Poems in the key of me-flat
 

Burial of the Dead

April is the kindest month. Mixing
rainwater with winter grass, browned
by the forgotten snow and cold. There
is warmth in the water now, and dust
is no longer charging fear into the old dead sockets
left by ice displacement.
A skull in ground, and not a care left in my mind.
And not a care left in my mind.

The lake was shimmering, sure. Also,
the breeze cooled my overwarm skin, but
the flashes of heat from your eye never quite left
the impression you had hoped.
The following winter’s blizzard chilled
every last bit of you from me.
Hope springs eternal, they say.

I never had hoped for a miracle.
I wasn’t dissappointed.

Ah, nice to see a thread started of your work!
Glad you started with this one, it is a very good piece of work!
Keep them coming. ;)

Very good work, I was proud to see that you thought enough of my work to post in my thread, and now you have your own. I, like angel, cant wait to see more. Thanks

Tree of a Wasted Life
 

Trees grow so slow that you don’t even notice
when they finally stop reaching upwards
and rest, content, waiting for the fall.
Waiting for their offspring to take root
they pray silently. All the while
getting only fatter.

A Misunderstanding During a Chance Encounter
 

A metal cricket once told me
“Clip tock clat tak zitipip.”
I think I misunderstood.
He wasn’t talking about solving world hunger
or even the meaning of life.
He was more concerned with the rainwater
seeping into his fizzling circuits.
(Robot crickets fear water, you see
for they rust on the inside,
if they get wet.)

ah, poor metal cricket!
That was a fun little read.

Midnight
 

The possum balances her way
across the fence.

Rounding the corner
she stops.

She sniffs the calm and
listens.

Nothing but the moon’s
silver light moves.

There is no danger here
so she rounds the corner.

the metal cricket is great. you have excellent taste in the absurd.

Burial is chilling and gave me a strange feeling... which is Always a good thing when it comes to words. Thank you and keep posting.

thanks guys, glad you liked 'em.

Fallout
 

It’s crazy how a mushroom cloud resembles a flower.

The blast kills instantly, some say
and wind bends trees away from ground zero
as they wince at the injustice of it all.

An atomic Christ washes away the sins along with everything else
the temple door made of cloth is torn again
and not even the stink of shoe sweat would annoy anymore.

For mount Olympus is just a mound of dust.
And fear really is in a handful of dust.