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A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Poem in Your Pocket Day!

It's Poem in Your Pocket Day today, amidst National Poetry Day. I think I'll write several poems of different types in honor of the day.

Here's a haiku:

He noses the ground
My dog loves those cheerios
Search well, little dog

Here's an ABAB Poem:


I'm going to Ireland
So freaked, I can't wait
I'm already packed
I've saved the date

I've brought many things
To trade with  the natives
Scout patches and clothes
I'm being creative

I've crammed my suitcase
And sometimes I wonder
If, with all that junk,
I'm making a blunder

At the end of the day
Will people just chuckle
When my giant suitcase
Won't zip up or buckle?

This is a Free Verse Poem I wrote for those women out there who keep lonely, silent vigil:

She lies in her bed at night
Next to a stranger
Who lives in her husband's skin,
Remembering what once was
And now is not. 
She wants him back--
The long ago him
Whose eyes lit up
When she came near
Who longed to cuddle on the couch
And go places together
Who spoke of dreams 
And planned with her,
Him, the father of her children,
Her knight in rusty armor.
She wants to reach out
To tell him why
They are so far apart
But there is no bridge.

He has gently walled off
His end
With computer keys
And push button kisses, 
Kind (or unkind) refusals,
And perhaps thoughts
Of another woman
Separate, always separate,
Just 1 and 1 with
No plus sign in the middle.
And there is no time
For deep conversations now.
Those they have, only seem to end
In vitriole
And spite. 
She's the Eternal wrong, now.
The less than.
When did that happen?
"So talk," he thunders.
What can she say to that?
His ears are closed.
His heart is dusty.
He is absent,
Grown distant and icy.
She used to batter at the wall
With bleeding fists
Praying with all her might
That God would 
Make a chink in the stone.
But that doesn't mean
There will be someone on the other side 
Of the wall
To listen.
She stands silent vigil
Because she will not cut the rope 
Or burn the bridge
Or leave the wall.
"Then make me a stone," she says.
A stone in his wall or a stone on his bridge.
"Make me a stone."
For stones last.
© 2016 by H. Linn Murphy
For more information on Poem in Your Pocket Day, try this site. And keep your favorite poem in your pocket for a lovely day!

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