Tag Archives: November Chapbook Challenge 2017

{What Stayed Behind}

Please remember me  when the sun goes down when the moon is round remember me. – The Reverend Horton Heat   . Remember her in moon -light, words spilled to sea. In the slight slant of sky that says rain … Continue reading

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Pre-amble

{What Came Before} First things first, I’ma say all the words inside my head… – Imagine Dragons   .. She breathes fire and wonders why the world burns so. In the beginning was the word, and she kerned herself sane, … Continue reading

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Proem

.. This poem is the thing that comes before. The breath. The sigh. The pre -amble under a starstung sky. She’s getting ready. She’s all -ready revved, and realized she’s ridiculously set for all this sun. One day she’ll look … Continue reading

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Please Pardon This Poem’s (Fairy) Dust

‘Cause I’m under construction everyone so you’ll have to mind the mess I’m under some construction ………………………..– No Doubt   . She’s longing to be exquisite in her own bright skin, so she’s filling in between the lines with sprite, … Continue reading

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Building Permits for a Fragile Castle

And if a bird can speak, who once was a dinosaur, And a dog can dream; should it be implausible  That a man might supervise The construction of light – Projekct Two     .. We’re gonna build it up-up-up, of our own … Continue reading

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Schooled Poem

 . This poem knows a thing or two, turns out. Doubt her if you must, but she’s been around the block and down the street and see that corner over there? She ruled it, once. She’s once bitten, twice shy. … Continue reading

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Making Up for Lost

Oh, some pages turned Some bridges burned But there were lessons learned – Carrie Underwood .. Time. She spent a few too many years spending it …………..(energy, tears) on things that didn’t really matter. Beats. Somewhere, somehow, the rhythm of … Continue reading

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One’s Fill

.. This poem is full of it, to overflowing. Plenty o’ this, and plenty o’ that. She’s all that and a bag of chips. Abundant lips, iambic feet. Treat her to the rhythm of some -thing new, a wealth of … Continue reading

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Scoundrel Dragons

You’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good, baby you’re no good. – Linda Ronstadt ;; Too much is still rearranging. Changing. Are they breathing fire or cotton candy fluff? Wasn’t it enough that they had teeth, and talons? … Continue reading

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She Might Just Ask You If You Can Spare a Dollar

.. This poem is up to no good. She’s a dirty rotten scoundrel, a mangy mongrel stray. She’s been on the streets for days and days without a shower or a song. Frankly, she’s got nothing left, and nothing left … Continue reading

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