a lady of swollen years
sat knitting with glorious colours
she said her name was
saint something or other
I didn't quite catch it
must have been the gum she was chewing
her lipstick was smeared
anyway I asked what she was making
she said stain glass windows
for the cathedral being built behind her
I wasn't going to believe her
but I couldn't help it
she rolled her next joint
with incredible conviction
Around 2004,
my family and I started
going on vacations to Erie
twice a summer.
Accompanying us on these excursions
were the Jenkinses--
family friends who were more like actual family.
In addition to our typical week at the beach,
they joined us for a sneak peek weekend
earlier in the summer
where we stayed at a hotel by the airport.
We'd sit on the lawn,
watching planes,
us kids running around,
the adults drinking beer.
The outside pool was
our home.
Cole & I would jump into
the deep end ad infinitum,
never ceasing to find the utmost joy
in so simple an act.
He commented on the blonde
strands of hair on my head,
I lied and said that was my natural color--
just wanted to be blonde.
But now the hotel is relegated only to memory;
the long, entrance hallway;
breakfast area where I burnt my mouth
by sipping hot chocolate
through a straw,
like a dumbass,
in 2005.
hands together wrench
separated by a trench
deal could never clinch
the only limits
of what controls tomorrow
are doubts of today
after blowing fuse
we would hear the breaking news
colors come in hews
out window peaking
saw someone out there sneaking
while rumors leaking
what we will propose
when you do have a long nose
mustache under grows
did hear sound of dove
God will give you all His love
from heaven above
had tried counting sheep
our cute cat who is a creep
woke us from our sleep
go to did not dare
were prepared to face a scare
no one will be there
may have happened soon
song which was sung by a loon
baboon on the moon
must remain obscure
when you want to be secure
there could be a cure
need an antidote
when we want a place to vote
should go to Shallotte
Wandering in the woods,I had an epiphany.
My life right now is an opera without a symphony.
The plans I made turned futile,
now my body is exhausted and my spirit has turned immotile.
Dreams sometimes can become your greatest source of misery,
Broken dreams create scars and invisible injury.
My ship of hope has lost its sailor,
it's heading forward in the storm without caring about success or failure.
It happens to all once in a lifetime,
when the decisions of past seem like a crime.
Bawling over what is lost is unavailing,
fruitless is the action of wailing.
Pick up the pieces and join them all,
gather all your strength and rise from the fall.
Life is full of miracles and magic,
it is a tale both happy and tragic.
You are the protagonist of your story,
the pen is in your hand,
make it a dreary yarn or an anecdote full of glory.
Date unknown
Contest name:Your Personal Favourite poetry contest
As we move from the Piscean age into Aquarius
Will mankind accomplish universal brotherhood?
Come together as one, world peace
Within 2000 years, projected, unsure?
Divided, agitated and furious, internally
As citizens, help us, humanity
Macro-level, intellect, reason
Deeper truth, love and prosperity. Cotqueanity
Malice, frigidity, fixed sign, rigidity, stubbornness
Of thought patterns, these set to hinder
Already terrorism and conflict threaten the objective
Belts of the world at war, bombed as a cinder
Principles isolated from the heart, cease this
Negative outlook, give hope, give desire
Those who have gained learning in life utiise it
To accomplish something in life, tear down barbwire
Age of Capricorn coming, bring on the goat
Generations later, reading Age of Aquarius, anecdote