Unredeemed

Ugly is as ugly does
Pug-nosed child on the school bus
Dirty hair and dirty clothes
Dirty child gets no attention
Seated in the back of the classroom
Seated in the corner of the lunchroom
Eating a hot dog with no bun
Teachers stare and teachers talk
"Such a shame... a disgrace"
Talk won't fill an empty stomach
Or clean filth from the back of a knee.

Absent

Ma was a waitress for a few years,
Wiping down tables and bringing food to strangers.
At home our tables had pop bottle rings
And cereal crumbs.

Ma was a cashier for a few years,
Ringing up groceries and making small talk.
At home our refrigerator was empty -
Cheese sandwiches for dinner.

Ma was a baggage handler for a few years,
Loading up airplanes with suitcases.
At home we sat in front of the TV
Or looked outside at friends.

Ma was a girl for a few years,
Then she had babies.
At home we lay in the dark
Waiting for her to come home.

Flawless

Dirty dishes, dirty floors, dirty clothes.

Refrigerator lightbulb burnt out
Bathroom lightbulb burnt out
Smoke detector battery burnt out.

Cereal in the carpet
Pop stains on the table
Spaghettios stuck to the stove.

Leaking faucet
Broken door lock
Broken bunk beds.

Seven cats
Hundred roaches
Two children.

Dirty faces, dirty clothes, shamed eyes.

Barn

Not sure what I wanted to achieve with this one. Playing with rhymes.

The mothers don't care
When working the rows
To bring children there
It slows down their hoes.

They birth them like cows
Bear them out, no strain
A pack of wild sows
They're not worth their grain.

The master don't care
We're working that row
Our babies left there
It's us they don't know

They treat us like cows
They beat us, no strain
Then house us like sows
And feed us a grain.

Stolen - Edit 1

Uhhh... I think I changed like, one word. I still want to change the first line. It seems too cutesy. I could change it to "someone".

My cat Someone is stealing my breath.
Each morning I wake with less air in my lungs
Each breath I take is shallower than before
At times my lungs will rebel
Breathing deeply and taking me by surprise
Reminding me that I was almost unconscious.

Villanelle 1

This was hard - not because of the pattern - but to me it seems a little off, like the lines don't fit because of the rhyme. All I can do is improve on it later!

You are not there anymore,
Sitting in that kitchen chair
There is nothing to come back here for.

I hesitate to pass your door,
No television on, the furniture moved
You are not there anymore.

My soul is a rotten apple core,
Discarded and rotting, no use
There is nothing to come back here for.

Tears crowd my eyes until they are sore,
No use to me now, no use to you
You are not there anymore.

I never foresaw what the future had in store,
Although I knew one day I would say
There is nothing to come back here for.

No reason to make that right turn anymore,
The left turn takes me home, but
You are not there anymore,
There is nothing to come back here for.

Partisan

You tire me with your constant causes.
Every day you have a new rant,
A new soapbox -- before you
Step on one, you're staking out another.
You're always rallying and railing,
Ranting about the government,
Griping about big business,
Pro this and Anti that
Behind this and After that
To you I'm a lazy American
To you I'm a careless Consumer
To me you are one of a million
To me you are a cog
Fitting in where you can
Finding a quiet group so you can yell.

You tire me with your anger.
If it's true that actions speak louder than words
It's no wonder all I hear is your voice.

Lost

What do I have an eye for?
An empty chair
A kitchen bare
A house I pass no more.

What do I have an ear for?
An erosive cough
A "Ha!" of scoff
A knock on a bedroom door.

What do I have a care for?
A secret shared
A lifetime bared
A longing for before.

House

Sky blue drapes, one hundred years heavy
Covered in dust from Earth's creation
Too much upholstery smothering the present
Smells like wrinkled skin and decay

Light has to fight its way in
(Fresh air gave up years ago)
The past is jewel-laden lampshades and
Powder blue couch in crackling plastic

Books on shelves retain their dignity
Fighting for privacy when pried open
Exhaling their aged breath
Sighing their musty disdain

The house has memories -- almost too heavy,
Over time becoming their own creation
Existing almost outside of the present
Frozen in perpetual decay.

Stolen

My cat is stealing my breath.
Each morning I wake with less air in my lungs
Each breath I take is shallower than before
At times my lungs rebel
Breathing deeply and taking me by surprise
Reminding me that I was almost unconscious.

Interpretation

It's funny how different people interpret things. My sister interpreted this poem in a totally different way than I do.


No home to man should smell like a zoo
The heat burns the desperation and the dirt
A land lush by day, fruitful and ocean filled air
A land engaging by night, pitch and promising

Dirt roads, dirt sidewalks, dirt lawns
Windowless houses made of brick
Painted pink and sky blue, yellow and green
Dead pigs on a cloth on the dirt road

Always hands reaching out to grab
Reaching out, empty, wanting to be filled
“Hey lady, you give me mah-nee”
And then “Hey bitch, you give me mah-nee”

This is what they learned
They give humility
They give their pride
They give their lives.

Refugees

Who do you see when you look at their faces
Do you see your son
Your daughter
Your nephew
Your brother

Fat with hunger and smiling still
Do you see their color
Their tears
Their sores
Their death

To them life is an Indian-giver
Do you see the guns
The disease
The poverty
The nothingness

Covered in dirt and blood
Open wounds and hidden graves
Enemy to themselves
Involuntary volunteer to all else.

Always Untitled

Sometimes these will be from my journals, sometimes from the top of my head or bottom of my bottom.


My body --
A large garbage bag
Holding refuse, waste
Things that would otherwise
End up in a landfill
Safe and warm in my
Colon.