Subbing in America: Hour 15
a train lumbering
spray painted rusty cars
children stop their play
they face an alien beast
each day — it never gets old
Crab Rangoons
Creamcheese mixed
With bits of crab
Tucked tight
In its wonton
Fried till golden
Much to my tastebuds delight
Once walked 2 miles
There and back
Just to have this delicious snack
Been over a decade
Since I had them, rightly made
Fortunately I found great ones
Not far from my babe
Now we order whenever I visit
These crab rangoons are just exquisite
Poem 3 – Favourite Subject
The love for biology
Started from her Mother’s stories
Of dissecting cockroaches
Of writing records
Of studying butterflies in their cucoons
Of magnifying into tiny leaves
And then came a teacher
Who multiplied this love
By showing flowers
And the rarest ferns
By teaching with passion
And loads of patience
But the sight of blood she feared
So biology from her life disappeared
Three years she missed the subject
So stories from her friend she would collect
Finally, determined to get back to her favorite subject
She decided to re-elect
The rush of learning was back
Favourite subject and favourite learner were back
Hour 15 ‘ This dance (Text prompt)
I ride hgh
playing the shy violin whose strings dapple sweet memory with blushes of eternity
as i wake the danger in your hips with the strokes i almost give this violin
the purple flames dance my passions higher as the violin slips away
my hands rove and discover
its a pleasure that both our bodies want to sway
As we do….
i hear the violin still
strummed by our infernal hunger
tampering the strings
absent mercy
as we dance mercilessly
a beautiful dance
how i love this dance
this dance
Covetous
At night the curls are pinned up
Flexible, odd rods
Medusa, snaking in all directions.
Daylight reveals tight spirals gently combed
Waves and twirls
Shifting highlights in the sun,
A peek of gray.
The foundation is uniform
But flat. Simple.
Under her eyes a swipe of blue liner
Fake lashes swish her glasses lenses
Librarian frames.
Her lips aren’t plush,
But they are sleek
Glossy.
A dress tickles her knees.
Block heels.
A necklace earrings some designer bag.
I want her.
I want to slide into her flesh until hers
Is mine.
But she is across an ocean
Galaxies away
My feet clad in dirty flip flops.
Hair in a sloppy braid.
Ripped jeans – a fall, not fashion
T shirt
Wrinkles bare
Flaws exposed.
She is all I want.
I hate me. This me.
I was a her. I had a job and a reason
To care
Some days someone noticed
Some days not.
Now who would I dress up for, the dog?
Does he have prefences? Are they naugahyde?
I don’t just long for her clothes.
It’s everything
Her time
Her chance for compliments.
The appreciation she may receive.
I long to be what I was
But I can’t find my way back.
Poetry Marathon Hour 15:
Hour 15 – okay let’s do the things. Let’s keep going I think I’m going to use a prompt from the poet rajah again “wonder where tomorrow is”
POEM 15:
If things continue to go this way
I’ll have no choice but to wonder
where tomorrow is and how we
are supposed to get there in one piece.
However, we chose this path –
we signed up for this and it is
now up to each and every one of us
to do the things we said we would.
-M. Rene’
Sincerelybluejay poetry
Prompt 10 Unswimming Fish
Fish that can’t swim
is proof that nothing has to be done gracefully
I imagine other fish telling it
take all the time that you need
jokingly
just continue,
everything doesn’t have to move in a straight line
I Am Grief
The haunting voice follows me
the haunting voice follows me
as I search for that which I have lost
as I search for that which I have lost
haunting for that search, I have the voice
which follows me as I lost
Circling back through my emotions
circling back through my emotions
I am reacquainted with grief I thought buried
I am reacquainted with grief I thought buried
I am buried with my reacquainted emotions
I back through thought-circling grief
It will never fully end
it will never fully end
though I am not sure I want to forget
though I am not sure I want to forget
never forget I want to end
I am not sure it fully will though
I end the thought, as sure haunting me;
I want it buried— to that voice:
forget I am I, for emotions never follows.
Lost, I am grief with which,
circling, I will not fully search.
though, reacquainted, have my back through
L.U.S.T. Leaking Underground Storage Tanks
Corroded & rusty
with radiioactive contents
or at least toxic
Buried all over-everywhere
Find the map on the net
punch in your address or better yet
some streets in your general vicinity
See the locations
Under a gas station
a wrecking yard a hospital
a church and a school
Look at the dates
They’ve been buried for decades
Most of them are leaking
into the water table
or just into the soil
They had a fund
to clean them up
But then somehow
I guess they forgot
Bigger fish to fry
Nukes and climate crimes
Again The Stillness
How long ago? It
seems like a different time.
My heart is beating.
Yet again the stillness comes.
Broken flowers rest on you.