I saw a horse,
the other day,
walking on powerlines,
diving into the ocean,
drinking sea water.
It stood on the railway,
facing the train,
that barreled towards it.
I thought the horse,
so tired of defying limits,
would lay down and die
right then and there.
But it stepped onto a rainbow,
and rode into the sky.
Wouldn't you kill to be this horse?
Rising above it's seared
scars,
proving it's will to heavens,
so much they had let it in?
I realize humanity was a born a horse,
that it locked up in a stable,
to haul wagons
until it's back broke.
The row of hydro flasks standing proud on seminar desks,
The red splat outside the door of our flat made
Coz they wouldn't let me put my pressure cooker into venting mode in the kitchen.
Venting mode is what my flatmates are switched to coz of my mess one day,
But the next they are chuckling
'Bout how I mopped without getting the crud off the floor.
It is knocking on each others' doors with our fists when sober,
Flopping in when drunk.
It is thinking, wow, since my flatmate won't date me,
Her boyf must be a real hunk.
University is the range of washing up liquid colours
And the cluster of tomatoey scran in the freezer,
But also Groundhog Day with linguistics lecturers asking us
What we call a bread roll and how we say ‘bath’.
When will I wash it all off?
tiger like striping
forearm looks like a white tree trunk
finger leaves at tip
smooth and half way warm
polka dotted with freckles
tiny grandma hands
life’s a rush,
and i’m in the middle of it.
sixteen—
they call it the flower of youth,
but honestly, i just feel like
my roots pushing through stone,
small, stubborn,
aching for light
in a world too heavy.
the clock runs faster than me.
classes, books, exams,
every note i take feels like
a brick i’m laying
for some future house
i don’t even know the shape of.
my mind is hungry,
i feed it every day.
words, poems, philosophers,
all the questions nobody dares to ask out loud.
i’m trying to make myself
into something solid,
while still soft enough
to feel everything.
sometimes it’s beautiful
the thought that i’m blooming,
that every word i write
is a petal unfolding in silence.
sometimes it’s terrifying,
what if i bloom too late,
or bloom wrong,
or the world never even notices i grew?
and still, i run.
sometimes without knowing
where the finish line is.
but maybe that’s the point,
that life isn’t about the answers,
it’s about the rush,
the blooming,
the daring to grow
while time refuses to slow down.
and maybe, just maybe,
one day i’ll look back
and see that all along
i wasn’t just running—
i was becoming.
Seven grandchildren, each studying their own science courses
I understand some of them, but am fuzzy about the other sources
astrology is being studied by Ellen, yes astrology
I think of her when I look into the sky; it interests me
Geology makes sense for Brian, he has collected rocks since five
But cryptology for Landon does not make sense or jive
He was never one to keep a confidence or demand privacy of any kind.
Biology makes sense for Dorothy, she has a plant-producing mind.
Drake who adores animals is going into thematic zoology
An herbalist, Jackie is studying of course, herbology
What about psychology? I ask, this was my study of choice.
No, I’m going into glossology, said my sassy granddaughter, Joyce.
Pathology? Psychology? Technology? I ask them and they laugh.
So many ologies, and none of them are taking the exact same path.
azure kitten face
found in cloudy atmosphere
calmed by pale blues
“But, for my own part, it was Greek to me”
Julius Ceasar Act 1 scene 2 by Shakespeare
trying to study the language of ancient Attica
is like studying all the rules in mathematica
it is all Greek to me!
What are you studying? I asked two co-eds.
One is getting a masters in tissue removal.
The other is getting a bachelor’s degree in pillowcase warfare.
Raising a whole new slew of questions.
What is the little calf studying? We asked Farmer Blue.
Don’t ask me, his university college is down in Kalamazoo.
Always looking in those financial books, unsure why,
Says he might wander off to become a corporate guy.
Keep studying the Word, my friend,
For in it lies a powerful blend
Of truth and knowledge, wisdom and light
To guide your path both day and night.
Let it seep into your very soul
And watch as its mysteries unfold
Revealing secrets hitherto unknown
That will lead you to a life full-blown.
Study to show yourself approved
Of God and His ways so pure and true
Let His Word become your daily bread
And give you sustenance to forge ahead.
For, in studying you'll find the tools
To launch yourself from heavenly rules
And learn to walk in purity
As you seek to live in victory.
So, keep studying the Word each day
And let its truths light up your way
For in it lies the key to all success
And the power to truly live and bless.
My 20-year-old-son told me
he had chosen a new 'Study Abroad' program for next semester
He left me wondering ~
What was wrong with the broad he'd been studying this past semester?
(Groaning yet?)
Grace searched Yang with her eyes
And observed only size.
God knows she's not racial;
This Yang is not special...
Soon, she'll test him with food,
As his first exam good:
preferably an oat meal;
How with it he would deal:
If he'll nibble at it
Or pounce on it and split!
But Yang too watches her.
"She has with men gone far,
Mere veil her coat of fur;
Her first request: New Car!"
The lone wolf was in a grouchy, grumpy, hungry mood
Snow rabbits were much faster than he remembered
He studied their hop slides in the frosty snow
These rabbit's foot marks were diminishing as he studied them
When did rabbits get so fast? He asked his wife.
Her distaff side of the family would have laughed at this.
Female wolves are better hunters, and they all knew it.
Lone wolf had a let's-save-face epiphany.
Maybe the rabbits let you catch them, he suggested.
His mate gave him a slow side look. She knew better.
The waning footsteps sparkled like rhinestones in the moonlight.
I hunt better in the spring, he told his wife, convincing no one.
In colors this canvas reminds me of our plastic card table cover
The one in reds and blacks that helped us to learn bridge
Mom did not need it; she was an avid bridge player
But Daddy and the rest of us did. This is what I saw on first glance.
I had not thought of this card table cover in fifty years!
Next I spied my usual doddles – swirls, whorls, dragon zigzagging spikes
This looks like what I do when I am held hostage on a phone call
Usually by my great aunt, but sometimes by a wordy neighbor
Doodling on speed, is how I think about it.
If I had a nickel for every one of these I have drawn!
The blacks and whites are prominent.
Bits of red seem intentional, not as accidental as the lines.
Not sure where the greenish yellow color came from
Something mixed up by the artist perhaps,
Unsure if it even has a name.
Verdant trees amid giant grasses
Swirling in the wind, loving their life
Azure sky matching ocean’s whirls
Showing off in a lively canvas
Who is the artist? What was he thinking?
So much green; refreshing; eager, young.
Blue is a prominent close second.
Kindness, empathy, loyalty
The lavender lends romance to the painting
So he has a love and is not afraid to mention it.
Red hint…..possible soldier or is he flamboyant?
I stare at the painting, wondering about him.
The swirls and whirls tell me of an artist’s mind.
He is fearless, bold; confident in his choices.
This is an artist who knows himself.
And now I know a tiny bit of him also.
Sub Categories
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.