me a imbecile.
30 years ago we fought
and 30 years have fled
with not a word between us
and now, my father’s dead.
So take my words and listen
for I’m leaving town today:
Never let the curtain fall
on a half-arsed written play.”
I heard my heart break
shards of glass were left inside
my left wrist
I cut myself
staring at the pain I couldn’t feel anything
It was perfectly placed this time
Maybe it has finally left me,
my imagination
was a tool unneeded
My heart dared me to love myself
the mortality of what I enjoyed confronted me
it was stone cold
foul mouthed and closed
seconds rolled by like miles
I realized I dreamed of this ending differently
My mind lingered in corridors
the sounds of love echoed in my consciousness
thickening my vulnerabilities as I sank silently
all I could think about was my pleading eyes
as I placed my heart at his feet
leaving me to stare at my own reflection alone
a minute long conversation was all it took
and I knew we were done
scratching the surface of my strong self
I dug inside deep enough
to remove that pain
like candle wax it warmly dripped
as I painted the canvas of the unknown
with a fading ache and fear
of knowing I would have to live
without his shadow
I blame the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson for:
Delusions of happily ever after
Princess and castles, true love and fairy godmothers, for leading me to believe a frog is more than a frog.
I blame George Lucas for:
Taking me to a galaxy far far away
Good over evil and evil over good and round and round, for showing that evil is grown not inborn, that destiny and force lead us, and scoundrels are sexy (yes, bad boys are good!)
I blame David Bowie, that fabulous Goblin King, for:
Showing me a magic dance of seduction and escape
Being wicked and kind, bringing fantasy to a mundane world, and teaching me to be careful what I wish for
I blame the Dread Pirate Roberts and the farm boy for:
“As you wish”
The most desirable words in the world, demonstrating that true love conquers all, giants and Spaniards have the biggest hearts, and to the pain is so much worse than to the death
Yes, there are many to blame for my ideologies of
True love, wishes, and happily ever after
My fascination with bad boys
There is good in everyone, if you just look
Fate and destiny and magic and the force exist for us all
From fairy tales to galaxies, to labyrinths to kingdoms~ my education from child to adult, I blame you….
And, honestly, I thank you
There is some news you get that makes you happy like we’re getting married, I’m pregnant, or I made the team.
Then again there is the news that makes you sad, miserable, angry, depressed, and scared.
Like the news that your son need brain surgery.
The kind of news you don’t want to hear, the kind that slices through you, gutting your insides causing you pain.
Like a butcher with every slice an organ removed the emotional slaughter.
I need you to sign this concent and release form, but I must explain as I’m in doing this surgery I’m between his scull and main artery if an anytime this artery gets cut by the laser your son will die on my operating table.
Slice goes the butchers knife.
Hey may lose some memory, another slice!
We will cut a piece of his scull to access the brain, oh God stop this knife is too sharp.
This operation though preformed is relatively new and not a guarantee, slice there is no more to cut, I can’t take no more this news you give I don’t want to hear.
I absorb but I am lost now theres nothing inside, can’t look towards the future when I heard you could die.
I ask God’s forgiveness, I ask him to trade my life for yours so all of this pain you would not have to endure.
My son I have no option with faith and trust in God I put your life in surgeons hands.
I want you better, I need your pain to stop, this operation must not fail because that’s just be the news I don’t want to hear.