How Many Times?

My knees are weak and swollen,
My joints creak and pop,
My feet ache, my toes are numb.
Worn down, almost broken,
No cartilage left in my soul.
I’m tired and need a nap
As soon as I get out of bed.

How many times can you fall
Before your arms are too weak
To get back up?
How many time before your soul’s too weak
To even try?

Spider swimming upstream,
Water circling the drain,
The sun going down, going out.

5/19/17

So Tired of the War

Sopping wet cotton towel
Laid across broad shoulders,
Heavy, cold; pressing down
Like two one ton granite boulders.

Frosty goose skinned arms
Shivering in the back of the night
Blurred vision, runny nose,
No energy left to fight.

Enemy within, enemy without
This war just needs to end.
Losses heavy, steaks so high,
The home-front can’t comprehend.

The end’s in sight, the pain will stop,
No longer be afraid:
This old soldier’s mission ends
When in the ground he’s laid.

4/12/17

Poem #13 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

Its Hard (a Tanka)

Harder and harder
To breath, climbing up the hill
Harder and harder
To not cry out in pain and
Pray to rest in the soft dirt.

4/11/17

Poem #12 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

This Tanka is my first response to Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge # 28 – HARD & SOFT. I am honored to say that Colleen named me this week’s “Poet of the Week,” based on my tanka The Mask, which was a response to last week’s challenge.

The Mask (a Tanka)

Laughing in public
Always a smile for the crowd
A mask perfected
Nobody will ever hear
The wailing in the deep night.

4/4/17

This tanka is my second response to Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge # 28 – LAUGH & CRY (I substituted “laughing” for “laugh” and “wailing” for “cry”)

Poem #6 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

Alone (a Troilet)

Isolated, alone, even in a crowd.
Silent, quiet, but not without something to say,
Darkened corner, a solitary shroud,
Isolated, alone, even in a crowd.
Bent by the crushing weight of darkness: bowed,
Salty tears, could there be no other way?
Isolated, alone, even in a crowd.
Silent, quiet, but not without something to say.

4/3/17

My first attempt at a troilet.

Poem #4 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

 

Dreams of Poems Already Written

Allen was in Asgard reciting America and
Singing the Buddhist Bible Blues for All-Father Odin
While Bobby and Baldr compared notes concerning
Daily dreams of darkness, depression, and death.
Byron rode up and down Bifröst bridge
Writing a poem about Don Juan
(No, not that one, the new one!)
Marcus Aurelius read the mythologies of Midgard,
Studied philosophy with Plato,
Admiring the stoicism of Socrates,
As Rimbaud wrote rhyming prose about Ragnarök,
Containing nothing but the truth,
Delivering it to Valhalla for the consideration of
Siddhartha, Thor and Wōđanaz.

4/2/17

Poem #3 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)

High Water Rising

High water rising,
Gently caress my collar bone,
Drip drops and patient streams
Wear away granite stones.

Darkness claustrophobic
Wet wool weighs down,
Fingers bleed climbing garages,
Trying desperately not to drown.

Flood waters flowing,
Creeping the curve of my lips,
Neck stretched, stomach clenched,
Knees knocking atop toe tips.

Rivers run deep and muddy,
The valley floor will disappear,
Thunder shakes to the marrow,
Lightening crackles the atmosphere.

Lips pursed tight,
Almost as tight as my asshole,
Struggle to nose above the water,
This is the way the dice roll.

1/19-1/22/17

Darkness at the Break of Noon

When does it become too much to bear?
Flood gates threaten to burst,
Held whole by will alone,
Saltwater streams sting
Eyes screwed shut to damn the flow.

No one can see, No one must know.

Weight pressing down,
Dull pressure gripping; squeezing.
Pinned to the ground,
Getting hard to breathe.
It would be so easy to just stop.

1/18/17

Anguished Roaring

My God, my God,
why have You abandoned me;
why so far from delivering me
and from my anguished roaring?

-Psalm 22:2 (JPS Translation)

Why have you abandoned me
And made me live my life alone?
Why have you forgotten me
In this place where the sun has never shone?

Why have you forsaken me
When all I wanted was to please you?
Why do you deny me
When you know that I need you?

What is the real reason
Behind the misery I now feel?
What do I do when my pain
Is all that I have that is real?

Warmth (a haiku)

Wrapped in a blanket,
Warm, safe; nothing can hurt me.
Don’t want to get up.

10/22/2016