One small change today
One gift of time
One contribution to a cause
One life-lesson contemplated
One old idea reconsidered
One step toward wisdom
won each day.
Poem-growing August 28, 2020
Poem-sisters August 27, 2020
Three bitter sisters
Decades
Decades
Decades
What planted those seeds
That swelled with pain
Wound* roots
Those wounds** rooting
around around
deep deeper deepest
Shoots spread painful shots
cruel words
Bloom with false faces:
kindness for friends
peevish pieces for families,
never words children
needed to hear.
Three bitter sisters
Broken spirits
planting bitterness
for decades,
seeding
so many sad
children.
*(past tense of wind)
**(synonym of injury)
poem-the dark side of the moon August 24, 2020
too much new
tensions wrapping around psyches
tugging
we’re choking on the changes
fruitlessly fearful
waiting for someone to hear us
Relief.
A sensible plan
Workable ideas
Deep breath.
This might just work
poetry-evening August 22, 2020
frog serenade
swish of wings
whine of mosquitoes
aimless clapping
beside the bonfire.
Snippet from Josh Pantalleresco’s Alice Zero August 13, 2020
Yesterday I posted an interview with Josh Pantalleresco about his book of narrative poetry called Alice Zero. Today, Josh shares a snippet of the book for your enjoyment.
———————————————————-
II
(You are late.)
quiet
can I just sleep?
Dream my dreams
for in them I see…
The loud clanging of the cell
brings me to attention
I am here
I see him and go pale
Ace watches me
his black heart etched on his sleeve
Letting me know
he is in charge
(I want to punch him on the face)
Shhh
he’ll hear us
(I don’t like him looking at us. Do you?)
I shudder
my meal is delivered through the small door
(I wonder what drugs are in here)
I don’t argue any more
some days just blur on by
others are just nightmares
rage and pain and anger
unjoyous madness boils inward
I have to eat the food
I need to drink the water
so what if there are poisons in here
(Lithium gives you nightmares)
It does not!
Oh no!
I said that out loud
he is staring
before long I see the men in white
wearing hearts on their sleeves
carrying needles on their sides
and sticks on their backs
I shouldn’t fight
should be quiet
meek
they’ll go easy on me
(Fuck that.)
But…
(If you won’t fight for you, who will?)
But…
I say no more
the first one tackles me
Eight shoots for my legs
and trips me
the ground feels unyielding
I hit it and struggle to breathe
I am turned onto my stomach
hands bent behind my back
I brace myself for the liquid
dreamless sleep
I hear a voice stop them
halt! She booms
the guards stop
and salute
I gasp
I know that voice
and shudder
(Out of the frying pan. Into the Fucking fire.)
my hair is pulled
blood trickles from my face
I look up and see her
she wears red
her lips painted black
her raven hair braided
her eyes cold and merciless
my jailer
my Queen
she grins at my moment
relishing my torment
she nods
I am swarmed by white
I feel the prick of a needle
and see a shade of crimson
before all goes black.
—————————————————————-
Ooooooh! Did it give you shivers? Here’s the link if you’d like to read more!
Alice Zero
Poem- Summer storm August 1, 2020
This air is thick enough to drown in
Wading through your words
Lightning flashes in the hills like my
anxiety after the press conference.
Summer storm raging.
They announce back to school plans.
I’m watching the hills for forest fires,
fearing the burning.
Brief respite: rain splatters on the back deck,
before oppression descends again,
and our power goes out.
poem- anonymous July 14, 2020
Who are you
generous flower sender?
Encouraging words
Kind thoughts
Huge bouquet
Mystery.
(Lovely words in the card, but no indication of who sent this gorgeous bouquet!)
Comments Off on poem- anonymous
poem-grey June 8, 2020
The first day
my mother did not see
dawned grey and heavy
with dew.
But still the finch greeted me
with its joy at waking to
the new.
poem-wind June 7, 2020
The crows auk auk their condolences
The finch assures that life goes on.
My mother is now spirit in the breeze,
(or the stiff head-wind,
’cause she was stubborn like that).
poem-song June 6, 2020
It is my mother’s second
dying day.
I awaken, heart heavy,
to the house finch’s
happy song.
An accompanist,
as a spirit dances its
release
into eternity.
Shawn L. Bird 