Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions picked from Stone Soup Poetry's open mic readers and features. I figure out a title (and sometimes the rest of the poem) later. You can read the other ones I've done since 2015 here.
I also have an award nominated book out now collecting the best of my first year of poems. Click here to purchase it.
I'm thankful for the open mic this past Wednesday. Short, but we incorporated many voices who weren't part of last Saturday's celebration (more on that later, I hope). Plus, I can write as my usual cynical, mopey self, saving my optimism for...well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?
Not-so-fun fact: I often try to not repeat words. After a few revisions, I finally admitted defeat on the word "to" and just doubled down with the title. Thanks for reading.
To Chew on What's Thrown
How to sum up hope
in three words, without
using "I hate" first.
It's pricy to gather
rosebuds. Soon, they
Free to feed freedom meter,
Resorted to defend
tollbooths to liberty.
Vincent the vulture
circles over to see
who chokes on free will.
There's a centipede's chance
you can slip up even doom,
fall out of tiger's jaw.
Half of world wants you dead
other half wants you alive.
No bipartisan clown cued in.
No love lost, human
race doesn't even want
your xylophone bones.
Birth certificate deemed hoax,
younger self told you so,
older older self quiet like always.
In private prison, they say
you're killing it, knowing
you'll never make love again.
Sky last thing ever kissed
while fumbling for protection
from blame injected into heart.
All they want is your
first step, so that foot
can burn from the sun.
The maze to poor heart
as easy to follow
as a short river.
Grandmother's eyes
daggering their way
toward you even now.
 |
| I wrote David Miller as David Mackler? I was tired. |
Special thanks to David Miller, Bil Lewis, John Sturm, Jan Rowe, Coleen Houlihan, Carol Weston, Chris Fitzgerald, C.C. Arshagra, Ethan Mackler, and James Van Looy.
No comments:
Post a Comment