Today I am going to share a poem that I revamped with inspiration from my blog post about hyperthymesia last week. I may add some more later to develop it into a slam poem. Enjoy:
RUDE!
She never came in first.
Never won a game.
Been a close second… every now and then.
Well she was the first loser if that counts.
She always found a way to drop the ball
Or Run the bases backwards
Sometimes forgot the rules
Just couldn’t remember how to find home
Thought her name was “You’re Out”
Started answering to it
Stopped suiting up
average.
A C-student.
An overachiever that never achieved the top spot.
Kept trying nonetheless.
And with him,
the same.
Not first.
Never could beat out the life struggles,
the art,
the obligations,
the needs of everyone else
Whoever said love is a gamble
Told the truth .
Because the house always wins.
Never her.
Nor her heart.
Always second.
Just an honorable mention
And repression happens to be her concession prize
It seemed the only key to her happiness
Was a bad memory…
It has been a long, long time sine I have posted a Blog Poetry Slam, but I was feeling in a poetry kind of mood and thought it would be appropriate… So to recap, what is the Blog Poetry Slam?:
EveryTuesday I will put up a topic, word, or picture. Then I would like all the poets (well everyone actually) to pen a verse or two or ten about the particular subject or that fits with the picture posted. You can go in any kind of direction from the topic you see fit. It will be a good way to exercise your writing muscles and also to enjoy the work of others. Also feel free to drop the links to your blogs or websites so we can all get to know each other. Also, drop me emails to suggest topics or pictures (even songs). So, I will start off with today’s topic, Apology, with a piece I already have written, I will write a new one in the comments with you guys.
sometimes the hardest words to say... or hear
I wanted to write you a poem so cliche…
So you would fall asleep in my arms
So I could stroke your face
And let my finger wipe away your anger
And hold you close enough for my apologies enter all of our cells through osmosis
For my tears to fall on your cheek
And the heat of your rage make them evaporate
Leaving only the salt of my sorries
To season this meal of forgiveness
So it would be palatable so you would receive it
Instead of biting your tongue to withhold I love yous
But… You are most articulate in your silence
You said more in those thoughtful gentle smiles
Than with your jubilant reports
But you wrote dissertations of despair
With your saddened, worried eyes
And your furrowed brow and scowl of disgust
that day…
sigh, that day.
Crashed on my shore of shame harder than any of those words
those words…
sigh, those words.
a silent high tide I’d like to think.
That day…
sigh, that day.
I thought your Medusa gaze would surely turn your thoughts to stone
Aimed at me to make me guilt’s martyr
Those silences were awkward…
but appropriate.
And I wish my silence could respond with sincere apologies
I love to slam, but I generally don’t do all that well, but I don’t care, this is my ode to slam poetry. (I will probably slam this piece, lol)
I am not a slam poet, I just play one on TV.
If a slam poem is worth a thousand pictures
….the ones I hold
Must not be very photogenic
Goofy shy, crooked smiles
Awkward angles
Light not quite right
Head cocked to the side
Eyes closed.
You know, metaphors no one quite gets
Or ignores because of my laid back delivery
Outfit not fly enough
Or maybe too fly for me
Oh wait… wait… wait
Maybe I don’t gesticulate…. you know move my arms to and fro
To conduct the judges to give me a 10
Well, eff this orchestra
I’ll go two-step with my pen to the beat of a different drummer
I’m just gonna whip my hair back and forth to the violins.
and stand over here and sip my sour grapes chased with poetry punch
I ain’t wanna be in this stupid slam anyway
I only signed up for this because I couldn’t afford the cover charge.
Well this recession IS a bitch.
*shrug*
Or maybe they don’t like me because last time I spit rhymes written on paper
So all the heat I delivered turned into water vapor
You know, steam
Well in this case “self of steam” vanished
Poof gone.
But guess what I am back!
Yup, slamming
I don’t care.
Guess I’m a glutton for punishment.
…and cake. and chips… and sushi… Wait, what… was I saying?
Oh yeah I am still up in this mug
And I didn’t mean to get messy
But I’m gonna smear my heart all cross the stage
And I’m leaving my mess here for you to clean up with your undivided attention
Oops, you missed a spot, I’ll wait.
Okay got it all?
Cool, let’s continue..
Just need ya to know
I can’t photoshop my stanzas
Airbrush my ideas.
Crop out my insights
Re-size my sincerity.
Or even re-sketch shit for ya.
It is what it is.
And maybe I’m just not a slam poet
Just a poet, who happens to slam.
Sometimes the strangest or smallest things can attract you to someone… Here is a poem about one of those things…. enjoy:
simply put...
the olfactory sensation
of your natural scent
led my descent into dirty thoughts
of things I ought
not.
do.
i fought my lust
and lost
with flying colors
and that was quite a feat
and I never knew defeat
could smell…
so….
