Tag Archives: Poetry

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.


Sunday’s Week in Reverse – 21 April 2019

Happy Easter to those who celebrate! Happy Pesach to others. Happy 39 moons to my youngest daughters, twins. Happy Spring!! The irises are finally in bloom while the dogwoods cling to heavy fading petals. The weekend slips away. Make the most of it my friends. Tomorrow presents a clean slate to write upon. It will be great or at least it can be. This story, your story, and how it ends is up to you! Peace out!


Sunday’s Week in Reverse – 21 April 2019

this ship will write itself in the end
it’s the unknown, that’s threatening
don’t weep for me
we’re comfortable in an old shoe kind of way,
why would anyone pay
grateful am I for nothing less, for less is more that way
they are wiser than they know…
I fear I have devoured her completely
yes these yahoos will become yesterday’s yarn
his words haunt me still

~kat


A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


words from my father – NaPoWriMo 2019 #20

words from my father

choose between career
or family, can’t have both

his words haunt me still

~kat

A Haiku for today’s NaPoWriMo 2019 Prompt: write a poem that “talks.”


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.

 


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