Some are Pathetic

Stuck in the muck

hit by a truck

caught in the mire

liar liar pants on fire.

you dropped your mask

it seemed to do the task

until it slipped that day,

I know you won’t remember

you have that narcissistic

amnesia.
the torch you used to gaslight

me

went out when I exhaled

you play the victim

and smear me

but that’s ok! My honesty

and self determination will

make you fear me.

my head is high

yours, hung in shame!
You tried to destroy me

and pick me apart

joke’s on you, I know my heart!

I left you, slammed that door shut!
I locked it and threw away the key!

you’ll always remember,

you weren’t equipped to handle me!

what we wrought

2122
it’s quiet again
the machines quelled
as night falls
we each sit
in silent solitude
looking out over
barren terrain
hopeful
tomorrow may rain
regenerate something
anything
but the forecast
likely disagrees
decades gone by
at least it hasn’t ended
not entirely
not yet

Full moon night

Hour – 4

Might she could ever forget that
Blue moon night,
When a smile on her face and even
The imaginations were bright,

Trolling on Thoroughfare with
No worry and no fear,
But who knew a trap lies waiting
To ensnare,

That debaucher came closer from behind,
Like a coward to grab her tight,
The little princess froze in fright,
Indeed It would be a fearful sight.

She was amazed to see his
Malignant eye Over her,
Too small to see a demon and face
This kinda scorns ever.

She wanted a male hero to come
As she has just realized ;
Power is in only males,
But how could she forget that
It happens only in fairytales.

Soon her clothes disappeared
Oh! It was a mortifying sight,
The very moment she decided that
She is a hero and will fight.

He laughed over her vain attempt
But she kept trying,
Kicking, pushing, and through her tiny nails
Continuously lacerating.

Luckily were some kicks and hard pushes
Turned him away,
She ran as she got the space,
That day she realized
A lady can have;
Power with charm and grace.

She wanted to cry when it happened,
But she wasn’t weak so
Didn’t shed tears.
So she held everything in,
While feeling so tainted inside.
It has been an incident in past

But she can still feel
That bad touch,
Days have passed and now she thinks
She could suffer much.

The thing that matters is the change
That is bought in her,
And the change she decided to make
Around her.

He tried hard to break her fairy dreams
He didn’t care about her screams,
He tried to shred her worthy ambitions,
That demon had no emotions.
She thanks him now,
More than anyone ever before;

He taught her how
It feels to fight;
For yourself
For Soul, Dignity

For the realization of self-confidence and safety,

He tried to cut her with his eyes,
But could not stop her voice,
still, like air, she will rise,
She will no more be just a choice.

She is a mother, sister, daughter, wife, friend, niece, and much more

But she will keep reminding you all that she is a strong woman before.

Aditi Dixit

Poem 4

he is a
perfect symphony
played in an antique piano
that has gone
out of tune.

Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 4

I march bravely into the unknown. The silent room slowly awakens. Gentle go the lights. The teacher’s words draw my eyes. A quick reverie amidst the sounds of squeaking sneakers and slamming lockers.

tapping the window sharply

robin interrupts

wisps of fluffy clouds

One-by-one the cacophony of voices bounces, slinks, shuffles, and skips in the room.

announcing their arrival

their unique flight call

migrate together

My cape catches the breeze from the rotating fan. I quiet the rising din and rise. They perch on the edge of their seats.

snapping my phone it lingers

patch of bright faces

purple clover blooms

 

My sour cream and chives

I still think about you , you’ve never left my mind

I still think about you , I believe our souls are still meant to be entwined

I think about all the things that we could have been

together, the places that we could have seen

even though we may have lived oceans apart

a piece of you , was always in my heart

you’ll always be my “ sour cream and chives “

the one and only , queen bee to my hive

Hour 4 (Mewra)

If you need a friend
one who is genuine
look no further for her
name is Mewra
She will show up dancing with a smile
She loves to sing in the wild

Her hair looks like a butterfly
Her dreams are big as the sky
Her voice is like thunder
Her stature is strong
She is a friend indeed
And a friend when in need!

Would you like a friend like Mewra?
Are you a friend like Mewra

Copyright(C)2022 Roxann Lawrence

DogSpeak #4 Scratch and Sniff

DogSpeak #4 Scratch and Sniff

You’re thinking I’m Houdini,
right? Maybe Houndini, ok
groan.

It’s instinct, at least I think it is.
You scratch my ear, and please do
and often; I tilt my head, my eyes
glass over, and I moan that same moan
as when you give me that big cow leg
filled with peanut butter –

and that’s not even the Houdini part.

No, but then, when you stop,
I insist on sniffing your scratching finger.
No one told me to do this, it’s not listed
in the Dog to Human User Guide, apparently
not something posted on facebook or twitter
or insta-whatever, I just know to do this.
I have to do this and you have to let me.

So long as you know you have to scratch
my ears, and no cheating by doing just one,
both, please, and then right away, I have to
sniff your finger, your knuckle, your whole
hand because I have to know what’s going on
in there. Curiosity takes over, are there crops
of onions or potatoes, oh, maybe seedlings
for tennis ball trees? Ok, groan. What,
a build-up of wax and how did it get there?

No x-rays; no cat scan, no felines allowed;
no lab results although Rover is part-lab
and he’s ok but even he can’t describe what
the inside of my ears smell like. I need to know.
I hypnotize you to do your scratching duty,
I’m mesmerized by the ecstasy of it and then
presto – let me sniff the scratch. Ok, want me
to scratch yours? Just kidding, groan.

~ J R Turek

2022 prompt 4 / hour 4 “ghosts dancing in the forest”

2022 prompt 4 / hour 4 “ghosts dancing in the forest”

 


The piano sits now, silent

He moved it out of the house long ago

Couldn’t bear to have it inside

Couldn’t bear to part with it either

It was *hers*

Took it to deep into the forested area, well behind the homestead

There is stays being reclaimed by nature, as all things eventually are

He visits, sometimes with family

His granddaughter comes with him often

The mannequin was her addition and he doesn’t mind

She’s 8 and saw it and thought it was a good idea

And there’s a symmetry to it, to his mind

A broken mannequin, playing a broken piano, on the property of a broken man, who visits because it holds *her* urn

Symmetry is good, he thinks

Best to be ready

So when it’s time his ashes can be put next to her, within the piano

Then their spirits can rise and dance in the forest to the tunes from the ghost piano

She always did love music

 

Merry – LordCricket 2022 poetry marathon