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Best Poems Written by Autumn Rose Wood

Below are the all-time best Autumn Rose Wood poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Petty

But they already had a cat
ME
Meow
How could they
Making me share my chow
My bed
My toy rat with the ripped head
My nip, my nap, my blue blanket with the frayed ribbon

I don't know if I can ever forgive em.

But they already had a reader in the group
ME
M is for Mitten, can't you see
We did not need an Elenore 
She steals my lines and interrupts my joke
She makes me gag 
She makes me choke
She sat in my chair

How will I go on from here

But they already chose first chair
ME
My violin solo was so sweet
Now I have to share
Not fair
No treat
Another fiddler I can't beat
The agony of broken bows and stepped on feet

I have no harmony left inside of me

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Knit Wit

Well is it a wonder
That I like to 
Crochet
And purl
After all I am a writer
and have always enjoyed a good yarn

The rhyming, the rhythm
The soft sigh of wool against 
The needles
So right
Tight

Loosen my grip
On life
On reality
On nothing
Spinning that into something
And feeling the stress slip away

Thanks so much Mandy,

What more can I say?

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Plainspoken Poetry

So I'm not pretty
Like my ribbon and pearls and flower bedazzled sisters
So I'm plain
Without frills or twirls or swirls of vivid hues 
So I stand out with my arms open wide
Hiding nothing
So I don't have stanzas and rhymes and schemes aplenty

Does that make me unworthy
Does that make me less
Does that make me unattractive at best

Am I not still art

So I tell it like it is

Tell me what is wrong with that?

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A Singing Moment, Instead of a Shining One

Counting Crows
Someone else’s song and dancing anyway
I know that I have my own music
Somewhere singing inside the brightest corner of my soul
HS, as one of my many aunts calls the Holy Spirit,
Whispers	
Way to go
“Nah Nah Nah Na, yeah”
To borrow a lyric

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Notice

I stood in line with women
A few men waited
But mostly the people around me had curves and femininity
The morning begun cool but warmed as the sun took her throne
The temperature change was like the change that overcame 
The strangers
At first silent
Looking straight
And then slowly sharing
Stories
Truth
Seeing each other
A kind woman offered snacks to the small fussing children
She had grandbabies.
We were all here 
Hoping for the same result
But for different reasons, different circumstances
Situations
One woman explained that she kept renting houses that were forclosed.
One was on the news the night before at the Interfaith Shelter, already homeless.
Some had little ones and looked much too young

*Poet's note

This was longer and tied more firmly into the title before I lost this poem in cyberspace
I write fictional poetry occassionally, but this one is not that. This is vulnerablity and I am not 
strong enough to rewrite it in its entirity again. Please don't judge this yet. It isn't finished.

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Washing Feet

Sunday school activity
Making paper mache 
And like a disciple or Jesus
Playing the servant
In turns
Bent over plastic tubs 
Of soapy water

A foggy memory
Like blowing bubbles

The towels were fluffy
Terry cloth
Recently someone said Jesus wore linen
Toga party
Like the Greek Gods?

Wonder at the words that Aristole would whisper
Wonder if T.S.Eliot would take the time to talk
Wonder when Mr. Miller stopped believing

The philosphoher, the poet and the playwright
Have they ever played with clay?

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Food

Cheesy potato
With a side of Banger or ham
Crepes for dinner, breakfast and lunch
Brunch? Blueberry muffins and quiche
Hungry?

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Grin and Bear It

Shyly                                              Loudly
          Smiling                    Laughing
                     in the face of 
                     Disapointment


  Go              Go
    Little stuffed
    Friend, open
     Your arms
        I'll cry 
You'll hug the bad and
         It will all
         Go Away!



Dedicated to my mother. She insists that Teddy Bears make life bearable!

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Feeling Light

Like a feather
Floating, not flat on the ground with footprints or children's grimy grasping hands
Fluttering the battered fibers in the weak wind
Like a kite
Flying, not frustratingly tangled in a tree with fights or children's tear streaked face
pleading 
For mom or dad or some adult to get the thing free fast
Like a child
Carried on a loved ones shoulders, an older brother, or sister
An Aunt or Uncle
Lovingly showing this small one how to reach the stars in the sky
Like a soul safe in God's hands

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Memory Lane

A broken sign
Three hungry mocking ravens
And the bones of the past