NaPoWriMo Official Poem #2 and Unofficial #3 & #4
Last
night I actually read a couple of last year’s poems in a pub for open mic
night. I never read my poetry publically as it feels so close to me. It is like
opening up my head for others to peek inside, which is really scary.
Tonight’s
postings are little bits of the scribbles I wrote at the pub last night (during
the music and a loud birthday party---so be kind) and also my ten minute poem
that has been brewing in my head today.
Today
is World Autism Day, but my mind kept getting more personal than the whole world---always going
back to my whole world and the first two lines wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote
the rest tonight.
The Perfect Stranger
“Congratulations
it’s a boy!”
Words
that used to bring such joy
Now
gives me pause
Pondering
if there will be cause
To
pass on books and resources
Late
night bolstering of souls
Connecting
this joy filled couple
To
worlds that seem at other poles
No
cause to stumble,
as
there is reason to celebrate
Not
dissipate
the
misty ring of hope
The
news of a male heir
fills
this air
With
laughter and jokes
From
most of the folks
They
say he’ll have his mother’s eyes
They
poke at his father’s unusual nose
They
will be fine as long as there are ten fingers and toes
They
all agree he will be beautiful!
That
is a fact
True,
I do not yet know the second act
It
is pre-show
And
all mother’s know
They
must ready their darlings
Get
them prepared to go
On
the world stage
Turning
another page
In
the Creator’s book
“Look
at this boy!”
Says
another onlooker of joy
Putting
the picture of a sweet, tiny face upturned
Outlined
in white against fuzzy black
Into
my hand
However
he develops, I am not concerned
In
this circle, they have his back
He
is part of the exceptional expected clan
Ring a Frightful Rose (pub poem #1)
The
monster ball
Invited
the flowers all
They
danced and danced
It
was a tremendous romance
Until
the rose’s pedals fell
The roses called out
The
monsters did shout
Bringing
silence to that Fall
I Never Was Good at Rubrik’s Cubes (pub poem #2)
Rude
poetry will be the death of me
A
burp, a fart, a fizzle,
A
whistle, a wart, a worm
I
squirm from the pictures racing ahead
And
come to a full stop
Plop!
I hear the sound of fat raindrops go splat
Onto
the sidewalk of my empty brain in pain
Wandering
down spooky halls
And
around crowded, ugly malls
I
march, march, march,
Waiting
to munch a mushy pen top
Writing
way too slow to know
What
is what and who is who
Where
is where and if cows moo
I
stew
Boiling,
burning, blistering HOT
Nothing
Plop!
Plop! Fizz! Fizz!
Oh what a relief it is NOT!
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