in a safeway checkout line
a husband and wife
she argues
with the checker about
a two for one deal on something
steaks, i don’t know
i’m too busy focusing on the man’s eyes
crazy and glassy
i’ve seen them before
meth eyes
brain damage eyes
eyes too open
stuck on the surprise setting
but so unfocused
a truck could run him down and he wouldn’t know
until he tried to stand up
yet
he is the one not arguing
saying okay as he emerges from a fog
and pays the bills
while his wife angrily shoves food
in the bags
and walks off
Tag: creative writing
storm (poem 20160510)
deafened by thunder
blinded by lightning, we fall
drowning in this rain
——
RonovanWrites
Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt
Challenge #96 Lightning&Rain
on not ruining you (reading 20160509)
I felt like doing a reading. I think I got my quiet voice on. I like it. It’s a cross of Garrison Keillor and Norman Bates.
Crow on not ruining you
turbulence (poem 20160509)
the earth spins when you speak
i wonder about my weakness
why i can’t excise these
inner ear bones
that twist the world
under my feet
when your mouth opens
when your tongue glides
across your teeth
afterward, after words
i hear rushing blood
river rapids in my head
i think is it my heart
turning on a shaft
a waterwheel churning in my chest
flooding my veins
with turbulence
——
The Daily Post
The Daily Prompt: Chaos
https://dailypost.wordpress.com
on not ruining you (Poem 20160508)
i’m always relieved to see you smile
it means that i didn’t ruin you
(this is a song that i sing to myself)
i used to only hum it but i learned the words
so i could write it down
so i could write a chorus
so i could play guitar during a round at camp by a fire
but i never learned guitar
but i hated camp
but there’s not enough money to get me to lead a round
of anything
you are roses freshly and newly bloomed
and i am the mud staining the thorns
the blemish of mildew on the leaves
aphids attaching and draining
and your smile is the fragrance that spins my head
and if my head were to come clean off
it would sing my song
and i would not regret it
sacrifice (Poem 20160507b)
it wasn’t a traditional knife
that he held in his hand
not consecrated, holy, or blessed
not even a piece of metal
honed to an edge
yet it was sharp enough
the future and the past
everything would be better
everything would be cleaner
all he had to do
was make the cut
——
The Daily Post
The Daily Prompt: Shadow
https://dailypost.wordpress.com
too much to do (Stories 20160507)
This week’s phrase –
“I had so many plans for my life……”
My Response
….that I had to build a time machine AND clone myself.
——
twilight (Poem 20160507)
we joke about it
you want me to murder you
but you insist it not hurt
and i tell you that
if it ever came down to it
i would follow soon after
i think too much about it
maybe this is why i don’t have friends
painless leaves few options
maybe pills for you
just a gentle falling asleep
or a squeeze of the iv bag
some extra morphine
like i always imagined i’d
have to do for someone else
like i would hope someone
would have the sense to do
for me
but for me, maybe a hose
from the exhaust pipe
through the passenger window
and i could listen to
death cab for cutie on my phone
because that would be ironic
this is why i don’t have friends
eclipse (Poem 20160506)
the screen tries to hold my focus
but shadows
flicker past catch my eye
ghosts, shades, living fades,
the memory of a wind chime
on a still day
with the right suns
you can mix light and shadow into
crisp edges and soft blue blisters
but these shadows sport human shape
i watch them lengthen and merge
and wait for their whispers
——
useless wings (Poem 20160505)
i would make dust devils
if a pair of wings
sprouted from my back
like those pictures of angels
from a kid’s illustrated bible
–you know, the one with blond jesus
ah, those wings, so bright
so electric fluoride white
were they just for show
i don’t remember seeing
the angels fly in those pictures
one image i remember–
flaming sword in hand
staring off at the horizon
not even looking at adam and eve
but ready to set up the hue and cry
as they slunk away in the shadow
of its petrified glowing wings
with shame-shadowed stained faces
or maybe he stared at them
disappointment smeared across his mug
insects trying to steal their way
back into a prison called paradise
or envy since they soared
without wings and without
having to carry that dead weight
around on their backs
——
Words and Feathers 