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 May 2017 Kim
martin
Open mike night
 May 2017 Kim
martin
I sip at my beer in gentle fright
At the local community open-mike night
Never done this thing before
How it would go I wasn't too sure

My turn came soon, I think is this wise?
My casual air a thin disguise
Get close to the mike, speak slow and clear
They won't understand if they can't hear

I reel off the poems
They laugh and they clap
So in a month's time
Perhaps I'll go back...
last night

Tell us about your open-mike experiences.
 May 2017 Kim
Thomas P Owens Sr
the scars are not visible
but they are there
in the lifeless light
that shines no more
in the smile that contorts
your once angelic face
you are already the victim
of your jealous heart
which has vanquished love
your suspicious soul
has filled with the sad
lonely reality that I warned would come
on a quiet night
in an empty house
with so many years ahead
 May 2017 Kim
Thomas P Owens Sr
Zacharias
yellow, xanthic waves
voyager
underworld time seeker
reacher
quiet poet
orator, navigator
millennium lecturer
kerouac jack
incarnate
holy
Godsend furtively
earthbound
deliverance
conservator
benevolent
angel
so I did a to z...so here's Z2A...had to do it...this was much different originally but I mistakenly deleted it with 4 letters to go. I think it was better...but apparently wasn't meant to be
 May 2017 Kim
Nat Lipstadt

The Underground of HP

~
I do not joke

underworld, underground,
a subterranean nether-land,
a dark net
of a peculiar type of
wonderful human trafficking

all pathways are Venetian style,
each traveler rides in a tricked out, camouflaged gondola
of their own reckoning and design,
upon "rivers of good company"^

***"dude - ain't no such thing I seen
on o dropdown menu
provided by the House of York***

you are correct and yet, you are
correctable.

the way in
to this far more real world
than the surficial one
where you currently reside,
but only half alive,
is where poets speak
in the pentameter of plain english,
exchanging kindnesses and
magic tricks, tidbits of loveliness,
poems of sheerest nylon delight

their private revelations,
their second skin
home to shared state secrets
that are close guarded,
confided confidences, confident completely,
that nothing can rise exposed to the glare of the casual observer,
the accidental tourist,
who writes but
of and for the occasion
for self-glorification

the way in you ask?

don't make me laugh.

no one will extend an invitation -
memberships do not exist
you must invite yourself.

look to the frescoed, vaulted Vatican ceiling,
see the Creation of Adam,
a single finger-extending,
breathing life
when touching his/your reciprocal,
his/your creator

this is the way, the way in,
to self creation.

make the reach of your life,
stretch your soul across the terra firma of invisible terabytes
with the touch of a single fingertip

down below is where
the super stars reside,
who count not the vanity of quantities of cheap likes,
but who delight in the
rivets of insights,
well hid in the spaces between
line and letter
and dark secret messages,
trafficking in the best of
humanity, kindness

expose yourself, accepting your self
welcomed you will be,
accepted.

down below is where the real work gets done.

the realization, the actualization,
where the top of the tip
points down, the crown,
of the inverted pyramid

where poems are the
blood and stuff,
the kisses and the touches,
the ***** and the
opening into the berm,
the root, the stem, and the blossoming
of the real world of HP


^https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1913140/in-the-river-of-good-company/

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1915543/how-to-be-a-successful-poet-on-hp-in-two-parts/
Knolls of potatoes glow like gold
spreading the shine of good harvest
fading in the dark of her eyes.

The bounty is a curse on her purse
for as long as she recalls
market grows slow
prices rule low
abundance eats away the toil.

Yet so long her breathes willed
she would come back to the field
feeding herself away
to the soil.
Feb 26, 2017, 12.30 pm.
 May 2017 Kim
Thomas P Owens Sr
I'm a part time poet
though you likely wouldn't know it
I get in touch on the fly
just a glitch in my eye
between the patchwork smile
the catalog file
of a mind that finds an opening
once in a while

I could never do it full time you see
it would undoubtedly be the end of me
full time negativity
twenty four seven reality
round the clock visions of the truth cannot be
I'd sink too low to view the light
into my well of darkest night
where truth and clarity
reside
where truth and clarity
reside
I'd drink and smoke in my little cell
like Poe or Plath it would not end well
and unlike them there's nothing when I'm done
but words remembered by few
or none
so I'll keep smiling and read my lines
and dance among the thornless vines
and when I get that glitch
I'll play
in the well of truth and dreams
and stay
for just a moment
then I'll be back
before the dark gray turns to black
In the mango tree
a pair of crows
have made a new home.

While up on the roof
watering the plants
I see the heavenly sight
how they raise their beak
to swallow the trickles
before the heat ***** away
and having this little favor
they're back in usual mood
cawing at their hoarsest
stay away, stay away
come no way near nest

which I do my best to do
stealing a look when they're away
at the three blue nuggets
happy in the thought of
little red hungry mouths

broken
the mangoes would grow
around an empty home.
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