‘Bad’ Poetry Sunday from a Non Poet

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yes, ‘bad’ poetry from a non-poet Sunday is back – ha!

 

 

IT’S ALL RANDOM

 

1.

The giant she’d become

Pleased her

She passed a church singing

Tore off the roof

Because she could

(see all the people?)

Singing silenced

Tiny people looked up

At her giant mooned face

They thought, she thought,

She is God.

 

2.

A fine morning

She found fifty-two emails

Oh how fifty-one adored her!

But that one

Who did not

Would not could not chose not

Caught in her throat

Tore at her brain

She read the words

Once twice thrice

The words bloated

Sagging heavy in the middle and outward

She walked to town

On slippery feet and happenstance notions

But the words fattened ever more

Bloated fly words, blue fly shoo

She ran home, slipping on the grease

Of oozing words; hid in her bedroom

The words found her, weighing

Down down the bedroom roof, down

Down sagging upon her poor sore head

Until that head bowed in supplication

The heavy heavy words grew bolder

Split the roof asunder

And all the bloated oozing words laid

Atop her—writhing lazy

A lover could not be as complete

—so was spent the last day

Of her life well-known

 

3.

He liked to break things on purpose

Cell left in pocket off to the washer

Oh dear I dropped your camera

There’s his hip, hop, hip

bump against the table

Comes crash and splintering

Of beloved glass memories

“I burnt the teapot, my love;

was it a favorite?”

Once the car ran, until it did into a tree

 

she doesn’t know why she didn’t see it coming

 

4.

 

 

Her life is an ellipsis . . .

. . . inside each tiny little dot

she lives . . . and even in the pauses . . .

between them she could be found

. . . but no one tried . . . .

 

-kat magendie

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