Incriments poems on Hello Poetry

Catharine Mary Batsios Oct 2011

Seventy-nine days ago I walked home in early
September wearing a smell
of you.

       You said once, while massaging my back,
                   tense and fickle, but folding
             under your hands;
      “We're all off ***. It's a matter of increments.”

Today, moving back and forth in this building
It's rough-cut stone walls a consolation,

I think, borderline obsessively,

You don't know what to do
with a woman like me,
do you?

Nygil McCune Jul 2010

Something i Shared

The introduction to poetry class,
English 106
at Oregon State is alright.
I might have liked
one
or two
of the things we read,
but all in all
it was just another english class
which shyed away from anything
that broke traditional form,
and only elaborated the folly of existence:
a belief that
a subjective object
could be
an objective subject.

Oh well,
it was a good way
to waste away
for four summer weeks
in hour and 50 minute
incriments
while i waited
for my life to mean something.
So i guess that
over
all
i can't complain about it
because at least the class
and i
were both worthless
and we could share that
together.

Copyright, Nygil McCune 2010

Johnnyqu33r Aug 2022

Between

The numbers are once again dropping
As I crawl upward in notches on the wall
Perhaps my expectations are far too wild
To know yourself well and find healing
To not fall victim to the watering hole
To be present for longer incriments
To not force me into guilted situations
I have done nothing to ruin anything yet
My world has collapsed multiple times
As jagged bricks and other debris
While my hands held candelabras
To serve as guiding lights for the ones
I allowed to be the closest to me
How dark the world now must be for them
Since the icy chill wrestled my flame
Bringing forth a thick dark shadow
But the fire will soon return to me
I'll be an endless light for more people
Who will feed and get full and leave
I think all that matters is the in-between
There is no true joy without knowing pain

— The End —