I dropped the ball.
I let go of the string.
I had it down, I had it right;
But when the time came, everything...
Well, everything went out the window.
All the preparations seemed
To vanish in a fog.
How could it go
So very wrong?
So hard to pick myself back up;
Pieces of myself scattered
All over the place.
I made that leap of faith
My self esteem has left the building;
Left with out a trace.
I blew the shot
I jumped the gun
Thinking way too much it seems;
Trying to remember, and forgetting...
Forgetting in the end...
To have fun.
Like an antagonist
In a story
Of the Universe
Is the opposite of matter:
Antimatter is the opposite
Of what matters.
Why does it matter?
You may ask.
I'll tell you.
Or the creation
Could turn out to be
A simple matter
For our planet.
And that matters
Listen to authority
And you must do as they say
But not necessarily as they do
Silence is golden
Especially when the laws and rules
Do not apply to you
Follow orders to the letter
Because when it's all over
They will need someone to blame
Who is "they" you may ask?
It's whoever is in authority
And you must do as they say.
Caren E. Salas
Disclaimer: This poem is written in light of the theme I am working on: the Apocalypse, and a world I imagined with machines, zombies and corrupt officials. It is not aimed at all authority figures. Just wanted to put that out there.... :)
The prompt today was a challenge: I could pick 2 vowels, and then write a poem using only those vowels. I chose A and E. I figured I'd better stick with a shorter form so I wrote a haiku. It's off my "theme", but what the heck, it was this or zombie moans and groans; and there are too many different vowels in the words zombie, and undead.
The cold stings, and burns
The ground feels like it's covered
With thousands of upturned barbs
Penetrating my already swollen feet.
Clouds loom, but produce no moisture
Save humidity, making the air thick
And hard to breathe.
The trees reach out with bony-fingered branches
Shivering without foliage to keep warm.
I cling to my sweater: tattered, buttons missing,
Mere threads giving it shape.
No flutter of wings breaks the frigid silence
No rustling leaves or scurrying creatures
To alter the empty isolation.
All are gone: starved, eaten or frozen.
Only the cold remains...
And the cold stings and burns.
Truth or dare
A child's game of chance
Reveal yourself, or take a risk
Does anybody really win?
Tell me, are you,
Afraid of the dark?
Do you fear tomorrow
And what lies ahead?
Do you remember how to dream?
Do you remember how to cry?
Have you anything to hide?
Sadly this poem was inspired in part by the events on 9/11. The photo is one I took of Los Angeles, which could have just as easily been a target of destruction. Although this is meant to be an Apocalyptic themed poem, I realized that at the time the thought had crossed my mind as well as (i'm guessing) many others'. Is this the beginning of the end?
An overgrowth of weeds
Like a crowd of out of control sports fans
Nearly obstructed the bright green leaves
And plump Brandywine tomatoes
Red as Santa's Christmas Eve suit
And indeed a gift: succulent flesh
Close to bursting through the delicate epidermis
Oddly out of place in the abandoned plot
No one there to protest it's removal
Or to protect the slender green beans
From indiscriminate picking
And although the corn stalks towered high
Above the troublesome flora
Which seemed determined to overtake it,
The cobs promised sweet kernals.
A tempting cornucopia of sustenance
Were it not for the enormous worms
Oozing out of the radioactive soil.
In case you were unaware, the month of April is national poetry month. Every year I go to Robert Lee Brewer's website, "Poetic Asides" where he posts a prompt for his annual "Poem a Day Challenge". Every year I try my best to keep up. So, I know what you are thinking...it's already April 6, Caren. Do not despair! I have been writing the poems, but this is the first day I've had a chance to post them. Hopefully I'll be able to post 2 every day until I catch up, but no promises. I will be doing something a little different this year, following a suggestion he made on his "pre-challenge" post. I don't know why I never thought of it myself. He said we could try using a theme. Hmmm, an interesting thought, but what sort of theme? His first prompt was "resistance" as in resisting an idea, a chore etc. All I could think of was "The Resistance" like from the Terminator movies. John Connor: Leader of The Resistance. (I thought Christian Bale was a nice choice for that part... just sayin'.) My train of thought went from there, and ended on this: The Apocalypse. Cool, huh? Leaves things wide open for some really cool stuff I think.
The reason I'm explaining all of this is that I anticipate some dark, possibly depressing, doomsday, no-hope types of poetry, and I don't want anyone worried that I have some underlying meaning related to myself. So here's my disclaimer: I'm fine. My inspirations will more likely be coming from zombie movies and my demented imagination (or possibly my 15 year old daughter's, because trust me, she is more demented than I am.) Well, buckle your seat-belts, my friends. Hopefully it will be an remarkable ride.
Sometimes you need a nudge, a push or even explosives to encourage the leap of faith that changes everything. Thanks to my friend Jane, whose answer to "I'll just watch," was "No. YOU should audition." and to my husband Bill, who agreed: "You should. Do it." You both must know you've created a monster. Love you.
It doesn't feel like love
It doesn't taste or smell like love
It doesn't sound or even look like love
But something tells you
That everything you think you know
And everything that you've been told
Doesn't really matter any more
The field is cleared, and the rules have changed
And life as you know it
Will never be the same.
Caren E. Salas
Prompt #25 A poem about love, or anti love.
I, as usual, always pick love.