More poetry

Broken Glass and Wings

Walking on shards of glass
God forbid I offend
God forbid I upset the already
Tipped balance within this place
You call home
But I call bottled purgatory

Trapped I
Run out of air
The energy fades
I start to give in
To the idea that I’ll never be strong enough
To break out; to take that breath of
Fresh air and say,
“I’m free”

I’m more than tired of
Repenting for sins I didn’t commit;
Containing ones I feel like committing
In my frustration, anger,
Pushed-to-the-edge brokenness

The butterfly is in the net
The color is fading
Wings are curling inward as they
Find themselves useless

Broken glass and wings never worked together anyway

1. Object Poem Using Metaphors
Paintbrush

The paintbrush is a witch’s broom
Its bristles are like hair in need of a cut
The hair is as fine as rabbit fur
The handle is a skinny torpedo
It explodes in my hand as I hold it
And I am a masterpiece maker

2. A Fable
FM

She sings a song as he listens.
Something about it doesn’t feel right
Yet everyone swears it’s the best.
To him, the notes are sour,
The words are false.
He tries to change his attitude
But the music becomes unnerving.
Left with no other choices,
He changes the station.

3. The Dream Metaphor
School Nights

Where am I?
These faces are familiar
But I don’t really know who they belong to.
I know this place but I
Have a feeling that it’s not the same.
Somehow I know I’m expected here
But I never wanted this.
I am lost in a labyrinth of hallways.
Rooms are shifting; stairs are becoming
Steeper until I’m climbing a ladder.
I left this school years ago,
What am I doing here?
Please God, don’t make me
Go through this again…I can’t.
Doors are slamming shut.
I can’t get out.

WAKE UP!

4. Apocryphilia
Rapunzel

Her tower was traded for a
Doublewide in the trailer park.
Why let down your hair
When you can let down
Your whole family?
Her prince, with newfound sight,
Used it to look for an old flame.
Oh, the things fairy tales are made of.

5. A family snapshot
Nita

This is my aunt.
She looks glamorous with the
Cigarette and sable hair,
Like a movie star of the 50’s.
Her pink fluffy boa
And Elizabeth Taylor eyes
Make me wonder how the photos
On Grandma’s wall are real.
These people are too beautiful
To be aunts and uncles.

How could this star of silver screen
Develop cancer?
Death becomes so real
When you see it in print.
I remember the phone call
When she was dying
And my hand grabbing a suitcase
As if by reflex.
I remember her worrying about the
Contact lens that she took out shortly
Before it happened.
What a negative way to end
A positive life.

6. Apocryphilia (#2)
Peter Piper

Where’s the peck of pickled peppers?
Probably prone to be not be found
Because Peter Piper switched purposely
To the metric system
When he placed the package of
Jalapeno poppers on a plane
To Paris.
“The peck is profoundly outdated,” he said.
“It’s liters and meters and kilos and such
With Parisian party people.
It’s possible you’ll never pass
A peck again.”
People promise to peruse the area,
But Peter Piper put his peppers
Where no ‘standard’ person’s paw could find.