The Darkening Night—Magnetic Poetry

Let melt poison peace

Over old corduroy

And universe kiss

Set sail and destroy

.

Explore broken brother

Away from the air

Good fat fool father

Laughing in despair

***

I made this poem using the magnetic poetry tool here: http://play.magneticpoetry.com/poem/poet/kit/

Love, the Elephant in the Room—Wea’ve Written Weekly

Love—the real love. The kind that a parent feels for a child. Not that piddly little, mopey, “Oh, no. I’ve been dumped again,” kind of love—Love is like an elephant sitting on your chest. It makes you wish you were dead. Waking up in the middle of the night and can’t catch your breath through the tears even though you know it was just a dream. And even watching your child slowly breathing lit only by the moonlight slipping between the blinds is not enough to give back your breath. No parent should be stuck with such a dream. The one where you wake up swearing you just watched your child die.

***

I wrote this poem in response to the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt on Skeptics Kaddish. This week’s prompt poem is “Boots on the Ground” by Britta Benson. If you would like to read the poem or participate in the prompt, visit the post here: https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/09/07/w3-prompt-19-weave-written-weekly/

Gathering Daisies—Wea’ve Written Weekly

Is there nothing to be found

Carved like names into headstones

Forever declaring births and deaths

Of the people who once found faith

On slow walks through this field?

.

Like a tree rooted in death

Looking for peace in the cemetery,

I try to find my bit of happiness

Slowly pushing aside the graves.

***

I wrote this poem in response to the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt on Skeptics Kaddish. This week’s prompt poem is “It’s a Stretch” by Steven S Wallace. If you would like to read the poem or participate in the prompt, visit the post here: https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/08/31/w3-prompt-18-weave-written-weekly/

But more specifically, I wrote this poem after reading Murisopis’ response to the weekly prompt. I was inspired by the poem’s focus on the tree roots grinding through the bodies of the dead trying and failing to get sustenance from them. The poem is well worth a look. You can find it here: https://murisopsis.wordpress.com/2022/09/02/looking-at-a-dead-tree/

Ode to the Rage Quit—Free Verse

Come electrons, fuse boxes, and buses,

Thick conductors used in electrical substations,

Fry the gaming computers we’ve overclocked.

Powning the newbs was your only job!

***

A free verse poem has no set pattern for line or stanza length. Rhyme is not used, or it is used sparingly. The line length and the rhythm or the lines are dictated by the natural rhythm of speech or other concerns such as emphasis on a particular word, image, or idea.

On a clear autumn day—Wea’ve Written Weekly

On a clear autumn day, one bare tree stands as bones in a house of death.

***

I wrote this poem in response to the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt on Skeptics Kaddish. This week’s prompt poem is “It’s a Stretch” by Steven S Wallace. If you would like to read the poem or participate in the prompt, visit the post here: https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/08/31/w3-prompt-18-weave-written-weekly/

What is Writing?–Prose Poetry

Writing is a mysterious thing that doesn’t happen all at once, and it seldom happen in the right order. Writing is a process of digging through your knowledge and life experience in an attempt to discover what it is you actually believe. In fact, writers often don’t even know how they think about their subject until they have finished writing about it. And most writing happens when you are rushing out the door in the morning, driving home from class at the end of a long day, or washing your hair in the shower. So always keep a notebook nearby to jot down your genius ideas before they evaporate back into dust they came from.

The Smell of Freedom—Wea’ve Written Weekly—My second try this week

You smell like freedom.

Like motor oil, pimples, and back hair.

Like a firework and potato salad fart.

Like the wrong change at the Walmart register.

Like a greasy spoon restaurant on some Podunk backroad.

Like lightning and rain on the wind.

Like the greasy smell of gun oil on steel

And the taste of the barrel in your mouth.

***

Is it cheating since I didn’t write this one in cascade form? Is it cheating to post two?

I wrote this poem in response to the Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt on Skeptics Kaddish. This week’s prompt poem is “Calcutta Calling” by Punam Sharma. If you would like to read the poem or participate in the prompt visit the post here: https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/08/17/w3-prompt-16-weave-written-weekly/