Migration
the trade winds whispered
hope ascended from her lips
he rose to be kept
like bonded birds of his dreams
migrating the sea for life
Migration
micropoetry
The Infinite beckoned me
I am so incredibly blessed.
The Infinite beckoned me
across the river
to her fertile west bank.
I will drink heartily
from her vineyard.I will nurture and till
her good earth,
and I will be content
to root myself here. pic.twitter.com/0lE87yUJ7j— Barry Just Barry (@HWCosmicRubble) March 9, 2020
What Fresh Hell, This Retention
What Fresh Hell, This Retention
Frequently, I
find myself
having to keep
looking up
the word
Incel.
Because I
keep forgetting
what it means.
Its meaning,
and in fact,
its very purpose
for existing
freefalls from
my mind
as soon as it enters,
or to be more precise
as soon as it
reenters.
I am actively angry
at having to retain
the memory of
such an ugly,
pointless word,
just so I can keep
apprised of current
unfortunate events.
They could’ve
saved me the trouble,
pain and suffering,
and gone by their
original name.
Losers.
***
Day 27: Tricks of Light on a Spring Night
Photo by Esteban Lopez on Unsplash
Tricks of Light on a Spring Night
Blossoms on my favorite tree seem luminescent.
Alas, they only capture their last moon beams.
***
Written for Real Toads 27th day prompt: “Write a two line poem in which you convey some startling image, an image that juxtaposes two images.”
Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to “remix” a Shakespearean sonnet, and that’s something I’ll never feel confident doing.
loss
Photo by Cherry Laithang on Unsplash
loss
with what
you know about
past lives, turmoil, trauma
how dare you misconstrue this calm
for ease?
I fear
if you peer beneath the veneer
what appears as apathy
will show true cost
of loss
***
Hephaestus’ Waste & Cosmic Rubble 