Poem of the Week: Villanelle of Courage

Villanelle of Courage
March 19, 2017

I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.
I’ve moaned enough groans and cried enough tears.
Time to store my self-pity on the shelf.

For too long, I’ve felt like a hapless whelp,
Always at the mercy of my own fear.
I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.

Facing things alone, few folks ‘round to help,
Nagging doubts always raging in my ears…
Time to store my self-pity on the shelf.

‘Tis the cruelest thing in my life I’ve felt.
Nowadays, though, I’ve grown sick of the jeers.
I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.

It’s about time I stood up for myself,
Took life by the horns, and conquered my fears.
Time to store my self-pity on the shelf.

After all, I alone can teach myself
To attain and keep that which I hold dear.
I’m quite done feeling sorry for myself.
Time to store my self-pity on myself.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: Revision Blues

Revision Blues
November 22, 2016

The harder I work, the more I fall back.
Frustration only begins to describe things.
Any more might give me a heart attack.

Trying to sort out my plan of attack
On this project on which I’ve been working.
The harder I work, the more I fall back.

Otherwise, to square one I shall be back
For yet one more day on this stupid thing.
Any more might give me a heart attack.

I thought I’d had it done quite some time back,
Only to find faults in the wretched thing.
The harder I work, the more I fall back.

Each time I’ve tried to fix it, though, how whack
It turns out again! Such a wasted fling!
Any more might give me a heart attack.

Maybe I should just take one more step back
‘Fore I really lose it o’er this dumb thing.
The harder I work, the more I fall back.
Any more might give me a heart attack.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: One Man’s Rant about the World’s Fixation with Feminine Nudity in the 2010s

One Man’s Rant about the World’s Fixation with Feminine Nudity in the 2010s
November 2, 2016

Nudity’s overrated. Get off it.
So you’ve got a body. You’re no alone.
Forget about your skin. Show me your wit.

You want to prove you’re beautiful and fit?
You need not strip down almost to your bones.
Nudity’s overrated. Get off it.

Aren’t women more than bodies made to fit
What outfits—birthdays suits as well—they own?
Forget about your skin. Show me your wit.

What about brains and kindness? Don’t they fit
Into what someone “should” be on this stone?
Nudity’s overrated. Get off it.

You say you’re “free.” I can’t buy that one bit—
Not in the eyes, leastways, of horny drones.
Forget about your skin. Show me your wit.

Such “beauty” means squat if you’re just a twit
Or soulless, vain, and noxious to the bone.
Nudity’s overrated. Get off it.
Forget about your skin. Show me your wit.

*****

 Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: No Excuse for Bigotry

No Excuse for Bigotry
November 2, 2016

There’s no excuse for bigotry these days.
Hate never gets anyone anywhere.
Grow up, then, and change your ignorant ways.

For far too long, fear’s seen the light of day,
Pitting us ‘gainst each other everywhere.
There’s no excuse for bigotry these days.

Race, sex, age, and more have all become ways
In which we’ve been divided here and there.
Grow up, then, and change your ignorant ways.

Where have such divisions led us these days?
At each other’s throats, strangling ‘way sans care.
There’s no excuse for bigotry these days.

Living in fear of each other in ways
I thought we’d overcome years back somewhere.
Grow up, then, and change your ignorant ways.

This world’s long been fragged in too many ways.
Can’t we work together to get somewhere?
There’s no excuse for bigotry these days.
Grow up, then, and change your ignorant ways.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Bonus Poem of the Week: A Villanelle on 21st Century Journalism

A Villanelle on 21st Century Journalism
September 29, 2016

Grow up and do your job, you pompous ass!
You’re supposed to be objective, you know.
Cut the crap for once and show us some class.

Just what do you get from being so crass,
Shooting off your mouth and acting macho?
Grow up and do your job, you pompous ass!

We came to read the news, not cope with sass
From some snide narcissist with steam to blow.
Cut the crap for once and show us some class.

Spare us your pretention and let it pass.
Condescension’s never in style, you know.
Grow up and do your job, you pompous ass!

Quit shoving your agenda up my ass
And knock off the personal attacks, schmoe.
Cut the crap for once and show us some class.

Professionalism’s run out of gas
When it comes to keeping folks in the know.
Grow up and do your job, you pompous ass!
Cut the crap for once and show us some class.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Of All Nights

Of All Nights
September 10, 2016

Of all nights for the aerial to die,
The night my show’s on has to be the night.
Thanks a lot, stupid storming summer sky!

