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Once upon a time in a quiet corner of my mind
I deemed myself a poet.
What an arrogant ******* I am.
To think my less than subtle rhymes, written at best
in erratic time, qualify somehow as poetry.
Still I write this drivel from the heart
and I guess, Hell, maybe that's a start.
And maybe, It shouldn't be.
But maybe, just possibly
In the mind of this arrogant ******* poet
That's good enough for me.
puckered lips to go un-kissed
left hanging in the wind

a Blackbirds song
on a path of its own

a shattered silence
singing of loves lament
squeezed onto the horizon
a future imagined-
taking to the unknown road
Seven minutes in heaven
A game kids use to play
I got my turn one warm summer day
It was meant as a joke
Just kids being mean
Sweet Susie Cooper
When I was only thirteen
I felt sorry for her, locked in a closet with me
The geek, the dork, full of anxiety
Six long minutes together
Alone in the dark
Then from out of nowhere I felt a spark
Just before the door opened
Sweet Susie, She kissed me
And broke my heart
He is like a god to me
    alpha of my pack, my rescuer and my rock:
his breath like beef’s bouquet
    his words like brittle bones breaking in my mouth.

Our touch like summer
    as I rest my head on his strong thigh:
gazing adoration
    staring petition.

I stalk him
    for the crumb that falls from his plate:
and wait patiently
    for scraps of skin from his repast.

When indecision strikes
      to eat or not to eat:
He nobly leads me to the door
      and tethered takes me out.

He leads me through
    musky canine
          saffron sage
              scented pastures:
and corrects me when
    squirrels like sins
          tempt me to stray.

We romp through rugs
    of red and russet
          fallen fronds:
foraging for
    foully fragrant food
          delight of doggy dentes.

I am his humble hound:
he my mighty man.
An exercise in personification. The poem uses the metaphor of a dog's devotion for our relationship with the divine.

I thank Kareneisenlord Klge for her feedback,  especially the image of yellow scented sage that allowed me to improve the 5th stanza, and the suggestion of more visual imagery that lead me to add the 6th stanza.
this was a song that lingers in caverns and
caves, scented by sea rose and anemone,
lost kingdoms where we dream of the sea.

this was a song like a whale shivering
through the water, diving into the
impossible dark, with its huge tail
waving, flag-like and star-hungry,
its skin the moon's lips, in a world
with no moonlight, no brightening pools,
and only echoes of a forgotten sun.

how deep do we dive, seals of ink
and overtures of unanswerable
dark? our eyes have been betrayed
many times and the water buries us
whole, takes us to the staccato rhythms
of a ghostly tide, takes us back to
a womb woman whose prayers lie
like whispers on the water, who tells
us to hush and we hear our mother's voice.

these are wild notes that press into the
waves, and i am frightened of this song,
it is dissonant and gathered from the
rivers of night, her tombs overgrown with
wild flowers and the bones of the sea,
and she cries for the lost,
for those that were taken from her,
and she will cry for all eternity
and her tears are like breath of ice.
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

            Dump ‘Em into the Mixmaster and Stir-Whir-into-a Blur

Americans
iconic
cannot
icon
write
bombshell
without
axe to grind
employing
the knives are out
tiresome
gunning for
old
fwiw
metaphors
business-as-usual


Battleground states
Eye-watering
scores to settle
Cringe
Bloodthirsty
Guru
Meltdown
Woke
Wardrobe malfunction
Green light
Eviscerate
Breaks cover
Breaks silence
Jaw-dropping
Took __ by storm

Dump ‘em into the magical metaphorical Mixmaster® and stir, stir, whirrrrr…
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