Bobby Dodds

Apr 2021

Bogdan Dragos

cats are a great audience for poetry readings

the cat was utterly
uninterested
and downright
bored

with him reading
mediocre poems
by her side

"You don't like this one?" he asked
"It's about nature
and birds
flying and... and... How good does
it have to be for you
to like it? I'm only ten, I haven't
lived long enough to
write poems of grief
and depravity like my father. But you
know, I'm actually aiming to become
better than him. I aim to be
a more
respected poet. What, you don't think
I'll be able to?
You think I'm just another
deluded fool? I'll show you!"

The cat stood
and stretched raising her tail
"Calm down, kid. First of all,
your daddy was no
poet. Just some drunk who spoke of
demons as he passed out
in bars. And you, you're not ten, okay?
You're just ten days
clean of meds."

"You think I should
end myself?" he asked

The cat waved a paw
at that. "Nah, just go on with the
next poem. I'll be listening
but please don't expect any
praise. It's not in my nature to
offer it, okay?"

"But... you think I'll be a great
poet one day?"

The cat closed her
eyes and offered no reply

https://bogdandragos.com/2021/04/13/cats-are-a-great-audience-for-poetry-readings/

Apr 2021

Bogdan Dragos

around the smokey hole

You can still be good
at what you do
without liking
what you do

It’s more common than
you’d imagine

The words reflected his face
in the steamy bathroom mirror

He watched
until he felt cold in his
nakedness
and shivered

reached for the towel
wiped
got out of the bathroom
put on clothes
and returned to his writing
desk

The blank page was ugly

unlike the somewhat encouraging
words on the steamy mirror

He reached into the drawer
pulled out the pen
stuck it into his mouth
clicked it

Reached again into the drawer
pulled out the gun
pointed it at the blank page
fired

He wrote for the remainder of
the day and the next
night around the smokey hole

It was finally
beautiful

https://bogdandragos.com/2021/04/19/around-the-smokey-hole/

Apr 2021

Bogdan Dragos

the last notebook

he takes his old wrinkled
notebook
and the black pen

and finds a
spot from which he can observe
the people
and write down what he
imagines to be their inner
conversations

It passes the time

and it takes away
attention from his own
inner conversations

It’s like a prescription drug
he has to take for the
rest of his life
and the twenty-nine bookshelves
filled with notebooks
he has at home stand as proof of that

But this will be
the last one,
he promises himself
as he closes the notebook and
walks up to the bridge

INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/

Apr 2021

Michael Perry

SEA TIDES- a Haiku

SEA TIDES- a Haiku

as the sea tides change
the mind will set course, carried
feel the ebb and flow

by Michael Perry

Apr 2021

Eleventheshyone

Once I loved Lynn

The day came when my pen no longer
Wrote your name
Freedom
Comes in many forms

#love #lost #feelings #goodbye

Bobby Dodds Apr 2021

The Start, and End of Things

All things ancient are once born young.
All things secret are shared by tongue.
All things hatred are worn with love.
All things whispered are sung by doves.
All things stone always come undone.

the inspiration for this poem primarily came from the thought i had, that all things like ancient or old or archaic were once young, smart words out of the mouths of the loud. brand new and original, and here we are, writing about them, like they're old news or yesterdays column.

#teens #teenager #classical #words #old #new #melancholy #average #familiar

Apr 2021

nicole

little exhale

suddenly my fingers have decided to dance across my keyboard
let them form what they may
-
you, you pretty boy
i've been avoiding writing this and making it out to you
as if you were a treasure i'd found in a cave or cove that i couldn't bare to lose
as if you'd brought me so much fortune and happiness
but really you were more of a leech
not letting me go and keeping me within your sights
giving me an inch, a speck of your attention, a sliver of you
-
you kept me up at night
the way you'd run across the mind
never leaving but instead made yourself too comfortable
interjecting when anyone else thought of coming into the palace you'd built for yourself
-
i was crazy about you
despite you being a walking log of inconsistencies and disappointments with your random texts and acts of closeness
despite you hurting me so much with your constant returns and empty sentences because you've never had enough to say
-
still i just couldn't bring myself to say or even think anything negative about you.
i wanted to keep my faith in you, that you'd let me in the murky waters you'd surrounded yourself with.
even now there's still this atomic size of hope i've kept locked away for you
-
for so long i wanted to remain mature, the bigger person, the adult
but i'm only 17
so, in that case
-
******* and *******.