Unexpected

Slipping on June sidewalks and falling

Through thin ice in

My life of

Fingers holding on for all they are worth

For Carry on Tuesday #109

Momma's Prayer

You invertebrate

Posin’ in some fancy exoskeleton that ain’t yours

I’m no conchologist

So don’t think I won’t out you

Yes I know the words

You scumopod scavenger

My boy’s a marine biologist

I put him through school

You were doin’ time

A dime plus

Remember

What you hidin’

You shouldn’t come near the beach if you scared

I know who you are

You ain’t changed

That colorful little shell

Doesn’t hide your smell

Darkness has no spine

If you real

Squirm out

But don’t be playin’ MY boy for his shells

Quit usung what ain’t yours

Be gone

I can forgive

But I can’t turn my eye to your shell game

You leave on out with the next tide

And go back to the depths you crawled out of

I’ll be prayin’

I can do that

Maybe you can find a spine

And stand tall like a man should

But until that day

Leave before I forget I went to church Sunday

Amen

For Magpie Tales #69

Rain Check

Sarah Joncas

I’m not in the mood for alluring

Or enchanting this evening

Or stories of devious torsos contorted in sensuous twists of flesh

I don’t want my fantasy wish to come true

Especially involving the lotus position

And its kinship with other bold and strange offers of seduction

I am actually inspiring some other bed sharing activity

SLEEP

I’m tired

My job is sucking life out a drop at a time

But can I get a rain check?

For Wordle 8, The Sunday Whirl

My Kingdom

I am the emperor

Iceberg cold

I survive

Like a king

Ruling alone

Ordering myself about

I have total control

All power

I am the man

The ruler of my domain

Who needs you

I don’t cry for Argentina

Stay there all you want

I am not insane

I have my castle of ice

My throne of blue

Look at my cathedral

When I speak my own voice returns in fading waves of subjection

I march to the beat of my own heart

I will not apologize

Even at forty below zero

Some say I cried this castle with frozen tears

But they lie

And it’ll be off with their heads

When I find them

I did not cry

This is my home

I am the emperor

My kingdom is pride

For Jingles Poetry Potluck

With What Remains

Josh Summers

With what remains

I kneel in dirt, so dusty, so dry, so creek-bed-dead

I cry

I breathe in ash, so cinder, so charred, so colorless gray

I pray

I bleed

With what remains

Drops of blood splash

On barren earth in time with my wristwatch

Tick

Parched pale land swallows each red

Drip

A thirst never quenched, a glut with no

Quit

I plead

With what remains

______

I fled

Yesterday

Rotting in a pine box

So much

In the past

I knelt on gold, so bright, so bold, so filthy rich cold

I lied

I drank fine wine, so dry, so smooth, so sate with pride

I died

Like a loosed leaf

Dried

I saw what remained of me

In a creek bed

Dead

______

I plead from what is left

Mercy … God … please

Forgive

Grant another step

Consume time survived

Like a seed

In your garden of life

And if I bloom in spring

Let my reflection

Be

Your face

With what remains

Of me

In You

For Sunday Scribblings #271 "The next step" and Poetry Pantry #53

Maybe Tonight

Oscar Burriel

Sleepy eyes blink slower

The lower I sink

Below layers

Of silk

As whirling ceiling fans

Twirl

Circular cool air

Chill my head

In the center

Of our bed

I whisper prayers

Silent cares

Yawn an amen

And sigh your name

Again and again

Until I fade

Away

In deserts dry

I dream and drift

In the fracture

Of another day missed

Without your lips

Moist kiss

Lazer-like

Dawn rays

Trace

Once more

Your cool pillow

Without your face

In sight

Maybe tonight

Whispers

Maybe

Tonight

For One Single Impression Prompt 172 "Long For" And for Poetry Pantry 53

I Still Breathe



Rob Hanson photo



Dust and rust and cobwebs sewn

Antique phone molds workshop wall

I still work and want to talk

But techno growth stole my soul

Hidden deep in cellar dank

Missing sheep in old folks home

I still breathe and want to talk

Lay alone in darkened room

Sunrise dawns and sunset fades

Stray light beams sneak in each day

I still hope and want to play

But grandkids use new iPods

Dust and rust and cobwebs sewn

Antique phones wear mold that's grown

I still breathe and beg to try

But new ring tones let me die

Buried deep in cellar’s cry

Missing sheep in old folk’s home

…

…

For One Shot Poetry Sunday Photo and Poetry Pantry #53

Dream Seed

Swollen face summer

Shredded shoulders wrong color

Shed blood feeds dream seed

For Haiku Heights #47 prompt slavery

Inky Spin (Wordle 7)

Sarah Joncas

Inky Spin is a rock star

Gaudy

Unafraid

Not so common in a suburbia kind of way

Sexy and famous in darkened arenas

Yet

Her arms scared with bites of purple blaze

To help her lyrical intercourse with the stage

Gaudy and unafraid

Inky rocks

Her latest single was called, “Undulate”

She had no idea what it meant

But loved the way it sound sung sultry

While she undulated under spotlight’s glaze

Gaudy and unafraid

BUT

There’ve been murmurs from her entourage

Inky’s lost her mind and cries when she’s alone

Her moral compass spins uncontrolled

Chambered in the dark abyss of echoed fading cheers

Inky Spin was a Rock Star

Gaudy

Afraid

So very common in a meteorite kind of way

Beware (Carry on tuesday)(Revised, I shouldn't be allowed to write late at night)

Thomas C. Fedro

Beware of eyes glow red in dark,

Of cries of wolves with howling bark,

Thoughts of scamps wearing dresses tight,

That blind your mind from morning light,

Come away from asp's sweet perfume,

In hidden dens of darkened rooms,

The dawn comes quick to bathe your mind,

Night is plotting to steal your rhyme.

NOTE:  The prompt this week at Carry on Tuesday is the line, "Beware of thoughts that come in the night."  I used each word to start a sentence.