Poem #15-2010

I ain't got a poem in me today
but I got a hard fire burning
and a cold shoulder to lean into it

I got too many lures
dangling off my pole
and a wide open lake calling for justice

I got inside information
no one wants
and a bony wreath made out of newspapers

I got high end merchandise
to sell the natives
and two fingers crossed behind my back

I got interminable busies
floating on borrowed time
and a broken watch to prove it

I got harsh words a plenty
for them that hurt little children
and a big knife to show 'em I mean it

I got a whopper of a story to tell
woven out of mustard seeds
and stuck between two false teeth

No, I ain't got a poem in me today
but tomorrow may be worse:
I may have to birth one



This poem contributed to dVersePoets Open Link Night.
Follow them on Twitter @dVersePoets.

Poem #14-2010

Listen to the voices, child
inside your muppet head
they're telling you to
try and try and try
until you're cold and dead

Listen to the colors, child
that swirl inside your mind
they're telling you to
paint and paint and paint
until you're old and blind

Listen to the whirling, child
that buzzes 'round your face
it's telling you to
sing and sing and sing
before you lose your way

Don't listen to the noises, child
that walk about your bed
they're telling you to
pray and pray and pray
until Amen is said

Don't listen to the adults, child
who strut and throw their chests
they're telling you to
hide and hide and hide
what is your very best

Don't listen to the poem, child
that tries to set your steps
it's telling you to
lie and lie and lie
'bout you that's coming next

Poem #13-2010

Water is patient
drip       drip       drip
I am not
desire       desire       desire

Be water, my friend
said Bruce Lee
But he never mentioned patience--
only
formlessness
shapelessness
becoming
flowing
and crashing

My small point is made
within the point
Water has no need
for any of these states
If none ever manifest
a drop will stay frozen
until the end of time
and never desire differently

Poem #12-2010

I opened the door
and a day poem greeted me
Singing a familiar song
and lifting my spirit
in a swirl of anticipation
Easy, easy - it is all too much!
Pockets of lazy grass tease me
tempted to wake up
but I know it's still early

There's a certain spring smell:
Wetness. Life. Promise.

May my soul remember its own
transformative power
amidst this mad awakening

May it grow like grass
and give soft landing for
what is to come