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Him Dec 2020
I searched for you that day... beneath clouds overcast and grey. First, to the park, where with you by my side, we had slowly walked, whilst the moonlight lit our way... but you were not there.

So I looked here, within this place, whose walls still lacked any remnant of grace; chipped, while winter-white and bare; hoping...praying to see your face, before the sun had fade.

Leaving me in a perpetual darkness, and with a perpetual question of Where.
I am still searching... are you?
If even the lonely among you have someone,
Then where do I stand?
Where Shelter Jan 2021
BUT each piece, limb parcel, of me,
claiming authorship credit,
the fingers that type,
the left foot upon
which we stand,
the heart, soul,
and the oxygenated blood,
diluted with a *****-like
mysterious soulful ether

all vociferous claim
full credit
regardless for the specific
IDENTIFYING
instigating moment,
specific contribution,
they each encapsulate

and the birthmark,
a Noah’s ark-escapee,
sign left behind, well,
upon my chest, exactly
when my guttural growled,
complete!  for the very first time

Do I care?

Not really.

Can we live without any ***** specific?
Briefly, perhaps, a substitute oft rejected,

the jigsaw of my body, it’s animated spirits,

just a bunch of noisy, plagiarizing auteurs,
egos so big, it’s amazing
we can frame them all in
into a single slop bucket
Aug 19 2020
Red Dec 2020
Old friend, where are you?
When did you leave?
I miss you
Gidgette Nov 2020
I slept for just a bit. As I tend to do. Where are all the great poets I knew and loved. Where is Wordvango? Where is Jennie? Where is Mr WCA?
Where Shelter Aug 2020
~for me~

no food in this house, badly bruised fruit,
leftover congealing overdue-past pasta with ketchup and cheese,
moldy bread testing the outer boundary of edibility,
jeez, even gotta drink water direct from the tap!

the worn out endemic pandemic comatose wakes up next to me,
“even this fickle friend is thinking its time for them to go, who knows,
cause we no longer count the time, where time goes, it just goes”(1),
don’t want it to go, because the ideation of life totally alone terrifies

looking out at the water, waves relinquish their sooth-me-ability,
now, they looking like masses of commuters and tourists weaving,
pushing, on Fifth Avenue, everybody trys gain a step in this old get-
ahead life we used to liv, believing that the way to, the right place

a poet here has cancer, doesn’t answer me when I’m checking on him,
another has memory sickness, cannot ever let go of her life’s losses,
as well she shouldn’t, some losses are wars by definition un-winnable,
and me, drifting in and out of this poem in the early morning thinking

if I could get back to sleep, that’ll be a couple more hours used up,
don’t want to mislead, no answers any to the perennial flowering
question of where shelter can be found, this wretch like me, can’t see,
grace has fled (2), see it, rowing away, can’t blame it, I would too

so many come to me with pain, wasted opportunities, looking for
guidance, or worse, absolutions, the dishes in the sink, last weeks,
saying they deserve a second chance at a useful life and the coffee
machine flashes “Empty Grounds or Leaving Town,” a decent rhyme

don’t give a **** if you’re thinking this writ, gotta quit, too long,
take your tiring eyes and scram, skedaddle, mine until I get a decent
answer to questions that never let go, they’ll keep coming back and
somehow that prospect, is crazy way is comforting, for all parties

can’t let go, only thing that gets me outta bed, the need  reheat, reheat
old, cold coffee that someone stuck in fridge just in case, the electric
gets hurricaned, stormed, another tree comes down this time that doesn’t just miss the house, like last week, that a stupid way to die

answer to where shelter ain’t, gonna start a collection of awnings, keep one handy, no matter time and luck take me, a stopgap answer to the quest-ion at hand, I’m liking that word,  it’s emotive, aaawww-ing, comes ready, handy guttural name, & to the beat, flapping wind

thought I’d get answer by writing this all down, none come along, meaning I’ll write some more some day soon, when the eyes open, should they open once more-row, the questioning, the pandemonium blues, wake up beside me asking where I’ve been, they’ve been

waiting all night for some bad company.




notes
__

(1) “Who knows where the time goes” Fairport Convention
(2) “Amazing Grace” Judy Collins
Where Shelter Sep 2020
a tall masted sailboat plods its way
across the picture window, under power, moving slow, 5 minute mile,
seagulls trail behind, periodically dive bombing the roiled wake, thinking, surely, men’s finding machinery may better than their own,
we,
taking anything to make the new days poems & troubles easier

so it goes, the interplay between man and a natural world,
so it goes, finding fish, our sustenances, a dance perpetual,
so it goes, divining spirits sensing a vision, bring me music,
a spiritual so apropos that who can doubt God’s existence?

”With the water
Sweet water, wash me down
Come on, water
Sweet water, wash me down


Tried my hand at the Bible
Tried my hand at prayer
But now, nothing but the water
Is gonna bring my soul to bear”^


so the birth-day begins, sunrise poems & troubles sure to follow,
in serenity commences, perhaps a sunset bookend to match,
but in between, surely poems & troubles, all of life’s stuffing,
signs and guides, surely, at least, the day’s poem is completed...




—————————————-
^ Nothing But the Water (II)
Grace Potter and the Nocturnals
first poem of the day


Fri Aug 21 2020
8:40am
S.I.
Bhill Aug 2020
the road to no-where
who travels this lonely road
is there a finish

Brian Hill - 2020 # 224
Don’t travel this road...!
Esther L Krenzin Aug 2020
it is a slow awakening
that i crave
i thought i wanted you to fill me
with understanding
but lord, treat me with care
touch me in small ways
i know i have built a dam
to keep you out
but i have been drowning for so long
that i cannot tell help
from harm

Esther Krenzin
Nylee Aug 2020
Where did you sail
            Inland and
all of a sudden
  out of my dreams
?
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