Tag: 66 Day Poetry Habit

66 Day Poetry Habit, Elegy for My Empire, Photography, Poetry, Still Life Poetry

San Bernardino Christmas

Posted on by M.

We, none of us, have money
for this. We put up the cross, but
the garage door is still broken.

The cross leans back like a goal
post about to be torn
asunder by the underdogs who
have won the game at last.

We may not be winning
the game at last, but we know
how to tear shit down
even and especially if
it’s our own.

The city tree that was already
dead in October from heat and
disease and not Mother Nature’s
glorious turning—we
put three black sparkly
ornaments on it for Halloween.

Child thieves stole two of them
that night—probably the only real
treat in their lifeless bags.

They Left one out of guilt or
respect.

Out of guilt or
respect,

we left that one there
for Jesus.

-M.
66 Day Poetry Habit: Day 1

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66 Day Poetry Habit, God Poems

I’m All Wet Anyway

Posted on by M.

I am suggestible unembracing
my suggestibility without
context often getting my nose
stuck in best-selling
books on god—a new
understanding every day an
oracle in chapter-long
spurts until Heaven
gets too drippy and
I find myself
all wet.

-M.

(Day 1 of my 66 Day Poetry Habit, Take Two)

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66 Day Poetry Habit, American Sentence, Misc Poetry, Poetry

Poetic Fatigue Syndrome

Posted on by M.

The line tires me
but the great, gray
scratchy pens perk
like scalding coffee.

-M.
(Day 22 of my 66 Day Poetry Habit. Tired today, hence the doldrums poem. Not bad, just yawn and zzz. I’d rather a nap, but I promised myself, at the very least, an American Sentence to keep the streak alive. Here she is. Today’s American Sentence keeping the streak alive. Now… yawn and zzz.)

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66 Day Poetry Habit, God Poems, Poetry

Mending

Posted on by M.

A baby blanket the size of
A grown woman’s
Bed—the grown woman
Lying in her god’s lap in
Pain

They go to the bathroom
Together one of those
Weird couples who go to
The bathroom together
Because

She cannot walk or stand on
Her own

Or sit or lie or do
Any other thing on
Her own when that
Pain comes to take
Its tax

Oh my god I’m in
Agony

The Great Destroyer we
Don’t believe in together has
Wrapped me skin and
Bone in thick veils of
Agony

Her god offers her a bit of
Cookie and promises her
This bit of cookie the
First food she’s eaten in
A day

Will be the pleasure of
A prayer

And not make her
Sick it’s a big promise—a
Promise only a great god
Has the heart to make
And keep

-M.
(Day 21 of my 66 Day Poetry Habit. Three weeks! Three weeks on a bit of a sad note, but three weeks nonetheless. I wasn’t going to write today. I thought I needed another P day, but I’m glad I sat down with my book and did it anyway. It’s always better to write than not to write. How often we need that reminder.)

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66 Day Poetry Habit, God Poems, Poetry

Blessed

Posted on by M.

Safe in his hundred arms
Enfolded we sweat away
My freedom hearts as
One ticking thing a
Lifetime of un-spread wings

This poem is unfair
To a god who loves me truly
Enough to cut off my
Oxygen sometimes

-M.
(Day 20 of my 66 Day Poetry Habit. For those of you following along, yesterday was actually day 20, but I had to take a P day for personal reasons. Nothing like getting back up on that horse with a little of the good old god-angst. I hope everybody has a great weekend.)

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66 Day Poetry Habit, God Poems, Poetry

Victory Athena

Posted on by M.

Jaw set

Gray eyes clear

Seated at a loom

In an officer’s tent

One battle

One pass

One well-placed blow

Nike woven in gold

-M.

(Day 19 of my 66 Day Poetry Habit. I’m not going to lie, you guys: today’s poem sucks. Sincere apologies to Athena. As bad as the poem is, I think she might appreciate at least the fighting spirit. I feel like absolute hell but I AM going to make this 66 days. Write a sucky poem. Live to poem another day.)

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66 Day Poetry Habit, Announcements

Day 11 of my 66 Day Poetry Habit

Posted on by M.

I wrote a poem today but you’re not going to see it. I feel like hell and today’s poem shows it. But I wanted to be accountable, so here’s me being accountable and running a haggard eleventh lap with one seriously shitty poem tucked under my shirt. Nothing to see here. Nothing at all to see.

-M.

(Day 11 of my 66 Day Poetry Habit)

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