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Sebastian Macias Jul 2016
She still had tears in her eyes
Her eldest son, Max, just passed
He had an overdose on July 5th
This woman held in real pain
I don't doubt her for a second
She is old, burnt, mad
Her madness is pure, pure madness
She tells me her stories
And I sit there, hungover
Looking into those tearey eyes
She elaborates her stories
Wou her motion as she sweeps
"He chased me yesterday!
It was real, I knew it
Even if it didn't happen, it was real
The man loves under the budge that
Connects one building to another
I think she said she might have scared him
Maybe he thought she was real too
"I ran into the street screaming!!"
I'm at the edge of my seat.
The police have her ****,
"Historical" she says, well of course
Wouldn't you be too if you got chased
The man under the bridge
The second floor custodian
I was all too real
SteamPhunk Aug 2018
I just want to take a train,
Just go,
Go to another city and explore it by myself,
With music playing in my ears,
Sit in a cafe,
Sip some tea,
While reading a book,
Take Polaroids of famous landmarks,
Talk with the people who live there,
Learn about what they think of life,
Learn their stories,

I just want to travel,
To an isolated coastal town,
Where the waves crash up against the cliffs,
Where it's always a little rainy and dreary,
And the green is so green with the morning dew,
And the houses are always small and cozy,
And smell like fresh bread and old books,
And it's always perpetually foggy outside,
And I can wear hand-knitted sweaters forever,
And I can read anthologies of old poetry by the fireplace or in the garden,
And it sort of just smells ancient,
And everybody just minds their own business,
And life is peaceful and good,
And every now and again I cycle to the nearest village and go shopping,

This is the life I dream about...
Janet Aitch Sep 6
"A stitch in time saves nine"
is proverbial
"Inchworm measuring the marigolds"
is a song

Snippets remembered
from days long gone by
built by a poet
intuiting a story
imagining an ending

a prize-winner
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