Spent
By Sy Roth
Her ears still tremble with the sounds
Shocked into somnolence gasping to make sense.
The giddy bassist a rue of flapping gums missing the flats,
The drummer’s lips moving in asynchronous confusion--
But seem excited
She a carved, lost soul curved by existence.
Puffs of Kool smoke rising in O’s frame the scene
Off camera, and she feels dejected
Her voice a raspy concordance of ills
Of the world she just flagellated.
They stirred the fatalistic mob into a nihilistic frenzy
Tired arms from their robust gyrations
Oily hair whipping their brows
A spent ecstasy of ejaculated postulations
As the air quieted to a dull roar
And they waited for the next round of guttural pronouncements.
She is bent with the effort,
Grainy hair framing an awe-shocked brow
Unsatisfied now
The quiescent instruments and amps no longer giving voice.
Her voice now shuttered---
Bandmates off to share brewskis and medicinal snorts.
Her song long gone.
Spent, she waits for a comforting hand,
None to be found.
A solitary creature waiting in the never-ending waiting room
Spent.
Today we made kindness creatures in first grade.
On Videos, from our houses, for Wednesday is an asynchronous day.
They were to draw a creature and tell us about their super powers.
There were only ten six year olds, but it was a great activity.
They love to draw, and they love to color.
Also, they love to share.
We ran out of super power shares,
so they told about thing they do that are kind.
One little girl “I help my grandma wash her dog.
It’s fun, and it’s a work out too.”
Another little boy took us on a video walk, showing us his mom and his twin toddler brothers.
Almost being with first grade is always a joy!
Nuptial origami
Asynchronous betrothal
Wedlock Houdini
Tucked in the gray mob, safe, sound and asleep.
An eternity of time never marked.
Dimly recalled eon of forest deep.
When all else is still, the whispered voice, “Hark!”
Restlessness dances between heart and mind,
Throat clenches tightly as the yearning wells.
Stolen window glance from my place in line,
But nose to grindstone, now, duty compels.
Yet yearnings boil blood in hypnotic tune,
Quickening pulse drowns out electric hum.
Compelling daydreams of the hunt and moon.
Hands and feet become paws, the will to run.
And then vivid magic, the sacred breath.
Stealthy movement becomes my spirit guide.
Sounds of the chase crowd out the looming death,
Dizzy breathless clifftop, vista looms wide.
Somewhere below lies the collar and yoke,
Happy casualties of manifest urge.
Shed for the moment, vanished as if smoke.
Blessed exhaustion, the demons are purged.
Back to the pack changed, it was never mine.
Satisfaction behind secretive grin.
There is no why if you cannot divine
The asynchronous drumbeat from within.
Today is sublime…
Tearing at the flesh of yesterday,
falling, asynchronous, in the hour of ruin.
Screams dissolve into crimson flow;
mechanical men guard in smoky rows;
demons tempt with savory sins
as frozen smiles reflect from the hell
within the tides of murky waters.
My eyes burn. My throat swells.
My spirit’s scarred from restraint…
Today is sublime…
Sucking at the marrow of the absolved,
sinking, prisoners smell burnt flesh
and quiver with fright,
choking on the sinew and stench.
Screams sear in crimson rooms,
seducing the rabid dogs
from the depths of dank tombs.
My eyes burn. My throat swells.
My spirit’s scarred from restraint…
Today is sublime…
In the misty garden, we slither…let’s celebrate.
**Heavy Metal Music
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 10/8/13
for Nette Onclaud’s Groove It! Contest
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.