Just came home from work, hung my coat to dry,
Sat down to watch some televised delight.
Of all nights for the aerial to die…

Wind, rain, and lightning streaked across the sky,
Clipping branches and power lines one night.
Thanks a lot, stupid storming summer sky!

That was already a while ago. Why
Should that in any way mess up my night?
Of all nights for the aerial to die…

Has the antenna unhinged? Is that why
I can’t watch any TV shows tonight?
Thanks a lot, stupid storming summer sky!

Tomorrow, I guess, to the roof I fly
To see if I can somehow set things right.
Of all nights for the aerial to die…
Thanks a lot, stupid stormy summer sky!

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: The Ceaseless Cycle

The Ceaseless Cycle
June 4, 2016

Time and time again, I’ve wracked my sore brain,
Trying to make something somehow, someway.
This ceaseless cycle’s driving me insane.

Working on something new, I feel such pain
Before I even get things underway.
Time and time again, I’ve wracked my sore brain.

I’ve nothing to lose and so much to gain,
Yet random thoughts keep getting gin my way.
This ceaseless cycle’s driving me insane.

Though I know what I want to get done plain,
I’m always made to wait ‘til the next day.
Time and time again, I’ve wracked my sore brain.

This pattern of headaches has yet to wane,
And I’ve long been sick of this game they play.
This ceaseless cycle’s driving me insane.

Should I push on and struggle through the pain,
Or should I again wait another day?
Time and time again, I’ve wracked my sore brain.
This ceaseless cycle’s driving me insane.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Rant that a Male Feminist Might Hear

Rant that a Male Feminist Might Hear
May 17, 2016

Get off your high horse, you damn hypocrite!
You blast one thing but condone the other.
Everybody knows you’re so full of it.

Safely behind your computer you sit,
Preaching morality like no other.
Get off your high horse, you damn hypocrite!

Treating your fellow men like they’re all twits
As if somehow you were their damn mother…
Everybody knows you’re so full of it.

You proclaim that it’s wrong for men to hit
Women, but vice-versa’s fine? Oh, brother!
Get off your high horse, you damn hypocrite!

Claiming that a woman you’d never hit?
I bet your wife you beat like no other.
Everybody knows you’re so full of it.

Your self-righteous words don’t fool us one bit.
We see through your double standard, brother.
Get off your high horse, you damn hypocrite!
Everybody knows you’re so full of it.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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Poem of the Week: Hope for the Holidays

Christmas 2015 Hope

Hope for the Holidays
December 1, 2015

The future can change in so many ways.
Just keep your chin up to see what it brings.
Never give up hope for the Holidays.

Long we’ve been used to seeing darker days.
Long have we felt anxiety’s stiff sting.
The future can change in so many ways.

Long have we forgotten positive ways,
‘Specially ‘round the time when angels sing.
Never give up hope for the Holidays.

Tune your ears to the bells of Santa’s sleigh
And just imagine all the hope he brings.
The future can change in so many ways.

I’m not talking, either, toys from past days
Or cranberries and popcorn strung on string.
Never give up hope for the Holidays.

I’m talking the promise of brighter days
For all who combat this decade’s sharp sting.
The future can change in so many ways.
Never give up hope for the Holidays.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com

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Image used in this post (c) 2015 EmbLibrary.com. The remainder of the content within this post however, is my own.

Poem of the Week: Not That New Hampshire Call Again!

Not That New Hampshire Call Again!
April 21, 2015

Good grief! Not that New Hampshire call again!
So often have they called without warning.
I haven’t known peace since I don’t know when.

Calling at the same time time and again:
Eleven o’clock in the damn morning.
Good grief! Not that New Hampshire call again!

Pecking at me like a nagging old hen
Over and over ‘til my blood starts warming.
I haven’t known peace since I don’t know when.

Always trying to survey me times ten,
Ringing my number up without warning.
Good grief! Not that New Hampshire call again!

Forever lost is my moment of Zen.
Their HQ I hope feds will be storming.
I haven’t known peace since I don’t know when.

Before these bastards dare to strike again,
To those not called yet, I give this warning.
Good grief! Not that New Hampshire call again!
I haven’t know peace since I don’t know when.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com

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