Poems and Poetry

human folly poems

Our Destiny | A Poem by Richard Livermore

As long as the sky is there
to be scaled and there is
a fault-line beyond
the horizon that wasn’t there

in the past, and the fault-line
swallows the road
to the mountain, nothing
will ever be done.

We’ll sit on our haunches
like Australopithicus
and offer ourselves
to the sabre-toothed cat

until we are paid for,
and, when we are done,
we’ll hide our bones in the earth
and wait to be found.

 
Visit Richard at https://www.chanticleer-press.com/magazine.html.


Fresh Lawn | A Poem by Cameron Davis

Swords of grass knife the air,
Though It is unharmed.
Eventually, the winds greet
with waves of gusts;
Curling the clouds into honeycomb.
Dewy blades spring,
Up into autumnal fresh morning;
Unfolding emerald. Jaded insects persist
With insignificant tasks.
Roaring engine: shortens, neatens,
Tames. The wheels roll over nature;
Destroyed.


Winning | A Poem by J.K. Durick

We celebrate to celebrate
ourselves

We become the celebration
all swagger and swirl
swig and swell

Enough for back then
for now
momentous, momentary

Eventually, they call us a cab
and the night turns back into
itself

Like losing it falls
back into
the black hole of time.


A Dish Served Cold | A Poem by Roy Pullam

In the early hours
Of the morning
He faced his computer
Reading lines
On the local chat room
Hurtful things
Written by anonymous contributors
Words that stung
Harsher than a wasp sting
things that were added on
By other parties
In the dog pile
That often followed
Such postings
He thought of a longtime grudge
The toxins
Stored from his youth
The pain
His fist
Could not avenge
In the moment
He grasped his payback
His fingers assaulted the keys
Flashing a rumor
On the screen
Pressing send
Safe behind the shelter
Of a cute name
He had manufactured
For such an occasion
Reading with satisfaction
The half truth he had written
A black eye would heal
But this
Would be read
Would be remembered
And other trolls
Would add
Their own venom
Like hyenas
Gathering to finish
The kill

It’s Divine | A Poem by Robin Wyatt Dunn

it’s divine
headache and muesli
sharp cotton
the smell of the gas processor
and the smiles of the harsh women

manning the snack tables
watching for UFOs
tagging their friends in tweets

as we begin the shakedown
this much for March
your life
this much for eternity
your marled face

each man
wonders at the shape of his horizon
orbiting the whirling dervish
of this millenial prize

horror out of time:
we each know the worth of the other
written over our scarves

the mounting terror of the night
and the light over the mountains
demons under the ground
and the shape of the stars
like the shape of your eyes

we’re marching into the basement
to photograph celebrities

and I’ve seen god
over the cement

one two three
one two three

the 1970s religion
and Shel Silverstein
shake my body into itself.
I stand ready with the water bottles

watching my country collapse

Visit Robin at http://www.robindunn.com.