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Marcum Standstill Poem
A
gentle
smile combined
with gentler words
Grace
Copyright © Marcum Standstill | Year Posted 2020
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Marcum Standstill Poem
My cupboard would not be, by any standard held
considered neat or clean, nor free of crumb or dust.
But stores I keep abound, enough to nourish me
and keep me warm on nights, when hope is all but gone.
Across the hall there sits a basement door, unlocked
Where things that should not be await the darkened night
Their thrumming breath pulsates between the door and sill
And sunlight dances on the kitchen floor all day
My weary hands explore and blindly fish about
With each extended palm I strain to make a choice
The shelving seems to stretch as if to mock and scold
And I retreat and turn and kick that basement door
And when the sun has stretched itself from end to end
She’ll tiptoe from the scene and leave her stage deplete.
To let a chill set forth above the wooden berm
beneath the door unlatched, ajar, corrupt, contempt.
A stirring from behind the cupboard door escapes.
Subconscious brutes waylay the precious things I keep
as rations moan and shriek with horrors that don’t speak.
I’d sleep but I cannot for all that heinous noise.
Copyright © Marcum Standstill | Year Posted 2020
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Marcum Standstill Poem
Hugh
A gentle soul, a humble son, shed softly in the garden
Seduced by man, led to betray, a life to pray for pardon.
Tones which spoke, with perfect tune, would pierce his tender marrow
To release joy, or conjure pain, and make his being narrow.
He’d disperse fear from absent light and shadowed misdirection.
He did not learn to seek a sight, nor tangible collection
He built a strong and simple home and slept forever grateful
McGonagle
Copyright © Marcum Standstill | Year Posted 2020
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Marcum Standstill Poem
Waves upon the shore, we break the darkness
Confusing ourselves
Amongst the mingling dwellers of the eve
Absorbed in our discourse
We slip into a sushi bar
Out in the courtyard
A young couple dances
They are synchronized, in collusion
With each step we inhale warm envy
Intoxicated with aspirations
On the streets, we spill our souls
The wet night rings out
With every drop shimmering
Like the surface of your eyes
Trickling into my heart
Copyright © Marcum Standstill | Year Posted 2020
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Marcum Standstill Poem
Gazing at my toes
Soft pendulous rhythm
Caressing dusk’s beauty
Her soft, molten, tangerine dreams
Ferry me
To you
Copyright © Marcum Standstill | Year Posted 2020
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Marcum Standstill Poem
Somewhere to be born
Somewhere to live and grow
Something to pick you up in the morning
Something to help you through the day
Someone to teach you
Some time to think
Someone to support you
Some time to laugh
Someone to punish you
Some time to cry
Something to help you carry on
Something to put you at ease in the evening
Somewhere to sleep
Somewhere to die
Copyright © Marcum Standstill | Year Posted 2020
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