Friday Nite Poetry: Passing Strange

Paper Weaving

Paper Weaving (Photo credit: FeatheredTar)

So folks, I am going to do something I have never done on this blog before. I am going to write a few new poems (I don’t know how many) as I go in posting this. I hope you enjoy them. I cannot promise they won’t end up weird, as I am in a weird sort of mood. Also, I would like to add a little incentive to all my followers out there. Anyone who reblogs, links, or retweets this post so I can showcase my two wonderful books for sale (eyes to the right of your screen, gentle readers) will receive a link to a free pdf of my chapbook “The Delicate Art of Saying Yes.” Now, back to those potentially strange poems:


Wrinkled receipts on the kitchen table
day old coffee in the French press
half eaten toast on a plate
all signs of a life in constant transition

and reused
surround a full kitchen sink

laundry piles
in odd corners
collecting odd odors
and odd tenants

none of this
is as cluttered
as the contents
of an exhausted
but frantic mind

I like it this way though
this swirling mess
this unkempt mass
not in my space
but in my soul

it drives
it guides
it finds
me where I need to be
to make the moves
to make the choices
that keep me building
what passes for a life



Fur and
feet and
fickle fury
all the finest traits
of a companion
and a goddess

We keep you
kept you
will have you
in our shrines
of carpet
and down
and particle board
a temple fit
for such capricious might

We sacrifice
and food
to appease you
to coax you
to take
what little love
we can from you

Then we curse you
when you withhold
even though
we saw it coming
and then
we do it all again



Braving the acid from your tongue
braving the weight of your ennui
braving the cold evenings long
braving them for the end I can’t see

You hold the key to salvation
you hold the key to all the change
you hold the key to deprivation
you hold them and it seems so strange

Because you will not let them go
because you cannot see it
because you hold the others low
because you refuse to be it

To be the means to your own end
to be an actor on this stage
to be your brother’s better friend
to free him from his cage

But that’s the task set before me
that is my job I suppose
to keep buzzing about until you see
until you open the mind you keep closed


So there they are, three new poems created on the spot. Don’t forget to share this post if you want your free pdf of “Delicate Art of Saying Yes.” See you all next time!



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