Short Bag Of Bones Poems

In his closet Mort had a skeleton
  Draped o'er an undelivered Peleton
    A bag of bones himself
    Mort was a Christmas elf
  Dined on doughnut holes atop gelatin...

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Sammy Skelton, a sorry bag of bones
Tried to keep up with Johnny 'Crossbone' Jones 
   He practiced grim groans
   Produced awful moans
Yet never did improve his muscle tone...

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Listen to poem:

"bag of bones"


I wonder if when you look at me
You can't bring yourself to like    the  vanity
Lost  somewhere  inside - 
I wonder if beauty lives..... in you???

Poor old lady; 
-perhaps you should not pass judgment 
For one day
I might be
Just 
Like 
You!

By: PD...

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On sight. On smell.
My body betrays me 
Every hidden switch flicked
Every pulse and button jammed
What is this bag of bones for,  if not to run and run and run from you
Even if I want you gone
out of here tonight
Eyes lock, screws turn
The heart weakens and the mind
rolls over 
to what the rising day holds...

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From the high peak of the middle years

We walk downwards slowly but it’s clear.

We lose our parents siblings other kin

Who will now agree we are born to win?

Our bodies stiffen while we’re yet alive

Who will die,atone,does God decide?

From the man he takes the caring wife

The heart itself will harden in the strife

Last Man standing is a bag of bones

In his grave the king decays alon...

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I am a bag of bones
and you are making a hole
So I could change my course
Lighter with deprivation

I am a bag of bones
But now you are adding weight 
So I could starve to death
On this starry night

I am a bag of bones
Yet you're taking what's mine
I am holding the wall
So all these things won't move too fast

You take saints, martyrs from my head; and misattribution
One bead, then another
And I am... I am figure scating...

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The words are like daggers
And the tears begin to flow
Your hardened heart shows no glimmer
Ceases no light
All you speak is death and darkness
You leave me to die in agony
And quench in piles of trash
I long for something kind and gentle
Like a light switch always swinging into moods
Your corse demeanor your violent explosions 
cracks my heart
Lonely and alone
I sit in silence and live in your remorse
For I'm Just a bag of bones....

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Here is the table 
where thoughts are feathered
to be let loose into a world of storms.

Here is the cloth
used to wipe the many plastic flowers
preserved as false memories.

Look, there is the mind of a traveler
encased in amber,
see how it occasionally 
winks a wee ghost-eye at the sun.

That bag of bones in a niche of moonlight
is what’s left
after a poem has bled out,
leaving only a table and chair
creaking to silence....

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I didn't cry
I disappeared
I reappeared
didn't cry
wasn't until
weeks went by 
that night
I deranged
to heave my broken body
in vain
to free the window of its drape

I didn't cry
collapsed in defeat

I lay tormented for a while
till finally 
I rang
someone came

I sheepishly requested
they draw the curtain aside

my battered bag of bones and I
lay back in a sigh

overcast

and then it happened

I wept with all the gravity of the moon

Alive....

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