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 a book collecting the best of my first year of poems. Click here to purchase it.
Stone Soup happened the day before my birthday. It's Friday, and I'm tired. Not tired because I've been partying since Wednesday. I'm tired because I've been working on a project since April that I'm struggling to complete today. I need to focus, so this poem is later in the day. I'm older, and it's okay for the moment, but all moments are fleeing. That's what I wrote about. Thanks for reading.
Things a Poet Stops Expecting at Age 49 (if he knows better)
Ghosts that hide letters between
pages of every unread manual.
Real truth behind all vows taken,
An overly audible stomach
of sales rep with nothing to lose.
A rude ghost loudly in search of
long lost object of their apology.
That old boss condemned to lie on
a bed as hard as his unmet penance.
Prison lawyer who's come to take
place before you don't survive night.
Shoes with padding and air underneath
to cushion all those life choices.
An unchecked plagiarist who immolates
while trying to repaint stolen words.
A winter rain that only refreshes face
after a morning of shoveling out car.
Krishna returning, renouncing vegan ways
to take up eating your buffet of enemies.
Finally, a check in the mail, a doctor's ransom,
for the eulogy that saved the sender's life.
Special thanks to John Stickney, Bil Lewis, Patricia Carragon, Nancy Dodson, Ed Gault, Julie Marie Hoey, Chris Fitzgerald, Julianne Powers, Carol Weston, Jon Wesick, Kathleen Hulser and C.C. Arshagra.
No comments:
Post a Comment