B L Costello: Favorites

Mar 2018 B L Costello

Stars

Mar 2018 B L Costello

She Writes

Stars

I’ve found comfort in knowing
No matter where you are
The many miles between
We lie under the same stars

Sometimes I try to guess
which one you’d see
If you were looking up at them
Same as me

I look to the skies
When I’m lost and blue
Trying to find myself
But all I see is you

what do you see when you look to the stars
Do you see me, or just mercury and mars

#distance #stars #love

Mar 2018 B L Costello

End of Days (PF re-post)

Mar 2018 B L Costello

Scarlet McCall

End of Days (PF re-post)

As the winds grow stronger and the snow falls heavy,
as the oceans rise and pour over the levee,
as the sweltering heat makes us sleep in the day
and work in the night, I’ll take your hand and say:
Dance with me in the darkness, until the futile dawn;
sing while I play guitar, we don’t have long.
Read your poems to me while we have a little time;
we have no future, but we still have rhyme.
Let’s drink a toast, or two, to what might have been,
and what once was, before our time turned grim
Let’s plunder the pharmacy, or eat the magic mushroom;
don’t go into the night easy, but don’t rage at the moon.
Let’s savor all the moments, as our destiny arrives.
Let’s not waste another minute of our precious time alive.

Mudslides in California, another snowstorm in New York.

#climatechange #globalwarming #endtimes #carpediem

Mar 2018 B L Costello

Popcorn Ceiling Caskets

Mar 2018 B L Costello

Gidgette

Popcorn Ceiling Caskets

I've lain on this horrid couch for days,
vintage in hand
ever staring
at this hideous popcorn ceiling.
A cheap white, low lying coffin lid.
You can never rehabilitate the dead
We are dead.
Yet, more alive than any of the sane people.
How I pity the sane.
Boring.
****** to a life of hell they are.
In these popcorn ceiling caskets.
And routine,
is hell~A

Hey. I've missed you.

Feb 2018 B L Costello

Am I Batman or Robin?

Feb 2018 B L Costello

Blossom

Am I Batman or Robin?

At what point am I known as a poet?
After how many stanzas and rhymes?
I've written some thousands of words
Yet my words are a way to pass time

Drizzling raindrops
Masked the mans freckles and tears
His flawed attributes

There, I've written some words
That describe both dilemma and pain
In a haiku format, no less
But from that- what have I gained?

Poem is quite the strange lad
As is Muse, his wife just as bad
They lure in the brains
Of us simple and sane
And we write till uncanny and mad

Wow, I've done it again
I've written a poem in style
You know, I think I'm a poet
Maybe I've been one a while...

#poet #poem #limerick #haiku #rhymes #thoughts

Feb 2018 B L Costello

The Invisible Poem: Blank Verse (Fill In)

Feb 2018 B L Costello

Francie Lynch

The Invisible Poem: Blank Verse (Fill In)

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Finally. I'd been striving for a one word poem. After achieving it, I wanted a no word poem. Here it is. I guess this is no longer mine, but ours.

"The Invisible Poem" was selected as the Daily.
I'm humbled... to say nothing.
But I believe a response is necessary.
To all those who liked, loved and commented, I say thank you. I've read all you've written, and most of it is very creative and complimentary.
There are others, detractors, who claim "*******," etc.
Well of course, this only begs the question, "What is poetry?"
I can't answer that. I've written on it. But what I do know is what poetry should do. Its purpose.
If a poem should arouse emotions, bad or good, make people think, have people want to write, to express themselves (and I believe I'm on the mark here), then, anything can be a poem. Even a page with lines on it.
Thanks again to all the readers.
And if you're still *******, don't attack me... go after Elliot. :)

Jan 2018 B L Costello

Withered Roses

Jan 2018 B L Costello

Misty Meadows

Withered Roses

You been on my mind heavy, but
I gotta let you go.
You're a ghost now.
Stop appearing in my dreams, doing
Shows.
I'm not very entertained. I am
Actually afraid. And if I knew where
It was at, I think I'd come right to
Your grave,
And ask you to knock it off,
Since you never said goodbye.
You don't got the right to pop up in
My head by surprise. And
You don't pay enough rent in the
Depths of my mind
To think that that's where your final
Legacy should reside.
I have now fallen in love with a woman
Who breathes air.
She's got blood in her veins and
Doesn't cause me despair.
She's more than just a picture of the
Capture of a stare.
But why tell you this? You'd just say
You do not care.
But this is vital information, that you
Really need to hear.
I don't wanna close my eyes, fall
Asleep, and you appear.
I loved you in the past and I'll always
Love you, dear.
But the wrath of your absence can't be
Something that I fear.
Of course, I'd like to close this off with
Something great.
But I'll have to end it abruptly.
Something much like your fate.
And I hope that in death, you resist
To give hate.
And I hope that you can leave me
Alone with a clean slate.

Jan 2018 B L Costello

I am Ma'am.

Jan 2018 B L Costello

Scarlet McCall

I am Ma'am.

I am Ma’am.
Ma’am I am.
And if I order
green eggs and ham
at the café,
you can say,
“We don’t serve that here,
Ma’am.”

Miss, I’m not.
I am not Miss.
That appellation
is a dis.
Take a look,
and you’ll see this:
I’m 53, not 18.
I may be older than I seem,
but my days of girlhood are long gone.
And to call me “Miss” would just be wrong.
So call me “Ma’am;” it’s what I am.
You might think “Miss” is hip or flip,
but if you call me that there’ll be no tip.

Unbelievably at a restaurant a waiter called my 81-year-old mother "Miss." It's disrespectful.

#sexism #aging #manners #respect #disrespect