His money deposited, his soul saved…

“Go back in the house.”
That’s all he said, without a backward glance.
A modern-day Faust
I watched him through the blinds.

You know how they talk among themselves.
Just loud enough to pique your interest,
Low enough that all the meaning quells
And leaves you straining at the keyhole.

We stood miserably by the wall.
Knowing only that we didn’t like this,
Wishing that we weren’t so small
And boxing with our shadows.

Title and first lines taken from Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird p. 131, 145, 157, 164

For: http://wedrinkbecausewerepoets.com/2014/04/21/poetry-prompt-7-word-building/

On Entering a Quiet House on a Beautiful Day

“Is anyone home?”
“Just me.  Want to do something?”
“Let’s go for a hike.”

A Simple Rhyme for Eastertime

Where there was frost there now is Spring
..Life, life in abundance,
Where snow-hushed silence, birds now sing
..Life, life in abundance,
Where there was drought a cool, cold spring
Lifting pain and suffering,
Deep waters everlasting:
..Life, life in abundance!

Sable Blush

Broad black-blue shadows settle below her lashes
Shaping sunken semi-circles,
Cirque du Soleil or Barnum & Bailey beneath her eyes
Blinking back shifting vision, sharp clashing symbols
Flashing fast past her fading sense abilities;
She tumbles in pastures with rambling sheep
And slips into shambles and patches of sleep.

In the Midst

Another gunshot and another body falls
Like sundried grain before the hungry harvester,
A bloody offering to nothing and no one.
No witnesses come forward, though they saw the shot;
All scared that speaking out could bring about their graves
Before they’ve packed their bags and said all their goodbyes.

The wise kneel down and pray, eyes lifted to the skies–
There’s One no gang can kill, though gangs already tried:
The grave was but a bed to rest in for three days,
Black sin was but a thorn and death was but a phrase.
He came that we might live and live life to the fullest;
He sacrificed Himself to make us bulletproof.
Why would we flee the light and trade cruel lies for truth?
The way He gives is simple but the hardest one to choose:
“Give up your independence; turn and follow Me
And let Me be the only ruler in your heart.”

Another gunshot and another body falls—
Still sweet and hopeful are the Savior’s loving calls.

the a or Misunder-go A first is be

important far significant conclusions.
they someone Don’t on standings what’s outside,
could other than a calming versa.
can simple seem book could While underneath,
you pussycat be just by jumping conversation.
its act erased a winning.
Communication Getting on more vice Find
a your before with out lion needs.
is inside to judge by understanding the honest cover.
as influence a might the answers key.

 

If you’re wondering, “WHAT THE JACK SPARROW DID I JUST READ?”–don’t worry, you’re perfectly sane.  There’s no hidden meaning here, no code to crack (unless you want to try to rearrange the “poem” to what it originally said).  You see, I followed Tristan Tzara’s method in which he lays out easy steps to write a poem:
1) Find a newspaper
2) Cut out an article in the newspaper the length of the poem you want to write
3) Cut out all the words in the article and put them in a bag
4) Draw out the words one by one and write them down in the order they appear
5) Now you have a poem that describes yourself

Ok, so I skipped that last step.  But I did follow the rest.  I initially cut up one horoscope, but then I added a second one–this time adding the words not QUITE as randomly but using them to make the lines as metrically similar as I could.

So, if you like puzzles, here is what the second horoscope I added originally said:

Communication is the key.  Misunder-standings can be erased with a simple conversation.  Getting honest answers is far more important than winning.  A significant other could act as a calming influence by understanding your needs.

Can you figure out what the other one said?

11:27

A breeze like water floats in the midnight air
As somethingness envelops: a tender care.
Breathe deep–the oxygen is thinning;
Peace like a cloud on the moon descending.

We’ve walked for miles and talked for a million more,
Yet still our legs press on and extend the tour–
Rock-solid walls but hesitations,
Silence a fuel for more conversation.

American Aisling

She stands with hands perfumed and moisturized,
A sun hat caps her plucked and arching brows
Above black glasses dark to dim the world.
Her nose is not her own, but it looks nice;
Her lips are vague and mirror Mona Lisa’s
Hint of a smile or longing for something.
Her arms are folded snug against her breasts;
She wears a pink crop top and white short shorts,
Her navel stares out taking in the view,
Her long legs towers built upon the sand.
She’s seen me but she doesn’t bend or falter;
She’s just a pretty statue on an altar.

I Thought This Would Never Happen Again

Driving along on this miserable evening
The road meets the sky in a blanket of rain,
Pass mile marker 105 and get in the left lane.
The paint on one-oh-five-and-two-tenths is fading
And a towering pine shakes the sky near the bend.
Wake up to the impact of metal on metal;
Wake up to an airbag and mangled car frame:
The sign and the pine both sharp figmentation,
A wild dervish dance of happenstance imagination.
Wake up to a flood of deep muddying shame.

Your Choice

Simple question, complex too
Take  some   time   to  answer
As you twirl  your golden ring
You’ll    know     what    to   do

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Because Russ L asked

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