Poem For The people Who Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry by STEVEN DUNN

Salutations. It has been quite some time since I have fed my literary appetite with something that is very fulfilling. Well, I have found another huge helping of words that has not only fed my literary appetite but has enveloped my funny bone in irony and sarcasm; satisfying my five senses as well. What this poem will bring for you has yet to be said but you will only find out when you read....settle in and enjoy. There's a five course, literary meal ahead...BON APPETTITE!!

Poem For The people Who Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry
by STEVEN DUNN

Relax. This won't last long.
Or if it does, or if the lines
make you sleepy or bored,
give in to sleep, turn on
the T.V., deal the cards.
This poem is built to withstand
such things. Its feelings
cannot be hurt. They exist
somewhere in the poet
and I am far away.
Pick it up anytime. Start it
In the middle if you wish.
It is as approachable as melodrama,
and can offer you violence
if it is violence you like. Look,
There's a man on a sidewalk;
the way his leg is quivering
he'll never be the same again.
This is your poem
and I know you're busy at the office
or the kids are on your last nerve.
Maybe it's sex you've always wanted.
Well they lie together
like the party's unbuttoned coats,
slumped on the bed
Waiting for drunken arms to move them.
I don't think you want me to go on;
everyone has his expectations, but this
is a poem for the entire family.
Right now, Budweiser
is dripping from a waterfall,
deodorants are hissing into armpits
of people yo resemble,
and the the two lovers are dressing now,
saying farewell.
I don't know what music this poem
can come up with, but clearly
it's needed. For it's apparent
they will never see each other again
and we need music for this
because there was never music when he or she
Left you standing on the corner.
You see, I want this poem to be nicer
than life. I want you to look at it
when anxiety zigzags your stomach
and the last tranquilizer is gone
and you need someone to tell you
I'll be here when you want me
like the sound inside a shell.
The poem is saying that to you now.
But don't give anything for this poem.
It doesn't expect much. It will never say more
than listening can explain.
Just keep it in your attache case
or in your house. And if you're not asleep
by now, or bored beyond sense,
the poem wants you to laugh. Laugh at
yourself, laugh at this poem, at all poetry.
Come on:
Good. Now here's what poetry can do.
Imagine yourself a caterpillar
There's an awful shrug and suddenly,
You're beautiful for as long as you live.

Missin' Me

I am all about self definition. Knowing who you are and being comfortable with who you are. But as human beings we have a tendency to lose sight of ourselves and what we should be. I will admit that I have done this plenty of times in my life and what I have done is learn to forgive myself and move on. This is a piece about those emotions that I felt during those times. Let me know what you think.....

MISSIN' ME
by LADY EMERALD

I miss you so
How could I have let you go?
When you were here
those around saw cheer
grins from ear to ear
no fears, no tears.

You were who you were
supposed to be
and without you
I am a different me.
Timid, depressed
smiles are less and less.

I need you back
so I can be whole.
I want to be me again
Tell me where to find
you
Me
The person I used to be.

Because since that day I
you went away
things have fallen
fallen down
fallen apart.

I want to have you back
I need to get you back
Me back
that part of me, you see
I lost.
Will you ever return?

Miscarriage by Jane Duran from Staying Alive: Unreal Poems for Unreal Times

There are some things in life that are inexplicable, hard to deal with and impact our human experiences greatly. The best way I found to deal with the things that impact us to the point of disruption is to view them through another set of eyes, to feel them with another heart and to speak of them as if they were to be part of someones else reality. Only then, when you learn to remove yourself from what ails you by learning that these things do not only happen to just YOU, but to everyone, can you appreciate and see what good comes from those negatives.

This is a poem takes one of the more heartbreaking things for a woman to ever have to deal with and goes in another direction other than the negative connotations that we are used to and helps us to feel with more than just our emotions. It helps us to feel with our entire being; mind, body and soul.

Miscarriage

The Womb refuse,
backed up,
its particles of silk
wasted, perish.
Breathless-
the cloudy silo,
the yolk sea.

The ceremony
of lifting
and enclosing
the womb refused.
The ceremony of no-child
followed.

On either side
its ostrich neck
its camel neck
wavered,
swallowed the high
midnight.

The womb held back.
It had an eye
for sand,
spread its cool
oranges and reds
on dry land,

and bright
and fierce
as a lair,
the womb bear-hugged
its dead,
and let go.

Ars Poetica

 I love to learn and to be informed. What is most intriguing for me is to question all that I have learned  using what new information I have at my fingertips. This poem called "Ars Poetica" comes from a style of poetry that questions the art of poetry, hence the Latin term. The Ars Poetica form of poetry is used  to question the basis of something so normal and routine using words. So this is what I've done.

ARS POETICA

How careful should we be of how we speak?

With all of language’s unwritten rules, should we even consider careful?

The audacity of lesser a figure to tell "top-of-the-food chain" dwellers

how to express ourselves is funny. Don’t you think?

Do you think? And about what?

As writers do we think before we speak or should we think about thinking to speak at all?

The art of paying attention. Like most things, we function on auto pilot.

I know the way home, therefore I get there.

I know my name, so when I hear it I respond.

What if we paid attention and focused more on the art of being.

Have I taken the necessary breathes to keep me my lungs full?

Is this apple really red? Green?

Is the driver in front of me really aware that I’m behind them?

Are my mirrors properly angled? Defrosted?

Language had an odd bed fellow- consciousness.

We cannot know what we say unless we are conscious of what words

 are, and the spaces in between.  The meanings that are given to them

are there for a reason.  Only consciousness allows us to know language.

Whether or not we know it well is up to us.

I, Too by Langston Hughes

There are a few works of literature that apply to ALL people no matter of race, color or creed. The most powerful words you will ever hear, in my opinion, come from a genuine heart which lives in a place called sincerity. And this is one very sincere message that can tell of any personal struggle any human has come face to face with.  I, Too is one of those poems that lives on its powerful words and their  reverberating meaning. This is a work not to be taken casually. Enjoy!


I, TOO

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed -

I, too, am America.