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Tag Archives: Dreams

Poem: Crushed

broken before dawn
I scramble two eggs
softly to perfection

touch of sea-salt
pinch of black-pepper
buttered dark rye toast

chewing old memories
wondering why I sleep
alone in a king-size bed

green tea bitter burns
across my ancient tongue
soothing this heart ache.

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Poem: Past Grace

Days ago I died –
not literally of course
otherwise these dazed words
would never dared
arisen at all.

yet here it is as still born truth

Figuratively
– then if pedantically you insist –
I expired inside my mind
– deep down inside –
my soul imploding black hole
quantum singularity replacing
what little did exist as
mindful reality

I remain entombed beneath
layers of pretense
shielding you from these facts

heed then this warning:

Do not scrape the patina
for it will only release
sulfuric gases of my decay

Save your self
for I am already gone.

Poem: February 28th

ceramic
gift from my mother
gathers dust

***
birds singing
outside my window
spring sunlight

***
melting snow
uncovers treasure
left by dogs

***
broken rake
leans against my shed
autumn leaves

***
seasons change
faster than we can
remember

It was a February challenge to myself – to write novel poetry: One-a-day. I missed a few. Here is one to end the month.

Poem: February 25th

(Yeah I kinda didn’t write for a few days as the creative mojo died…)

I truly wanted this
to be something
more than one kiss.

Your warm touch seeping,
through winter clothing
keeping us from freezing.

Yet here I am again
watching the moonrise,
alone as I pretend.

That you are dreaming
about us entwined
in moonlight beaming

I truly wanted this
to be everything
and so much more…

It is a February challenge to myself – to write novel poetry: One-a-day.

Poem: February 21st

Stubborn donkey, you inspire me to write.
I despise the way you bray and tremble,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about you is stessful.

Shall I compare you to a black buffoon?
You are more angry, ornery and soft.
Mad sun heats the splendid peaches of June,
And summertime has the sore choir loft.

How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your shaggy ears, and stubborn ass.
Thinking of your wild nature fills my days.
My hate for you is like broken watch glass.

Now I must away with an irate heart,
Remember my fake words whilst we’re apart.

It is a February challenge to myself – to write novel poetry: One-a-day.