NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty, Poem Thirty

Let Go

What will you do
once he's finally gone?

Your body of work
will look more like

NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty, Poem Twenty-Nine

Just Gone

Like poems,
like fake tree,

cannot leave
things to rest,

NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty, Poem Twenty-Eight

Room

Elephant
with you
lunges
for toes,

begs for
stage of
the room
address.

NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty, Poem Twenty-Seven

Open House

By morning
foot prints

leave mark
make tracks

NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty, Poem Twenty-Six

My Obituary Tomorrow

Years at job
replacing
more popular
people.

Haiku

Trying to piss in
paper bag to help me
write self out of it.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Six, Poem Twenty-Five

Strategy

Escapes
can turn
to excrement

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Five, Poem Twenty-Four

Through

Grit teeth
on sand

time you
can't waste.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Four, Poem Twenty-Three

Upon Request

poet will place
down pen

look up
and listen

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Two, Poem Twenty-Two

Enough

All alert
on board
thrown over.

Get along
go along
gone wrong.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-One, Poem Twenty-One

Big Plans

I'll get this right someday.
Reinvent my self
after my entire
high school class dies.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-One, Poem Twenty

Been Done

Jesus had to do it once.
Now they've changed
the doors so they lock
from the inside only.

NaPoWriMo, Day Nineteen, Poem Nineteen

Update: "Update" has been submitted.

 

NaPoWriMo, Day Eighteen, Poem Eighteen

Hallways

Fast or
famine.

NaPoWriMo, Day Seventeen, Poem Seventeen

Indeed

The apostrophe
more open ended
than a question mark.

The diplomat's
constant closer.

NaPoWriMo, Day Sixteen, Poem Sixteen

Tune

One
note
wonder
why

more
hands
block
keys.

NaPoWriMo, Day Fifteen, Poem Fifteen

Lease

Safeword
is Stockholm.

Eyes fold
into blinds.

NaPoWriMo, Day Fourteen, Poem Fourteen

Shape of Days

Circles look too easy
to represent our life.

If  cycles resembled
an isosceles triangle,
our descent to lowest point,
would feel more honest.

NaPoWriMo, Day Fourteen, Poem Thirteen

Laundry Day

What do lovers
do on Sunday?

Same as every
sad sack single.

NaPoWriMo, Day Fourteen, Poem Twelve

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