We’re sitting at the dinner table
we hear the cars outside, the muffled sounds
of tires and engines, life going on
but above us, silence
no sounds of the planes
that used to cry overhead
like the birds in the wood
around our house, now silent.
We’re sitting at the dinner table
we hear the cars outside, the muffled sounds
of tires and engines, life going on
but above us, silence
no sounds of the planes
that used to cry overhead
like the birds in the wood
around our house, now silent.
Wandering the streets
I stare at my feet
the white stones on the ground
broken all around
I hear our cries echoing
my tears still choking
the breath from my lungs
at our city undone
Once upon a time I began using this website called Plinky that gives you daily writing prompts. Longtime readers might even recall some of my Plinky posts; they always had a little lightbulb at the bottom, indicative of the fact I had posted them through Plinky.
In any case, one of the prompts I didn’t find very lengthy, so I never posted it here: The challenge was to write a piece of poetry using only words that began with the letter S. It was a fun exercise. I enjoyed it.
The idea, however, never left me, and I decided someday I would write a slew of new poems, each of them directed by a single letter only. (I suspect X, Z, and Q will be challenging.) I’ve written a few more of these, and now that I’ve got a small number of poems amassed, I figured I’d share them here–and I encourage you to do the same!
Some day I’ll have all twenty-six poems written. Perhaps you’ll beat me there?
Through darkness I may wander, may there always be a light
The pain in which I despair, may it always lead me right
Through the sorrow so deep in me, may there always be the fright
The sadness in my soul I keep, may it prove me weaker than my might
Excerpted from I is for It Gets Better
Driving away from a wreck of a day
you tell me you’re falling to pieces
I turn from the mirror to glance far away
not to stare at my own broken pieces
An abhorrence, you called it, this thing I call love
but you gave it to me, my creator
I stare at the gates as they swing shut above
I’ll repent for this sooner or later
Excerpted from Shattered