i dare you (for One Shoot Sunday)
1.
i ground my being
in search of truth
and found
a scoop of silt
superficialities
i basked in surfaces
the sun swarmed
beguiling
choked my truths
in flashes
glories in seconds
fallen as ash
my pretenses
morphing into
this mush slipping
between my lips
entrapped
in your weakness
i dare you
unclad who i am
2.
who am this
being a pallid skein
of desire tangled
in despair
words dangle
on tips of bones
their flesh i picked off
in my darkness
suns melt
on my breath
gods cower in fear
over my stink
stones corrode
from my tears falling
as flint on my trail
dead embers
rain pools
sizzle on my passing
burn secrets
my footprints bred
3.
taunt me
if you have grit
the songs i spew
rattle angels
wangle crests
of waves my stare
long petrified on seas
turned cesspools
dare to cleanse
the air i poison
my soul departed
litter ivy beds
comb my hair
your fingers hanker
for my silken scales
to root in spirit
grind your being
with mine scrape off
your bareness toss out
your soul i dare you
Posted for One Shoot Sunday from a photo prompt by Fee Easton at One Stop Poetry where poets and artists share their art and their passion for it, a nurturing gathering place. Check us out.
To write a poem (wordplay on an old typewriter for One Shoot Sunday)
is not to catch
the words unlatched:
it is to meet
a current against the sweep
against the words
the patterns on the board
the words imprint
that later fade so like river silt.
To catch a poem
you can’t, unless eyes firm
eyes glued to the vaulted
deep from where had bolted
these words you unleash
on lines that leap
your fingers balancing
thought on words that slink.
To catch the thought
that storms into desert draught
you choose the speed
or letters scrambling in the deep
delude the eyes
escape the mind on ice
old keys do creak when cranked
to catch the lines unlatched.
To catch a storm wreaking
havoc on a heart sinking
in a slew of silted dreams
rusting on dredged streams
where winds howl threats
of maddened sand and dust like breaths
the finger tips must kiss
the letters naming muses hissing.
To catch the muses
soothe their caricatured faces
bare your soul salvaged
from old thoughts once baggage
tear out the paper
spewing lies of hereafter
catch the words that spell
the truth about their names true to their spell
on you to write a poem.
Posted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry where a community of poets and artists share their love for their art and continue to sustain each other. Check us out!