#4 poetry marathon: Ropotics

command this
control this
option (alt) that
everything happens …beep, beep, beep, blip, blip, blop.

clickety click per minute.
click. beep. blip.click, click, click, blop.
click, click, click, beep, beep.
sound system of our lives.

Time. Fast.
not enough time.

causes our bodies to break down
cortisol to increase (beep. beep. beep. beep!!!!)Melatonin to decrease (ahhhh!)

Whatever happened to thyme.

 

 

 

12 pm Poem

Romance

Meet cute

Meet cute again

Love at first sight (or second)

Fireworks

Chemistry

Hand holding

Stolen kisses

Sweet caresses

Lazy mornings

Date nights

Soul mate

My true romance

Life Evergreen

Embodiment of a life evergreen,

Be the compass lit path toward my best.

I feel your soul echoing in my dream.

 

Awaken vibrancy in every gene.

Provide a solace softening my nest,

Embodiment of a life evergreen.

 

Amid bountiful harvest may I glean.

Pillow my compassion and pad my breast.

I feel your soul echoing in my dream.

 

From wisdom’s sweet drops I shall not yet wean-

Channel my hope to babes tucked at my breast,

Embodiment of a life evergreen.

 

Harken me to the song inside my queen-

Humble my heart to make me truly blest.

I feel your soul echoing in my dream.

 

May the shape of truth be forever seen.

Lead me through a life of love and sweet rest.

Embodiment of life evergreen,

I feel your soul echoing in my dream.

 

By Karen Sullivan

Form: Villanelle

 

 

Old New Me

I’m fighting the ‘second’ old me
When it comes to loving you

The old me that would
Easily give up
When things got a little
Too tough

I’m trying to keep
The original me alive
The “Me” that had the will to fight

Before
I was made to commit
Suicide
To the love I had inside

When it comes to loving you
I continue to fight
For something I see
Can be a lasting thing

I can say forever
But forever really isn’t a thing
Because forever only lasts
As long as we have enough time to blink

So
I just want to love you
Until my heart
Decides to take its last beat…

-Angelica Villarruel

 

 

It’s Home #2

It’s always a good morning when I wake up naturally

And it doesn’t hold a five year old yelling out “MUUUUMMY

I need the toilet and I think I’ve spilt milk down the stairs

And can you get the vacuum out, ’cause I’ve pulled out some dog hairs”

It’s always a good morning when I’m not woken by a bark

And the Patterdale at the window tells me it’s no longer dark

“Be honest” he always seems to say, “you know you want to take me out”

And then he gets his lead out and my dreams are filtered out.

It’s always a good morning when the alarm clock is switched off

And I’m not woken by the husband’s snuffling,  snoring,  sneezy cough

I look out of the window onto my rainy street

And can feel the pull of nature and its dancing, rhythmic beat

It’s not a treasure island, and it’s not paradise

And on a rainy grimy day, it’s not even very nice

But it’s my house and it’s my street and it’s where I’m calling home

So I’ll go back to bed now – Queen in my lie-in throne

It’s Not Rocket Science

The click of gears rusting, the brain slowing,

I feel it surely as can be, that groaning halt

as the great steel husks echo, a shuddering clang

that crashes through the empty air.

You point to the formula before me,

college young, youth fresh, frustrated.

“It’s not rocket science!” you fume, enfuriated

that my young brain cannot comprehend.

Algebra, your lover and I, we do not understand.

I don’t see y I should find out about your x.

Poem 4/24 – The Ice

Poem 4 – The Ice
Her hands were as cold
as her silicone armour mould
Tightly embracing her flesh
Our love was forbidden, unspoken
How we thought it would not be awoken
Her world, light years away
How did we become a part of this fray
We must await, a dawn a new
For the ice to become a dew

#6

Two poems each hour

easier said than done

but possible

working on number six

should be on seven and eight

it will happen

my muse is overwhelmed at my confidence

put pen to paper

number six done

a poem- not exactly

a post, yes!

Hour 4: Us

If you and I and them and me;

and that and this and those and these;

and they and it and he and she;

and ye and thee were naught but ‘We’

Not one or two or even three,

Might not our purpose stronger be?