Stone Soup Croutons is a weekly poem I write using lines and impressions selected 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.
A nice open mic this past Wednesday. Even better with repeated listening.
I missed last week's Crouton poem and don't want to miss this one.
I have a feeling that this week's is indicative of the mood the rest of the poems will have for the rest of the year. That includes the poems for the past weeks I've missed.
In a perfect world, all the poems would be finished this weekend.
As the last few weeks have shown, this is not a perfect world.
Thanks for reading.
As We Count Down
Not much left
but to see
if Trump
head of your
mother-in-law
who they just
dragged out
mid-procedure
while niece
in background
asks out loud
Where's Nana?
More grabbed
More grabbed
from homes
no longer theirs
all roads leading
to prime time
doomwatch
with last of
holiday food
in our mouths
while Scrooge
reduces Marley
to quivering
fish on dock
while he sings
a song of
bought victory
consequence
shot in street.
Sound bite
funerals now
looped over
holiday dirge
while America
makes disease
great again
pours salt on
earth then you.
All around sofa
and armchair
are ledges
as Trump team
and science
have rap battle
over which
earth law
will be void
so we can do
old man dance
in zero gravity.
Special thanks to Ricard Spisak, Jackie Oldham, Bil Lewis, Jan Rowe, Nike Truth, Edward S. Gault, Robert Fleming, Mary Ann Honaker, Jon Wesick, Ethan Mackler and James Van Looy.
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