Poems and Poetry

life choices poems

The New | A Poem by Tara Lynn Hawk

Long hikes
Eat well
Show compassion towards animals
Spend less
Give unused things away
Reach out more
Clean out the junk drawer
All these things
The long lists
Goals, desires
But what
What are you doing right now

Visit Tara at https://www.taralynnhawk.com/.

Tara’s second digital chapbook, Rhetorical Wanderlust, will be available on Smashwords in late January 2018.

Someday | A Poem by H.G. Warrender

someday I will
get up early
rising from tangled sheets
in my own apartment
I will watch the sunrise.

someday I will go
to small cafes
and write for hours
drinking lattes that taste
like dreams;

I will walk
through stars I cannot see
passing under streetlamps
in a city;
somewhere to go.

someday I will ride
a glass elevator to
the top of the world
and then jump off
just to feel the wind in my hair,

I will go to shows
in cheap seats
I will take polaroids with friends
whose names I later forget
I will write everything.

someday I will

Sonnet of a Night Owl | A Poem by Daniel McGee

I know so well the warmth of cold moonlight,
For night is home to all keen thought, blissfully unmaligned.
Helios holds no sway with me, his journey out of sight,
Selene, my muse, guides my sweet nocturnal mind.

Supine, I float, and watch my ethereal phosphenes fly,
Till epiphany alights and I feverishly spring to write.
Mellifluous the ring of ink, as the paper I glorify,
Eloquent with ease, till the sharp break of Aurora’s light.

The ephemerality of my life seems with my heart to brawl,
Under shadow, ponder I, if unturned I leave life’s stone.
Yet Nyx’s reign inveigles me like sonorous siren call,
And so I sit, to on paper bleed, on my solemn wooden throne.

To live and write in lonely dark is my god-given right,
I’d rather live to shine in shadow than disappear in light.

Thursday Morning 4:00 O’Clock | A Poem by Roy Pullam

I cannot sleep
The roll and toss
Twists the covers
But finds no position
For me
To return to dreams
The face of the clock
Mocks me
With its early hour
The slow movement of hands
Like an obscene gesture
Points directly
In my direction
I do not
Want to get up again
The torture
Of fatigue
Lingers from weeks
Of not resting
I cannot turn off
A series of thoughts
That might never happen
How I long
For the repose
Of my youth
When heavy eyes
Led to a depth
Of unconsciousness
But concerns are with me
The black dog
Nipping at my heels
How I smell
His breath
In the bite
Of guilt
In a host
Of petty details
That in their weight
Makes little difference
I will give up again
Carrying the heaviness
That bends my back
Into the living room
The light is harsh
My eyes convulse
I wait for them
To adjust
Picking a book
From the side
Of the couch
Pausing for a moment
To get the interrupted context
Prior to reading
The few chapters
Before my darling
Rises from her bed

Broken Vowels | A Poem by Roy Pullam

I hear your story
How you are unhappy
How you married
Far too young
How you have grown apart
I listen
Not fully understanding
How you let
Distance grow
Between you
Why you are
Walking away
My marriage
Merged us
So much
That if I left
I would leave
Some of me
And take
Much of her
With me
You find ease
In breaking vowels
In the stray
Led by temptation
I listen
But I do not hear
What you say
My eyes narrow
As I try
To see your side
Love grows and changes
You never did

The Scout | A Poem by Roy Pullam

He came
To all the games
Sitting high
In the stands
Hoping to not gather attention
Watching carefully
The kid’s moves
Without the ball
The grace
Of the seventeen year old boy
He followed
After practice
Deep into the inner city
Knowing the mother
Cleaned offices
In the gleaming towers
No father
But four younger children
The apartment crowded
But empty
Of so many things
That mattered
The family’s only hope
The skills
That came
With the basketball
No other route
Lay beyond the drugs
Beyond the violence
She saw everyday
On her way to work
The scout
Not the only one
Sniffing around
Since the headlines
Men whose Gucci shoes
Normally never
Walked the halls
Of the tenement
Came visiting
With promises
Of bright future
Opportunities for her
For the children
Far beyond
This gray life
But she had seen others
Hustled off
Used up
And dropped down
Where they began
The promise ashes
The good life gone
He was a student
Reading and learning
He, unique
Not like the rest
Whose only shot
Was the rattle
Of the rim
And she would
Take no less
Than the life change
That came
With an education
She asked tough questions
Questions that eliminated
Sports factories
Questions that
Would involve
More personal hardship
But assure the future
Of her eldest child
Her sacrifice
So few
Were willing to make
She heard their offer
Then sent so many
On their way
Scouts find talent
Make promises
Get a paper signed
Then move on
To the next prospect
She wanted more
Poor but proud
A good mother
In the whirlwind
Of big time sports