sudden gifted breeze
the heat had melted my shoes
fluttering silk speaks peace
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Tag: micropoetry
I am tired
write me a poem, he said
one not full of scars
I am tired of hearing
how you feel
everyone feels
he said
you are not special
except when you make that cake
the one
with orange and dark chocolate
and your tears
falling
falling
my eyes are brown
yours are blue
that’s good too
this poem needs work
it’s true
I planted seeds
that never grew
I woke up blue
I spilled my coffee
1991
there were consequences, and
there was residue;
1991 was more than our hearts–
It was a shroud, a relic
something to be compressed
and worn around my neck
I never hated Mondays
like he did
this do-over
this fresh, rain-soaked
village of a day
weaving threads
not as complicated
as we like to make it
strangling good sense
we never come out on top
but
the pot is always
boiling
I can’t sleep
every thing he said
swirls around
in a foamy mess
like clouds
looks like rain
awake
the birds are early
they must know something
besides the dark
how peaceful to listen
to know God hears
every lonely chirp
from my heart
feels like summer here
sweating all our regrets
drinking gallons of hope
