Category Archives: free verse

anthem – NaPoWriMo 2019 #22

Anthem

Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light

mothers counting empty beds, oh, how they weep, take to the streets where their children sleep in pooling crimson seas

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?

tiki torches blazing, raised stiff hands salute, ‘all hail’, exposed white faces spitting bile would smite true patriots who bend a knee

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,

those who dare, rise in humility, to challenge twisted liberty, lay prostrate at the mercy of the courts for fans to see,

O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

throngs clamoring at the gates, fleeing terror, death and hate, hoping they are not too late, but freedom is not free

And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

blinding smoke bombards the moat where orphaned children flail and choke, acid tears now streaming down their cheeks

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

barely recognizable, flaunted proudly, all for show, allegiance pledged as madness grows, this bitter fruit we sowed to reap

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

with nothing left to show but our disdain for truth, our love of lies, all this is proof that we have squandered our humanity

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

cowards all, ignoring the call, from our tongues deadly poison falls, scorching the ground from shining to the rising seas

~kat

For NaPoWriMo 2019 Prompt #22write a poem that engages with another art form – it might be about a friend of yours who paints or sculpts, your high school struggles with learning to play the French horn, or a wonderful painting, film, or piece of music you’ve experienced – anything is in bounds here, so long as it uses the poem to express something about another form of art.

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on the shelf – MLMM

antiques-2

on the shelf

you barely notice him there
shadowed face, darkened, looming
in the mirror, whispering tales of
masked heroes, of brilliant valor
old as wheels and of damsels not
distressed, save for the sting
of fearful, pursed lips flapping,
judgment over fabricated scandals,
pants not dresses worn, oh there
are tomes stacked high as heels
spitting lies of petulant patriarchs,
women have their place, they bark,
captured on celluloid, idolized but
muted objects on a shelf, no self for
selflessness, ignored, she feels the sun
at her back, his shadow growing
longer, looming in the mirror
barely noticed there, barely worth
noticing, from plastic eyes she stares

~kat

For Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt: Choose an Antique.

 


slaugtercoop 9…to 5 – NaPoWriMo #21

slaugtercoop 9…to 5

the chickens labour every day, nested in
cubicles underneath a hundred fluorescent,
strobing suns, pecking furiously on keyboards
to lay a golden egg, to stay the axe, trading
this frying pan for that, no relief, save sips of
sludge where coffee beans and crushed tea
leaves weep into styrofoam cups, sweet with
cane and cream; mindful of the cock, or is it
the clock, clucking slowly dawn to dusking
night where dreams are scrambled, slimy
clarity oozing midst congealed pabulum,
ultimately fed to swine, who pay no mind to
treasure, calling it slop; they don’t treat cows
this way, allowed to nosh in fields of clover
before sucking their swollen teats dry, cash
flowing into buckets, kicked by gluttonous
overlords demanding more and more, the
cock is crowing, wolves and buzzards pace
while headless chickens race around like rats

~kat

For NaPoWriMo 2019 Prompt #21: write a poem that incorporates wild, surreal images. Try to play around with writing that doesn’t make formal sense, but which engages all the senses and involves dream-logic.


adipose complex – NaPoWriMo #18

adipose complex

in the beginning, she tasted like
mother’s milk, warm, soothing, sweet
later she was peas, skins popping, soft
centers bursting, then grainy niblets
of pear pulp dancing on my tongue,
I learned to suckle at her breasts
to assuage my longing in times of
sadness, times of fear, when grandpa
died, when mom got sick, through
homelessness, extended stays with
neighbors and distant relatives,
divorce, remarriage, divorce, empty
nests, suicide, illness, and more death,
she started to taste salty, bitter, hot,
my palate craved her sweetness, all
the more, chocolate bits and cake, lots
of cake, the more I ate the harder she
was to find, but I excused my gluttony
as ‘eating for two or three’, or ‘this
is my only vice’, ‘just one more bite’,
my angst only forced her into hiding
under expanding, ugly layers of
adipose flesh, a sick game of hide
and seek we played, of frenzied binges
then starving to see her emerge
again, however briefly, resolutions
declared yearly, only to be dashed
by valentine’s day, I miss her dearly,
but she and I are toxic twins, fighting
fiercely in futility, where no one wins,
I fear I have devoured her completely
after all these years, with nothing left but
her eyes, still recognizable, staring at me
from this old, fat woman in the mirror

~kat


For NaPoWriMo 2019 #18 Prompt: write an elegy of your own, one in which the abstraction of sadness is communicated not through abstract words, but physical detail. This may not be a “fun” prompt, but loss is one of the most universal and human experiences, and some of the world’s most moving art is an effort to understand and deal with it.

 


the things i would tell you, even though you already know…NaPoWriMo 2019 #15

 

the things i would to tell you, even though you already know…

we’re comfortable in an old shoe kind of way,
like a warm sweater on a brisk autumn evening,
comfortable like a song you know all the words to,
or a favorite book with all the best parts earmarked for keeping.
i know every mole, every hair, the where and why’s of your tattoos,
and the way your nostrils flare when you’re angry,
you’re eyes of blue have flecks of grey and black that change
depending on the weather or candlelight…or moonlight…
my shoulders  remember warmth of your embraces,
my lips, your soft kisses, tasting of tobacco and spearmint,
your heart, with its rhythmic cadence comforts me, grounds me,
your soft breasts are a place where I could rest my head forever,
if you’d let me, if we had the time…twenty years  we’ve danced this dance
reading each other’s minds, finishing each other’s sentences…
you know they said it wouldn’t last but they don’t know you like I do
like an old worn out pair of shoes we are, with a few miles left before we’re through
~kat
(this one’s for T)


For NaPoWriMo 2019 #15 Prompt: write your own dramatic monologue.  It doesn’t have to be quite as serious as Browning or Shakespeare, of course, but try to create a sort of specific voice or character that can act as the “speaker” of your poem, and that could be acted by someone reciting the poem.