At all costs
Purge yourself,
Drain the hideous from your soul.
Cradle the holy,
Allow your words to console.
Wring out the fear,
Brought on by the flood.
When your pen runs out of ink,
Refill it with your blood.
Passing
Now,
every clock
ticks the minutes
with the same
don’t-go,
please-go
cadence
as the one across
from the hospital bed,
in the emergency room,
at hospice.
Even time says
its goodbyes.
1pm
Parts of me
are fully into it
the other half
is so distant
i can’t even hear my pen
usually it’s screaming by now
am I holding back
keeping in…
Nothing to do
Time goes by with nothing to do,
Time flies when you have lots to do
Time waits on no one
Time wasted can not be fined
A time to sleep
Atime to weep
A time to stop and think
What next, am I doing my best!
Abnormal
This is where I come
to feel normal.
I stand here accusingly looking
at angels in the back of a cave.
I’m just a normal girl,
wish I was just
a bit more feminine.
I kick at creeping shadows
casting spells over the angels.
Screaming in my head
and watch the echoes
take roller-coaster rides
on the empty spaces that
bounce off the inner walls
that is my empty soul.
I need something for protection,
I’m sinking into the solid ground
and don’t know how to swim away.
There are no waves to make me drown
Please, please, let the rain come down!
Falling into this dry sea…
No, no emotions to wash away with me!
I am drowning on dry ground!
100 Angels grab my hart
as I wage wars on myself.
I’d cut them loose,
but then I’m left to wipe
the blood from their eyes,
begging them not to bother
with things that won’t
give in to change.
I say bye after a while
and hope to draw at least one smile.
I leave the angels there in that cave
and run so fast, so far away,
I hope to never cross their minds again.
Although I want to make them
feel how much it hurts to miss me.
I’ve got to …
Hang up the phone…
Close the website…
Ignore the e-mail…
Because,
this is where I come
to feel normal.
The Raging and Consuming War of The Poetics
Part V
Stuck inside the bunker,
I began to scratch my story
on the sides of the bunker walls;
I simply stated in the essence of dust –
THE RAGING POETICS
FOUGHT HERE ON THIS DAY…
EVERYONE SURRENDERED.
– Michellia D. Wilson 8/23/14 NOON
Prompt for Hour Five
Death is the theme of many poems and the preoccupation of many poets. Still after all this time poets are churning out new and intriguing approaches to death in poetry.
The goal of this prompt is to write a poem about death. The death you write about could be imagined, personified, personal, true, or false. The details of this prompt are entirely up to you.
Poem two
I am alone
I am afraid
I need help
But I can ask
I will be tortured
And humiliated
Even after
I am helped
5. tanka 2
tomatoes redgold
the bite of licorice basil
garlic warmed in oil
this the food of summer
evanescent as cool air
How To Laugh- Poem #4 by Ingrid for Half Marathon
How To Laugh- Poem #4- Poetry Half Marathon by Ingrid Exner
It starts with a little grin
And slight movement of one’s chin.
Lips curl up and mouth goes down,
It’s the opposite, of a frown.
Now you have the basics here…
Oops…more instructions to be clear.
Breathing is a must you know
In and out and there you go.
Now, for the most important part,
You MUST express this with great heart.
All the joy, humour and love
Inside, out and, all above.