Snake whispered,cast off the skin to grow,
life forces you to do the same,
shed old version of yours and flow,
evolve into something,you never tamed.
Do not fear your evolution,even small changes -sparks revolution.
when you are not feeling good enough,
remind yourself how far you have come.
Grandma’s ghost has taken up
knitting rattlesnakes in the drapes.
They hiss when someone lies.
Now, my mother only speaks
in noodle metaphors.
I ask her how she is, and she replies,
al dente, then goes back
to stirring the aquarium water
she'll later take a bath in.
My sister gives birth
to a daughter who levitates
during thunderstorms.
She answers to the name Unclaimed Bag.
In other words, we all gather once a year
to shed what’s left of politeness,
to laminate new rules:
No bleeding at the table.
Far less mirrors in the fruit salad.
All grudges must be gift-wrapped,
left at the door with the shoes,
with the husbands.
And when it’s over,
we nod like diplomats,
swap our favorite spells,
(that is to say recipes), pretend
we don't notice the fresh claw marks
on the floor.
It ends when we remember
our names again, who we are.
Then we leave—
each of us, in a different skin.
In this the third
Week of April
I loofahed from top to my toe
Every inch of
my scaly magnificence
bidding the lost parts go
Always loving a monday,
A first,ground zero
A change
Whether August or May
Or dawn of new day
I eagerly sought to know
To be at the pop
that starts a new race
On clean untrod virgin snow
What I sorely
lacked
Was conviction
In the self care
I hoped
To attain
To fall,then to rise
going wiser along
Without starting over again
Using what's gleaned
To propel me
To envision the pot holes and snares
Knowing that life
It is,what it is
Never advertised freely from cares
Not So Amazing Changes
David J Walker
Sometimes I wonder
When I look into the mirror
Who is looking back at me
And who is it I see
In those iPhone pics
Passing around the family?
I don’t recall morphing
The morning when I woke
Early but still un-woke to
The molting of my youth
Ok, in truth I was never sure
When middle age started with
That bulging belly
and ended in a slump
The lump watching the world
change from his couch
The slouch
Sometimes I wonder
Why I have a mirror at all
Just for the recall of the
Not so amazing changes
It's molting season at the White House
Cocks do little do
Birds of a feather do flock
Some suck on cock-
tails made of bitters
Some are sore quitters
Some men cost millions
In tax funded golf
Then "trans"fer the burden
To patriots to get off
Once you're in
It's easy to get out
Just leak the truth
Then watch the clown pout
Soon a full Ban(n) on
Any rational thought
Will be Put(in) to law
Before the guilty are caught
And once the eagle is bare
The new flock of feathered breed
Shall rise with cold stare
As a vulture waiting to feed
Ostracized again
Just as my wings began to mend….
Feathers blow in wind
Shadows shatter on the wall
Peal the lightning,
through it all,
Feel the thunder
Roll
your head,
going under.....
turning red.
down below where none may find you,
chains are falling far behind you.
Dragging trails
of burning embers,
here where only love remembers,
frozen in time's endless grasp,
your metered life expires at last.
Casting off the coils restraining,
only purity remaining,
transcend now the level reaching,
upward to the Master's teaching,
Opening your eyes and mind
seek a new world..................
yours to find.
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.