Challenged

It’s cold and rainy
My sister isn’t brainy
She made me write this.

My Dreams Belong to Mannequins

All I have is window shopping:
Refuge of the inane.
I can stare in hope and wonder;
All I’ll have to show for it is pane.

Let Me Put It to You This Way…

When the day breaks,
I want to be the one who broke it;
Smash it into little bits
And use them all to choke it.

When the night falls,
I want it to fall forever.
Let it plummet like an anvil —
‘Cause eternal night is better.

A Better Life

I have missed it terribly,
This life I never had:
When I wake up from it,
Mine doesn’t seem as bad.

Apocalypse

Outside, the world is burning
And the moon has stopped its turning
And all that’s left of yearning
Is the hunger of the beasts

Outside, their moans defying
The sirens that now are dying;
Inside, the only thing that’s trying
Is why so much has ceased.

Cap’n Rosy

There once was a pirate called Rosy
His crewmen were all very nosy
They all had a bet
Of if he wore a corset
Until he shot all who had the thought “does he?”

The #1 Most Inconvenient Thing In the World

Shall I call down Death from on his throne,
An abdication to declare?
For his lordship over worst of woes
Has a challenger!
Often it’s been whispered
That there’s a thing that’s worse than Death;
And it’s this very thing that’s snickered
As I’ve cursed under my breath!
It’s a nuisance I can scarce compare…
(Do tell if you’ve a metaphor to lend!)
And I call myself a poetry connoisseur —
But no, meter is not my friend!

***

Sorry for being absent these last few days. Had some things on my mind… Still do. But let’s see if we can work poetry into it, eh? Just don’t expect perfect meter. I’ve never been able to fully wrap my mind around that…

Tribute

I wrote a dozen poems
Off the top of my head;
Wrote them, wondering
If I was better off dead.
Because I fight with my brother;
I fight with my mom.
Sometimes I fight with my sister
When she goes on and on.
So I wrote a dozen poems
Just to clear out my mind:
They were pretty good,
And of the earnesty kind.
I would have shared them with you,
But I was out walking,
And by the time I came in,
Every one I’d forgotten!

An Ode…

I do not know you well:
We are like strangers passing in the hall;
But when I do see you,
You’re very sweet and not too tall.

I like you very much that way:
You put a spring into my step.
You make me laugh and smile,
Where before I might have wept.

You help me to begin my day;
You help me to pretend
That a bit of you makes it all okay,
And I’ll make it to the end.

So I may not have known you very long,
And I may not know you very well,
But from what little I have seen,
I think Coffee very swell!

I Think I’m Louder Than I Think I Am… (Sorry)

“Anger as soon as fed is dead- ‘Tis starving makes it fat.” — Emily Dickinson

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She tells me feeding it should kill it,
So I give it scraps under the table:
Little words, and poetry
That’s barely worth the label;
Hoping maybe if I write it,
All these whispers of “angry,”
Then I will never have to shout it
And trouble anyone but me.