Poetics by Praxis

Childish Fable

We built a two houses out of glass, steeled
Against the world to fight for class and style.
They stood tall amongst the skyline, a pair
To stand the test of time. But they fell prey
When a big bad man huffed and puffed, blowing
Them down; we wouldn’t stand for bullying.
But he went to hide away in his hole
A mocking retreat that echoed his howls
Of laughter as he dug in deep. Taunting
Videos have led to years of pitched tents
In uniform hills, chasing a tricky
Evil. Meanwhile we calculated a risky
Move to attack another wily beast
With heinous weapons yet to be released.
Like the woodsman, we caught him unawares,
Began huffing about, putting on airs
Conveniently forgetting all about
The first until a video comes out…
A disturbing nightmare one wishes gone
Something that we want to leave with the dawn.

Original post by klyphe

Marine’s Corps

The sand invaded my underwear weeks
Ago. Sweat is now a second skin; water’s
Become an odd rarity having slipped
And slid through most of my summers. A beach
Is exactly what this place needs with girls
In bikinis. Or at least calendars.
Grass would be nice, too. Trees and some god damn
Shade. Nothing could beat heat better than leaves.
Burnt yellow was the only color this place
Could make; flowers were only potted on
rooftops. Hidden away from a guy on
Riding up in a turret on a Humvee,
Watching for glints and flashes signaling
Danger. A bird flew overhead, landed
Front and center, rolling towards the truck.
It stopped, pulled-pin, a shadow on the ground.
I went down to greet it, give it a hug,
A long lost friend coming to take me home,
To leafy oaks next to enduring creeks
Away from sulfurous deserts and suns.

-Started writing this for an exercise in the Poetics Seminar, but it had other ideas… It’s not where I wanted to go with it necessarily, but it’s close.

Original post by klyphe

Mother’s look upon Autumn

A lingering greenscape, spotted brightly
With yellowed squash and large orange pumpkins.
A time for harvest and celebrating Spring’s
Abundant growth. A rich reward for those
Who worked so hard on hot and humid days
And only just got off a nine to five
Desk job. Hours of pulling weeds along
With soil, sweat and labored breathing can
Finally be reaped. The last few berries
Drag on a branch, waiting for a sharp eye.
Raised gardens are left to fallow while limbs
Bare all to Winter’s cold inspection; plants
Can be deemed to weak for next year’s labors.
The dying sky is grey, the wind more chill…
Nestling in front of a fireplace
A glass of wine in hand to share a tale
about the season’s best times. Laughter mingles
With wood popping in mirth until it’s down
To embers lazily blinking with light.

Original post by klyphe