National Poetry Month Celebration 2019 - Post Poems Here!

[Tracy Mitchell]

#1


Driving Home

~

[Tanglepuss]

#1

"Rusty"

I pick up my guitar.
All the songs I've ever played
collide in my brain, in my fingers.
The lyrics, a traffic-jam in my throat.

Like untangling a skein, 
I find some words and notes
that go together.

Soon my fingertips whine, remind
they aren't as strong as strings.

[Tracy Mitchell]

Amy!!

Welcome and cheers -- nice opening poem!
Glad you are here.

T

[Sharon Leigh]

.


Mohs




You are only gypsum
today, pale as straw
and as fragile. One tumble

from the table enough
to scatter your champagne
crumbs along the floor.

I tried to tell you,
there's something about 5 years.
Divorce, or the big C, these

succumb to time, to
the pressures of quinto.
Before long you'll coalesce

layer upon layer, striated
strength, sediment -- you'll lie
in patient splendor like the rest of us.


.

[Gyppo]

layer upon layer, striated
strength, sediment -- you'll lie
in patient splendor like the rest of us.

 

Yes, time is a healer.  Even if memory persists.

[Sharon Leigh]

layer upon layer, striated
strength, sediment -- you'll lie
in patient splendor like the rest of us.

 

Yes, time is a healer.  Even if memory persists.

Exactly, John. I wrote with my sister in mind, who is going through some difficult times. But it's true of all of us

[Colm Roe]

Two used coffee cups stand on our kitchen table.

One empty. The other half full.

There is just enough space between them

for two entwined hands and a lie

I am only now beginning to understand.

 

I spill grains of powder into the filter,

watch heated water drain through steam

into the pot, leave a sludge of coffee.

The aroma is all distant hills

and half-remembered whispers;

 

you skirting the questions, answers

more fog than clear day. We never

drifted, but at some moment came apart.

I realise now a heart hates a void,

yours sought to fill it without me.

 

Sad read...but a good start.
 

[Colm Roe]

#1


Driving Home

Absolutely loving this T...SO much to enjoy here.

[Sharon Leigh]

Messages

..........

I wonder about the rain on my roof,
its tension and release at once,

those particular drops
in that particular order.

And the wind,
how it must carry something -

a kiss or a song,
the steam of someone’s herbal tea,

perhaps the scent of a woman’s hair
or the stench of a vagrant.

Then the audacity of decay
to be lovely -

girders rust, planks rot
in certain patterns;

some nails are rocked loose,
others are spared.

How is it decided?
I wait for the sake of waiting

with questions that are only mine.

This is beautiful, I am captivated

[Colm Roe]

April 1, 2019, One

Nice one L.
It's all good...but I love the last S