Rain
Rain
gives water
takes away
happiness
gives sleepy intentions
Singing in the rain
~.%
Poetry Marathon poem #3
Tell them what they need to hear
Lie to them
Tell them you’re not drunk
so you can drive away from them
and go where you’re wanted.
Heh. Want is a word I use sparingly.
Disappointment waited for you, boy,
you stood her up.
Bad plan,
but now it’s hers to deal with
for her days of quiet
reading in her apartment
made of years and old woods
already cut
for use
and we cannot fight function.
Shrill noises snap me back.
Items hold memories
and from memories
we gather magic
and usefulness
beyond use of word.
But understanding runs.
Hope is fleet,
I should know,
my feet hurt from running
and I hold you
close though I don’t know
why.
4PM Writer Needs
Silence
food for writers.
My son has the TV on
in the next room.
I want to scream
but I should probably eat dinner(5PM here).
Snacked my way
thru the day.
A good breakfast
then well…
Milano cookies
Nilla Wafers
Tea
Coffee-mostly decaf
Pizza or a calzone for dinner
Still have a long way to go
Poetry Marathon poem #2
I sift through
the passing times
finding broken glass
in piles among the sand
musing character
and what can be done
with two hands
and hard work
build something
put it to use
make the new
from years of abuse
physical mental
emotional warfare
yearning for a chance
to prove I care
flying, failing, flailing through
doing whatever it is I must do
The drawings scattered
in old notebooks
foretell the future
of bubbling brooks
and trees not paper
nature’s progress
humanity advances
to regress
old problems never solved
just put to the back of the mind
hoping the answer will come with time
but not the attitude
however
dystopian calls
are always crude.
zzZZzz
the best letter
of the alphabet
Poem Eight
My head rest on your shoulder
Your hand rubs my back to comfort
I touch the recent mark
That the comforting hand made
I should run away from the monster
But who else will love me
With all the marks on my body
How High?
When you have high standards, hardly anything seems good enough.
When you have my standards, even the way I breathe sucks.
My nose sounds like an emergency whistle when I inhale.
My dishes look like Barney took a big purple dump on the plate.
My cakes don’t look level enough for me.
When you have my standards, even compliments come with the back thought of “Do they really mean it?”
Every time punch is riddled with the questions…..
What didn’t I accomplish?
Was that chicken cooked enough?
Did I clean the kitchen well enough?
the answer….:
A RESOUNDING NO!
What you didn’t you accomplish?
Try everything you set out for!
Was that chicken cooked well enough?
No! That person is going to die and you will be fired.
Did I clean the kitchen well enough?
you can’t be clean!
Your food is abysmal, your plating looks too bland and boring.
Everything needs to be perfect and spotless!
You must learn everything new in a quick manner because you are not worth the effort or time!
There is no room for error, because everyone else is superior and you have to be perfect just to stay afloat!
I think I may need to lower the bar….
(viii)
In the real world – as also in faerie tales –
it is about thaumaturgy.
In the real world Alice is the monster
and the Jabberwock a virginal cherub,
logged on with the user name ‘bruised romantic’
…..and the password – Rumpelstiltskin.
Poetry Marathon poem #1
Take every piece and put it back to better
take every ash every molecule
stitch it back together
til its woven into the tapestry
You realists fade and fail
to comprehend me
magic doesn’t exist to the
frail in fealty
learn to accept the unexpected
and prepare for the Storm
you’ve disrespected
left neglected broken
beaten and subjected
left to the elements
to learn lessons of life and love
and the true beauty
of the chrysanthemum
or the butterfly or the pebble
feeling of the wind
or the rush in your hair
feeling all around you everywhere
the lost the hopeless and abandoned
upside and torn and twisted
this town and my existence
but this tempest bred the best
broke me down, put me through the test
of the decision between
life and eternal
rest and what it really means
to have consciousness
take every piece.
stitch it back together.
woven into the tapestry.
woven back to better.
The Sunlight shines,
Moonlight fades
shadows come and go
Time passes, beauty fades
sure as the wind will blow
when the world comes down
to what is made of my calvary
you’ll find out what laughter
means to Chivalry.
time passes with every stitch
moonlight fades when the beauty
stitches the tapestry of the world
to face the sunlight back to the better.
These things I know are true
what it means to be me and you
what it means to give
what it means to take
what it means to save the empire
full of empty ranks
of mindless drones
with no counsel they can stand upon
this is a prophet speaking words
of a cognitive anthem
old words resaid to draw a new flame
from fear and anger burned in pantheon
to the wilting figure
trapped in the mirror.
foretold in prophecy
alive in the deep of the
one who holds the key
the one of hope
who soldiers through the tragedy
the epic hero you hold
cradled in your
philosophic fantasy
the wind of change
have destined
that that the winner
of this wellworn
battlefield
may always be found in me.
Be my partner on the path
and let’s find the way.
take every piece.
stitch it back together.
woven into the tapestry.
woven back to better.
time passes with every stitch
moonlight fades when the beauty
stitches the tapestry of the world
to face the sunlight back to the better.
-William M Connors
Eighth Post: Rapunzel
Rapunzel
Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,
But the princess in the Ivory Tower
Was too busy studying,
Reading and learning
To go to a party right then.
She stayed in her Ivory Tower
And obtained her degree
A doctorate later,
And she was free.
Having built her own ladders.