Each month, write a new collection.
Ethics ViolationProfessional distance Do not disclose.Damn good at thatI am.In chocolate mud of messy world.Autonomous you Transforms.Catch me kiteOn days I’m downKeep me high inthe sky.With distance clearHold my woundsIts hard sometimesTo fly.When error memory Haunts ofFlight into BrambleStroke my heartWith gentlenesssLet wisdom fillMy sail.
WOW! "In chocolate mud of messy world."That's an amazing stanza! The poem is great too!
Grandpa ShultzGrandpa Shultzwas a painterfor LA Unifiedhe only usedbrushes and didn’tlike rollershe probably neverheard of spray paintor just for carsGrandpa could look atthe color on a wall andmix paint to match itquite a trickmix wet paintto match drya few years after he diedwhen we were first marriedI drove out to Hemetfor a number ofSaturdays to paintGrandma Shultz’s windowsthe first and last time wewere on equal adult termsa painters wife is a tough critic
I may not follow some of the prompts. The last two didn't seem to work for me, or maybe they need to churn a little longer. :)
If the prompt inspires you to write ANYTHING then it's done its job. Great poem!
Right, that is what I figure.
Those Despised ThingsI supposeThat it is part of human nature,To violateOne's ethics on a continualOr at least habitual basis.Now, some may disagreeWith my "little" hypothesis,But I suppose that I don't care.My truth is based on what's True for me and from what I've gathered to be true from personal observations. In that case, I suppose all doubters and naysayersHave grounds for argument and persuasion.Just as in any other topicTo be discussed or debated, surely.However,My point is this:That my own lifeIs at times disturbingly hypocriticalWhile at others,Maybe too bound to a certain moraleOr standard of character.I rather not discussTo what degreesI am disobedientTo myself and others and social structuresIncluding government and religious sectors.Even though,I long mostTo boastOf my wrongdoings;Wrongdoings That may be definedAs those very thingsWhich well up the most Dispicable yet most pleasurable amounts ofPride,These things are often looked down uponBy American tradition,Christian in essence,In which either liberal or conservative Find no preference.If I were to define and describe my sins,I could not find a reaction that suits me.I confess to whom I do.No matter what I say,There may be disbelievers, supporters, protestors and fans. To be burned at a stake,Though hauntingly romantic it may seemIn some offbeat and eerie way of meditating on and envyingthe mystery and lure of the past.I still cannot seem to totallyFind social and literal suicide seducing.Despite moments of exhibitionist whimsThat lead me I don't know where.
Great poem Corrina. Would you post that one from the workshop too!
Thank you. Sure I will. Your wish is my command.