Friday, September 09, 2022

Stone Soup Croutons, 9-7-22: How to Inform Roommates of Impending End

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.

This week's been better than most. I'm slowly finding my mojo again. I was able to write nearly the notes for this week's poem on Wednesday night, only going back to listen to the last part of the video this morning.

Chuckled to myself writing this. Been a while since I even amused myself. Thanks for reading.

How to Inform Roommates 
of Impending End

Self-anointed matriarch 
lives to mandate mutually 
assured destruction. 

Now ISO Dancing Bear, 
mandatory chore wheel
to mind its wilderness.

Every fifth Wednesday,
someone has to rewrite
a Shakespeare play.

It's freedom to write
as someone who might
not have existed. 

Only the facts are 
worth saving while 
reality's in flames.

Request a guitar for own 
dirge. Supply burning man.
Someone will carry water.

Viking Funeral helps you.
cut ocean into atmosphere,
a surfboard scholar.

No one can be at rest
with all the elements 
playing in your face.

Now forced to inhale, 
once stagnant blood 
turns to wild river.

How long before 
people stop pretending
to revere a room?

Former best friends
ready to reprimand.
Fire's a tricky metaphor,

can strike you down
to streets, hold warmth
during winter move.

Welcome, Annette!

Special thanks to Jon Wesick, Nancy Doeson, bil Lewis, Chris Fitzgerald, Julianne Powers, Ed Gault, Carol Weston, Ethan Mackler, Annette Tarpley and James Van Looy.

No comments: