Best Addresses Poems
"Oh," she whispers, "but she's here with a boy!" Her words, especially the painted blue one, stick to her palm covering her lips and mouth, I lace my fingers through yours and this happens simultaneously on opposite sides of the room, we look at each other and smile, the suppressed laughter in our mouths a balloon blown so full it's about to pop,
It pops.
You're not all boy.
We laugh because she saw you from far away, she saw you and your hair that basically spells out either, 'lesbian,' or, 'boy,' across your forehead.
I look at your eyes. I tell you: Jesus, she thinks you're a boy and she thinks I'm straight we've neeever been in this situation before.
We laugh.
And, oh, that waitress that one time said, "thank you sir," when you handed her your credit card, her words overflowing with poisonous flirtation, spilling out of her mouth along with a biohazardous receipt, Her fingertips brushed yours as she handed it to you,
She didn't know. Painful ignorance.
After she left, you asked, "So is she a lesbian? Or..."
I didn't have the heart to tell you that she thought you were all boy.
I also didn't have the heart to believe the waitress didn't know she was feeding us poison.
you acted like it was nothing, but I, like, internally growled or something because the only two people who are this protective over someone else are moms and girlfriends.
She whispers, "Oh, but she's here with a boy!" and the blue word caresses our cheeks like your thumb and mine, currently participating in some sort of passive aggressive thumb makeout session because that's a nervous habit we have when we hold hands.
And we have the words "boy" and "lesbian" written across our foreheads, so it's a good thing I focus on your eyes.
Southern*
My Christian friends, in many ways,
are what they should be.
They pray, participate in church,
spend time on their knees,
support the church and mission fields,
and spread the Good News**
in hopes those not in church will come
and fill up our pews.
They gladly go out of their way
to do a good deed,
provide new clothes and groceries
for many in need.
Will they help blacks--or only whites?
They’ll help ANYone,
but some are racists in their hearts.
If you want to stun
them, tell them so; they won’t admit
they are, for they know
that prejudice and love don’t mix.
The Bible says so.
How can I tell they’re prejudiced?
Sometimes they will say
veiled comments that jump out at me
and give them away.***
I really doubt that anyone
is completely free
of prejudice. It’s not innate,
but taught. We must see
the need to confess it and pray
“God, please cleanse my heart
of prejudice. Fill me this day
with pure love for all.”
*Southern United States
**The Gospel of Jesus Christ
***As a prime example, I’ve often heard something like this: “He (she)
is black, but I think the world of him (her).” BUT?!
June 16, 2021
Contest: Jaundiced Eye
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
I’m thrilled to have my students joining me
for milk and cookies on this lovely day.
For fun we will pretend it’s scones and tea.
The maid has left our tray. Without delay
we’ll eat and chat; then for a while we’ll play.
For table manners, each of you has earned
a gold star. You’re so pleasant and polite,
not like my brothers, who have never learned
how to behave at tea time. They’re a sight!
They need to be in charm school day and night.
You’ve come so far. On your first days of class,
you growled and hissed. You were so rough and loud
Now you’re quite cultured. You don’t sulk or sass
when I give you instructions. I am proud
to say I think you’d all impress a crowd!
Urban dictionary: marm. a British word meaning an old school teacher
picture 4
October 31, 2021
Rhyming Me a Poem 2 contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
You would not have dared look into my face
When it wore flesh and scowled
Upon the world your people forced on me,
You sons of Mammon,
You children of Ivied Privilege.
I was Terror to the Mexican,
The name their tongue gave me
Became a word for courage in your own -
Yet you pampered ones,
Who would never see
The troglodyte face of battle,
Sending others in your place for that -
Would dare to steal my very bones
To serve your ceremonies to wealth and ease.
My skull and bones may be
In your weak, profane hands,
But they have never served your ends.
Even in death I yawn
At what you consider power,
At the piles of shifting sands
You move about to raise your little thrones.
I lived and laughed where you would have died;
The Earth my throne
The Sky my crown.
My remains are not for the likes of you,
Not pieces for your foolish games.
Gothalay bids you send his bones home where they belong
Shame yourselves no more!
Little boys,
Playing with fire,
Begging to be burned!
Wow The many email addresses
I can’t even stress enough the
importance of having more
than one use your cat name your
dog bird grandma grandpa
change your email accounts reset
change your passwords cause
hackers will break in your
home lock you out of your own
email address I use different
email addresses for different
things medical church poetry
manuscripts family and friends
either way rather 123@me
or 321@Karma be consistent
be creative soar be different
protect your poetry protect you
Frankenstein was not afraid
of the creature that he made.
He grinned, and kindly said,
"Put a smile on your ugly mug.
Lighten up, you big ol' lug".