What if I said no? A husbands rant -Promote Yourself

What if I said no,

What if I didn’t go?

Why won’t you leave me,

Go by yourself to see.

I haven’t lost one thing,

Nothing needed I can bring.

I know I’ll be annoyed,

Not once have I enjoyed.

Cart always pulls to right,

Never another one in sight.

Change carts and yet still,

Always get the bad wheel.

Items needed not in stock,

Empty shelves me they’ll mock.

Most list items once found,

Then the registers go down.

Didn’t want to be here,

After this I’ll need beer.

Hope you know I’m irritated,

By now you probably anticipated.

Shopping is such a chore,

Hate it more and more.

Worst part of my day,

Please, why can’t I stay?

By iamfunny2 and posted on okaywhatif.com. I’m from the U.S. and I hadn’t written any poetry since I was in school over 20 years ago until I started my blog in July of this year.

‘Pondering Mysteries’ – Promote Yourself

I’d like to submit this poem mine to, “Promote Myself”. http://ampitheaterwords.wordpress.com/

Of what may become of this rose
only fate will know.
Its life’s string can be just as frail as our own.
Somehow much more beautiful in its sun touched petals.
The perfect drop of water hanging off its bent red cloth,
asking for just a little bit more time on the velvety smooth surface.
The rose is nothing exceptionally unusual
that it would have men and women glorifying its presence
more than their gods.
The rose calls, and it is heard.
Tainted with pain, painted with chivalry.
The rose is what stands above the rest;
without knowing why.

-Stephanie Matthews

 

Panthalassa – Promote Yourself

They say you can drown
In just a few inches of water

Well I drowned that night

As naked as the day
That I wish I wasn’t born on
In the tepid water
Of what looked like a bathtub to you,
But was Panthalassa for me.

It was our last night together –
You said
You’d lost your warmth towards me –
You said

I sat there.
Water circling iceberg knees.
In your arms
Violently weeping for an hour and a half.
No me
No body or being
Just melancholy.

And the hope that you would lower me
Into that tepid water.

I drowned that night.

Or at least wished that I had.

 Christopher Flame
christopherflame.wordpress.com