Practice Your Goodbyes
You’ve not got as much time as you think
Life passes you by as you blink
So practice your goodbyes now
Practice while there is time to make mistakes
Tomorrow may bring a dark sky
Tomorrow may make you cry
And all the time you thought was there
Was spent without much care
No more chances for that conversation
It is, how it was
So practice your goodbyes with vigor
Life goes by faster than you figure
So make the hugs long and tight
Hold off goodbye with a fight
Talk through the night into the day
For our loved ones here, do not stay
I wrote this one a long time ago. I was looking through my poetry to find one I had written for my son and decided it was time to share my old stuff again. The break in the rhyme pattern is there to jar you, as death always does.
The End of the Adventure
You led me to the wilderness
you said there’d be an adventure
There was nothing but desert
You left me with an empty canteen
you left me to die of thirst
I guess death is an adventure
I think I am getting confused about what I have shared and haven’t shared to the blog because people on Twitter interact with my small stones poetry and I remember that people have read a poem, but forget that I haven’t shared it to the blog. So here is a poem that I believe is new to the blog. I will be sharing several of my short poems soon, I hope none of them are reshared, but if they are oh well. That is part of running a blog, a Twitter account, writing randomly in virtual notebooks, and trying to keep a child alive and thriving, while also trying to keep up with social media so I won’t be out of the loop on the new jokes. Give me a like if you know the feeling!
he breaks the flower’s back
puts it in the vase he wants it in
dying beauty on display
This is a political poem about domestic violence. October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month so I thought now would be an appropriate time to share it. I know it’s longer than a haiku should be but I liked it and didn’t want to trash it. Tell me your thoughts on this poem below in the comments.
Stopping to wipe away
cement dust on my lips,
digging up bodies
I wanted to forget,
is exhausting work.
Okay, I gave you a funny one last week, so back to the dark side, where I am more comfortable.
Soft Like Velvet
They were red
soft like velvet
and smelled great.
But I didn’t know
it was the end
I didn’t know they
were graveyard roses.
This poem was inspired by an orjay prompt on Twitter.
there’s a tingling in my fingers
my muse makes my fingers itch
they search for a pen before
I realize they’re even moving
words appear and spill out
blood, bile and vomit
on the page of my notebook
when I thought I was growing
daisies and roses
ghosts hover and wolves howl
I wanted hopping bunnies
but the wolf ate the bunny
and blood runs like a stream
down the path my feet are treading
Does your muse ever wander off into the forest?
Do you ever finish a poem and go – “Wait! That’s not what I was going to write!”
I have linked this post to Open Link Night at dVerse check out the other poems and poets here.