National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!

[Colm Roe]

Triolet 27

She visions a new fence and gate.
I squint, see the checkbook empty.
She feels my glare a sign of hate.
She visions a new fence and gate. 
She comforts her heart's fear of hate.
I soften a regretting sorry.
She visions a new fence and gate.
I squint, see the checkbook empty.

Marcel, the cheque book never wins 
Love it!

 

[indar]

April 29 (still a day ahead because who knows what tomorrow will bring )

Gabriel, for God's Sake Blow Your Horn:
or
Understanding Divine Intervention

Why is there almost universal agreement
that angels are beautiful and kind:
that they save, refine, enlighten
individuals by sheltering them from evil?

How explain the dust devil that whirls
discarded burger wrappers, burnt-out butts,
plastic bags into stunned faces

or the specter of an animal carcass,
eyeless sockets accusing, caught in the snarl
and rust of abandoned barbed wire

or the angry challenge hurled by a man,
from a morning doorway,
filthy, urine-stained, hair matted
beset by delirium tremens

or the border guard who believes he
is saving America as he lifts a terrified
two-year-old from her mother's arms?

[Colm Roe]

We're nearly there people, just two days to go. Please join us then in the NaPo Bar & Grill for a chat...and maybe even a Jagermeister or two when Tracy returns 
viewtopic.php?f=522&t=1282

[binx]

4/28 poem

All around her
are petal-less flowers,
frozen puddles,
a sunless morning

She alone hears birds,
the knockings on her door

[Colm Roe]

30 ways to die.
#29

Slice a piece of bread,
even when stale and crusty 
and the blade is dull
how easy it succumbs
to the slice 
of a jagged edge.

It's all too easy
this dying.
A gentle pierce
in the wrong place,
hardly a thing at all,
so little effort.

Make a headstone.
Blow after blow
steel on steel
hard granite yields slow
in small stinging fractures,
it'll dust you, ruin your eyes
and catch your lungs in spasms,
over time
raising these crosses 
will only break your back.

Ordering a headstone...
now there's a thing.

 

  

[indar]

Ordering a headstone...
now there's a thing.


Just past a toll bridge on a small road over the border from Iowa to Missouri there is a very old graveyard. I had to stop ther on one of my regular trips. The headstones read like the National Enquire.ONE I remember gave the name of the deceased: followed by the message he died of clap: "serves him right". Apparently a culture of true confessions, retribution and small town gossip grew up around this graveyard.

[Gyppo]

Napo 29 - 2019

Terri

She grew up in a family of brothers,
three of them.  Not inherently violent,
but their Dad taught them all to box.

Finely controlled and balanced pugilism,
handing down the 'manly art' of his generation.
A quiet man, but not one to mess with
as many a belligerent drunk discovered.

He saw no reason his daughter,
a proper little Tomboy,
should be excluded from the training,
and boasted like hell when she, 
like a lithe bouncing shadow,
slipped one under his guard
and bloodied his nose.

In time she grew, as some tomboys do,
into a tall and statuesque lass
with a calm demeanour,
one who avoided unwanted trouble,
but walked without fear.

But I still recall when a school bully,
a swaggering 'hard man',
grabbed at her budding bosom
and was felled instantly,
with one precise little jab to the chin
as the entire playground watched.

No fuss, no warning,
and no bragging afterwards.
She just carried on talking to her friends
as if nothing had happened.
Job done, finished.
As was the lad's reputation.

Gyppo

[Deb]

I have three possibilities today and chose the worst to post. I'm too tired to flesh anything entertaining and meaningful out of so many ideas. I've written six pages to develop after we get settled in. Please excuse my excuse. I'm so sick of moving.

Uprooted

I hope I live long enough to enjoy a home of my own
as long as I won’t be alone.

Plant me where I can see the seasons change.
Is this dream within my range?

In my mid 50’s I’m about to embark on move 33.
Uprooted too many times, it’s hard to be
settled, safe, secure -
a path the average person is not made to endure.

Looks like I’ll be forced to roam
and long for a place to call my home.

~Deb
 

[Lecram06]

Triolet 29

The verdict is in.
The die is cast.
Forgo chagrin.
The verdict is in.
It's time to swim
The ocean vast.
The verdict is in.
The die is cast.

[Lecram06]

I have three possibilities today and chose the worst to post. I'm too tired to flesh anything entertaining and meaningful out of so many ideas. I've written six pages to develop after we get settled in. Please excuse my excuse. I'm so sick of moving.

Uprooted

I hope I live long enough to enjoy a home of my own
as long as I won’t be alone.

Plant me where I can see the seasons change.
Is this dream within my range?

In my mid 50’s I’m about to embark on move 33.
Uprooted too many times, it’s hard to be
settled, safe, secure -
a path the average person is not made to endure.

Looks like I’ll be forced to roam
and long for a place to call my home.

~Deb
 

Deb, The line "Plant me where I can see the seasons change" holds my attention, demands a quiet reflection, and invites compassion. Marcel