There Will Come Tomorrow, and After – Promote Yourself

If when I die sorrow
brings thee moments of mistrusting breath,
know that after my cold enfolding death
there will still come a rising, and setting of tomorrow.

And if thou not find comforts name
in dew-struck gardens of leaves and flowers unfurled,
know that for thee they have opened and uncurled
and its flowers will accept tears and rain the same.

Yet if thou shall find hands to comfort thee-
hands that not remind thee of mine own,
then my cold enfolding death will have shown
that our love was nothing I thought it be.

– John Boome

Blog: johnboomepoetry.wordpress.com
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I live in the United States, WA

Greatest influences for my poetry are Sylvia Plath, Walt Whitman, John Donne, Lang Leav, and Robert Frost.

 

Pins and needles – Promote Yourself

No means to afford the psychotropic medications

The wheel is turning

A plot off course

Keel without rudder

Braving storms in circles

Tossed about taking hits

Warm hand in hand

Tender Voice Speaking…

But can’t hear a thing above the roar of a fierce wind

Firm grip

held close

Yet still…

Beyond reach

 

The breaking heart

Suffering in silence

Pain without violence

No bruises

perforations

lacerations

broken bones

 

Seen from afar

In wheelchairs

On crutches

Countenances belying

Being gripped in anguish’s clutches

Becomes known

 

The torn garments

The stained Filthy rags

The weathered  jeans

Too tender on the skin

To want to exchange for new

 

The physical threats

The pushes and shoves

The jostling about

Fitful night dreams

Night sweats

Tossed and turned

The fill

The agitation

The cleansing cycle

The spin

The rinse

The tumbling dry

The ironing

The sorting

The hanging

The storing

 

When all is said and done

Still picking lint from each other’s clothes

And Bloodstains remain…

On brand new dress shirts

From a few pins left in it

And if it doesn’t fit

Once removed…

How can one ever get it to go back

Neatly  folded

Into a clear protective sleeve?

 

Once made aware of

The only freedom

Freely given

At great cost

 

We find fault in others

While history blaringly declares

We have burned, beheaded, hung, tortured

Marched against

Slain our own…

Time and again

Just as we do now

Infiltrated by treachery

Closeness…

Closing the gap of striking distance

Betrayed with a kiss

 

Eagles, hawks and owls ever vigil

Observe in silence

On fence-posts

Anthony Gomaz

Words – Promote Yourself

Rain falling

Spilling

Like the ink of a pen

That needs refilling

Covers everything

That needs to be said

But the words have run dry

The conversation is dead

The elephant

Fills the entire room

Doesn’t leave enough air

Only impending doom

Strangles those wanting

To let words out

But the big, hulking spider

Went up the waterspout

Nothing with meaning

is left for anyone to say

Only hot air coming in

And the debt no one wants to pay

Hatred coats tongues

Along with fire and despair

The debate seems to have ended

Has no hope of going anywhere

Let the people talk

Let the words flow

If you start with one sound

You might reap what you sow

Alex Hite

My name is Alex. I write on a blog called Writing With Rhythm, at https://acriticinthecrowd.wordpress.com/ . Your blog was brought to my attention when you all favorited a few of my poems. It would be an honor to be featured on your blog with some of my poetry. I would love to get feedback and more views, and your blog seems like the perfect place to do it. I am going to share one of my favorite poems of mine

Thank you for the opportunity to possibly get read on your blog. I can’t wait to see what happens next.