thesocialpoet

Archive for January, 2014|Monthly archive page

Patio Lights

In Poetry on January 27, 2014 at 3:03 pm

Come-hither

my Fair Hypnotist.

 

Come closer

my fair trend.

 

Our Night is young

and confident

 

without pompousness

 

squeezed into bravery

fresh humidity

warm hearth

swaying trees

 

a moon with much might.

 

Come about

my fair Creator.

 

Gregory Gathman, USA

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The Museum

In Poetry on January 12, 2014 at 1:14 pm

Walking out of the muddy woods

and into a pristine museum

tracks dirt onto the exhibits.

 

You may knock something over, or

slip on the stairs and hurt yourself.

Someone will have to clean this up,

no doubt about that.

 

The cold, clean air of a museum,

harboring tokens of humanity,

is no place for dirt from the

muddy woods.

 

You must pay your fee, clean your shoes

comb your hair, iron your shirt, before

you can enter the museum.

 

The museum is no place for dirt

from the muddy woods.

So don’t track it in.

 

Cold

air.

Wet

dirt.

Tile

Hardwood

Ceramic

Floors.

 

Don’t track it in.

 

Zack Henry, USA

I Spend Too Much Time Looking at My Feet

In Poetry on January 8, 2014 at 6:27 pm

You said you only likedĀ realĀ girls. I said, don’t ever call me that again.

 

We were, just two people who were not supposed to fall in love again.

 

I guess, I’m just misdirected

because I stumbled toward you.

 

And yes, I am drunk

And you are beautiful.

 

But in the morning, I’ll be sober

and you’ll still be beautiful.

 

Alison Marie Johnston, USA