MUSIC SERIES – Skipping Stones

This poem was inspired by Midna’s Lament from The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. If you have a song you think I should write a poem about, drop it in the comments!

 

Skipping Stones

 

Between the ether of everyday smiles

is an evening spent on a secluded lake

looking at the ripples in the reflected starlight

like paint on ever blackening surface waves.

 

I might even skip a rock across the top

to see how far along it will struggle

before the hollow waters swallow it

and all the heavy ideas that it carried.

——

 

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LOVE POEM #96 – Wrath

Wrath

 

We kindled our flames with kisses,

but as my fires grew unkempt

wild blazes cauterized your lips

leaving you calloused and broken.

 

Read the other two sins I’ve written about here: Pride and Gluttony

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Future Reflections

The mirror echoed, “who?”

When my voice caught in my throat, the glass turned into a black corridor and swallowed me. I padded down the darkness to an old, decaying wood door.

And behind the door, I saw a feeble looking man. He pointed at me and called out, “you!”

——

 

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Cat on the Table (and Other Haikus)

Table Outside

Gliding through the dust,

my fingers draw a smile

in the table dirt.

 

Morning Coffee

So much depends on

the small, yellow coffee mug

perched on the counter.

 

Boy with a Hose

The boy with the hose

spots me walking by his house,

smiles, then sprays me.

 

Packing Bags

My life would seem lame

were it not for the novel

peeking from the bag.

 

Cat on the Table

A leap to the chair

then one more to the table

just to say hello.

——

 

Hello there!

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MUSIC SERIES – Dream Halls

Happy Monday! This poem was inspired by Led Zeppelin’s “No Quarter.” Is there a song you’d like me to write about? Let me know in the comments!

 

Dream Halls

 

The candle wax swallowed the fire hours ago

and Nótt swayed our little flame hours before.

She sent him back to his sleeping quarters

to dream about your slight chance of survival.

 

It’s good to let him dream, isn’t it Mother?

Even as the nightmares ride down the mountain,

it’s good to let him dream of a place in the sky

where he can march with you to your new halls.

——

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Black Heart / No More Tears

I saw myself in the mirror, teary eyed, and swelled with disgust. I rinsed my face, stood up straight, and plunged my right arm into my left breast. I tore the heart out, spurting blood on the countertop, and injected it with black dye. There would be no more tears.

——

 

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Dog Food Bowls (and Other Haikus)

Closer to Heaven

Sitting on the roof,

hands resting on the shingles;

legs hanging freely.

 

Telling Her

Typing the message

was like riding a new bike;

sending was crashing.

 

A Poem About You

A child at heart,

skipping through the sentences

like they were a stream.

 

Reminded in Nature

I picked the pink rose,

thinking that its smooth petals

smelled like your perfume.

 

Dog Food Bowls

I hear them bouncing

against the rigid cement

while the boys run by.

——

 

Hello there!

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MUSIC SERIES – The Three-Hundreds

This poem was inspired by Touch of Grey by the Grateful Dead, so make sure you check that out. Let me know if you have a song that you think would make a great poem! 🙂

 

The Three-Hundreds

 

Time to take these dusty stairs again;

to drag one foot in front of the other

up to the dreary three-hundreds

where the square footage is half the rent.

 

Mom still has the TV set running

though she’s passed out in the recliner

with a pocketful of empty-headed pills

and another pink paper in her hands.

 

But at least the pouring rain is held back

behind the curtains for another night

and the heating unit is burning

enough to keep the cold at bay.

——

 

Hello there!

 

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LOVE POEM #94 – Pride

Pride

seeps into the well like poison,

shriveling the purple blossoms

and slowly your Yggdrasil bent,

pulsing with the plumes of decay.

——

 

Hello there!

 

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FIFTY WORD STORY – Tandem Horseback Riding

It is hard to forgive someone riding on horseback. The long silence of the terrain is like fire to a kettle, slow boiling the water till it bubbles over the sides in half-said remarks. Yet the fresh air of your newfound smile was like a cool wind, quenching the flames.

——

 

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