A million dollars
Inflation adjusted
Doesn’t buy much
A bit of good will
Change a life
Take the edge off
Constant pressure
Uncertain economy
Too easy to spend
With taxes and fees
Maybe buy a plot of land
Preserve it for the Earth
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
Featured Image Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
Not sure why even bother if failure isn’t a risk?
Climbing a mountain isn’t fun because of the view. The view is only great because of the climb.
Regardless, I’ve been light on meaningful poetry posts, partially because I’ve been trying to submit to publications and they get persnickety if it has been published elsewhere. WordPress counts.
This link will take you to my latest:
I have about 60-70 worth of combat/war-themed ones that revolve around the veteran experience that I prefer to publish traditionally (To see if I can, the challenge is the point). The above is in that vein. Although a more recent write-up.
I’m at about 8 formal rejections which in the spirit of this prompt is kind of low. I figure when I get rejected closer to 50, I’ll be in the ballpark of close to success.
Photo by Kalen Emsley on Unsplash
Featured Image Photo by Kamil Pietrzak on Unsplash
It shapes me, squeezes the
tender flesh around my throat
while the snake I swallowed
slithers out my mouth
Almost nightly I wake, the
growling noise of an engine
or an animal, it is me, my
chortle choking ragged breath
Never the night hag, aliens
phantoms or slender men
long fingers, magic powers
pressed upon my chest
I see nothing, feel nothing
Not my breath only paralysis
grips me, I struggle within my
head I battle, unmoving
It frightened me the first time
when Amara, crawled from her
well, cursed me with frozen
black fingers, I’m alone now
Resigned to my fate, I will my
arms to move, my asphyxiated
brain lets me fight a moment
longer before an adrenaline shot
I gasp for air, this regular beat
of an alarm clock wakes me to
oxygen infusion, I stare at the
dark wall, time to get up I suppose
This burnt offering, of human
waste burnt pits of scar tissue
into my lungs, left over shrapnel
from that long War on Terror
Photo by 🇸🇮 Janko Ferlič on Unsplash
I’m on Facebook, there I’ll be able to communicate with people more directly, and also have more writing updates, beyond daily musings and light bits of poetry.
Do the write thing,
the write thing?
Yes, the write thing.
Write daily, every day
Even when I’m tired
Even when it stinks
Most days it isn’t
any good, just a few
lines to say I did
Little toward the
novel, it’s true but
it’s a daily practice
Practice daily, the
struggle is the habit
Habit is everything
Full disclosure, writing isn’t my “hardest” goal, but it is my current personal one. I have been struggling to keep after the novel that I’ve been working on. I blasted through the first half, then hit a wall. Poetry has kept me “writing” but hasn’t been constructive toward finishing that book.
Photo by Marek Piwnicki on Unsplash
Featured Image Photo by Nikola Knezevic on Unsplash
Be clever, say clever things
I don’t have a post today, but I wanted to see what page stats would look like if my post was intentionally meh.
Feel free to comment below if you think that these prompts sound like they are generated by a soulless AI trying to generate activity.
Photo by Cherry Laithang on Unsplash
Featured Image Photo by Cristina Gottardi on Unsplash
Work, that torturous hobby
borrow time undeserved
validate me with salary
another unfulfilling day
Write me an escape
route, hiding right here
Of course I’m with you
somewhere else, too
Exercise my freedoms
Never free from myself
I’m half the problem
One more heavy set
Garden grows tall
green juicy stalks
pull dinner with dirty
hands and tiny seeds
Indulgent fantasy
these hobby ideals
never enough time
work and family first
Photo by Sebastian Unrau on Unsplash
Possessions that have
Willingly possessed me
Absurd relationship
Inanimate control
Abusive dynamic
One-sided care
Involuntary exorcism
Release my spirit
Free my body
Emancipate my life
From capitalist shackles
Self inflicted domination
Photo by Elimende Inagella on Unsplash
Featured image Photo by mahdi rezaei on Unsplash
I threw a poem together, then realized it wasn’t really getting anywhere.
My short comment, out of respect for your time on a Saturday. I do my best, as an opinionated adult to be slow to form an opinion.
I’m not saying it is a perfect approach, but I’ve made enough mistakes to be pretty comfortable knowing that I don’t know enough about any topic to have a fixed opinion. Not trying to say that I’m the most humblest, only that I’ve slid down the Dunning-Kruger slide of awareness enough to know I have a lot to learn. I’d rather come at a topic from a place of learning than a fixed position or opinion.
It’s the weekend, if you have the luxury spend some time with a book, or with people you care about.
Photo by Giammarco Boscaro on Unsplash
Featured image Photo by Jaredd Craig on Unsplash
Fall into place
a silly thought
Always tend to
fall out of place
Desperately grasp
the scattered pieces
Life in disarray
unmet expectations
Maybe that is life
never a set place
Always falling
forever grasping
Photo by Rick Mason on Unsplash
Featured image Photo by Jené Stephaniuk on Unsplash
No poem on this prompt.
I am imagining the lamest apocalypse movie ever, where everything is fine, but chaos reigns. And all these people wander outside blinking and looking at the sun and each other. Unsure what to do now.
Short answer, computers have been an incredibly enabling technology. But thye have also shackled us all with expectations of performance. We do perform at a higher level, and we do connect further and faster. At a serious cost.
I’d also need to find a new job, the computer is my tool of the trade.
Photo by Daniil Silantev on Unsplash
Featured Image Photo by Cookie the Pom on Unsplash
Adam Fenner 