Well, if you are going to ask it that way…
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Beware the Bus
Honk-honk, clatter-chatter, hiss-hiss,Morning‘s rush ensnares.Sharp glare, piercing, as the bus looms,Mischief in your eyes. Hissing threats through morning‘s gloom,Chattering loud lies.Intent clear, I swerve past you,Safety‘s leap: survive.
A tortured poet
I’m the tortured poet
sitting solumnly
during starlit hours
staring at blank screen.Don’t Listen to Them: Finding Your Voice
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” — Martin Luther King Jr. “When we speak, we are afraid. But when we are silent, we are still afraid. So it is better to speak.” — Audre Lorde “Silence in the face of injustice is complicity with the oppressor.” —…
Mastering the Marathon Mind: Repetitive Techniques for Poets
I’m struggling to reach the tape. Lungs and legs burn. How did I get so out of shape?
thank you
thank youto the accidentalallies who stand by our sidewhen the familiarnames split who hear silent crieswhile the favoredfriends quarrel who shelter stray spiritsafter the formalfamily evict us thank you
Moniker
Don’tcall mehoney, sweetie,buddy, bossbig guy, dude,slugger, champscooter, chief,captain, sporttiger, partner,daddy, dudeIf youcan’t botherto learnmy nameDon’t call meanything The Power of What’s Not Said This poem was written with restraint from the beginning. I didn’t want to explain everything or weigh it down with emotion. I wanted the silence to do some of the speaking. The…
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