Poetry Marathon Hour 2:

Alrighty, hour two is upon us, and I’m so excited to see how this goes I am sorting through all the prompts I have at arms reach and the one I’m most excited to tackle right now is from the prompt journal “I am Incomplete…

Poem for Hour Two

A Mesostic – For and Not For My Dog Tugboat “These cracked elbows, the only sign of time passing” —Canisia Lubrin from The Dzgraphxst, page 41 Cracked elbows, the only sign of Time passing Canisa says bUt not true God said to me just now…

Hour Two – The Deep

Brilliant reflections Sunrise on the soul of the Deep What will protect the sea? The soul of the Deep when all that is left are marine research venues with beautiful architecture “the world’s only submarium” the fliers say The soul of the Deep is surely…

Recipe For a Solo Lockdown

Ingredients: One accommodation, occupied solely by yourself A scattering of well-meaning friends, popped up from nowhere One long distance relationship One far-away family A mixed bag of acceptance, fear, pride and loneliness Method: 1.Take the accommodation and stuff well with largely useless items Bought in…

Brief Biography

Idealists know that the hero must win And pessimists know that ideals are for fools Suffering brings its own wisdom, of sorts, But maturity comes when ideals are regained. Fresh-faced and kind-hearted, Flat-footed and dim, Idealists know that the hero must win. Betrayed and abandoned,…

Comfort in the Quiet

Sometimes I sleep in Silence the alarm Shut out the endless droning nothing news Burrow deep in the sheets Beneath the blanket Beneath the quilt There I breathe The scent of your skin Deep slow breaths Matching mine to yours The world outside disappears Sounds…

Listening

For God’s sake, why are you so sad? It’s 10 o’clock in the morning! Did you hear what I said? My head is filled with words to sort out. I need time to hear you and to understand. Likes, tries, attempts Turn into patterns, routines…

Hour Two: Georgia

Nostalgia can be such a beautiful waste of time when you think back on the small, unimportant things Past glories fade into nothingness Past defeats still sting though perhaps not as much The ritual of buying a can of coffee from the vending machine on…

Hour Two Poem.

In soft moonlight On a clear Calm night The trees Silhouetted by the stars, I met the devil A handsome fellow He was quite charming A trifle alarming He greeted Good Morning I should have taken, Mothers warning To never trust A man past midnight…