there was a trick
when i was a kid
a needle in the bottom
of an egg and you could
break the yolk
and blow out the contents
left with an empty shell
i wonder who held the needle
and how long did it take
to evacuate my yolk
Tag: poem
pennies (20161116)
i stare at the screen
my eyes closing
sleepy but tired
is not the state
i have achieved
my teeth ache, feel hollow
every footstep
every ringing phone
sends vibrations
along the floor
up through my feet
right into those last
nerves still active
in my caveman jaw
if one more person says
not bad for a monday
i might just
need to see the dentist
with my mouth full of shards
and the taste of pennies
Open Mic Explodes
We’ve got another great poem from Pleasant Street from Are You Thrilled. Check it out along with the rest of this month’s offerings right here.
You should also go check out her site. Lots of good stuff there.
ashes, ashes (20161115)
my lust is no longer
a trickle
and i feel you against
my palms
straining against/with me
i’m a goddamned train
that refuses to
arrive on time
the schedule is trash
fit to line
bird cages
if we were made of paper
then getting close to me
would cause us both
to burst into flames
ashes are good
struggle to perceive (20161114)
there once was a writer from cal
who thought he was quite rational
what he didn’t perceive
would slip right through the sieve
of his neurons in a battle royale
the problem with temptation (20161113)
turning the flashlight
pointing up
into the tree
the white beam
punches me in the nose
suddenly i smell
the oils of the needles
feel the resinous pine
sap sticky on my fingers
a small green insect
dances into the light
caught in the beam
as if in amber
still except for the furious
motion of its cellophane wings
that’s the problem with
temptation i think
shining a light
where your eyes
aren’t accustomed to the
darkness
what you catch there
may be taught
to fly into a flame
——
for
as everything turns grey
writing prompts by J.R.Rogue and Kat Savage
8. The Problem With Temptation
time for dirty hands (20161112)
time to get your hands dirty
time to get your knuckles bloody
time to snarl like a tiger
and leap coiled spring that you are
made so against your will
but really
this is the only fight worth
clenching your fist for
gritting your teeth for
we are all stars
let’s give them one hell
of a sunburn
Open Mic–Not So Easy Bein’ Green
Y’all should hop on over to the November Open Mic page and check out the latest offering by Poet Rummager, our very own Rose. It’s so fun, you’ll croak.
You should also make the leap and follow her blog. I’d say more, but I have a frog in my throat.
some kind of heat (20161111)
a brief moment
the child waving at the dog
even in the dark
seed/fruit (20161110)
i hold a seed
the size of an almond
in my fist
a dried out husk
covered in thorns
when i squeeze
it pierces my flesh
the soft spot
below my thumb
i bleed
i squeeze harder
feeling the bite
the seed is thirsty
but i won’t be
enough
to satisfy it
though it would
certainly blossom
and bear terrible fruit
crimson drops decorate
the floor
the sizes and shapes
of cherry blossoms
i contemplate
tossing it into the fire
–being done with it
–being free of it
but i worry
i will miss
having something to feed
i will miss
the feedback of that sting
Words and Feathers 