#335
He sat passionately pounding the keys
despite the pouring, pushing rain
a man, cast to the street,
by all he’s known, playing a piano
placed out by no one knows
practicing songs he was forced
to learn, in a warm home, where
this modern urchin had once known
warmth, long ago. His tempo quickened
under his mother’s old tuts, and the
busy sounds of frustrated traffic
fell as silent as his thoughts,
his mind a quieted canvas where
the notes found sound, oblivious
to the passer’s pauses, the quick rests
ran jagged and jarring,
jumping in his jazzed jive
until his final crash and his song stopped,
eyes unclouded, his arm stung,
he dusted the drizzles of rain from his beard,
and he left, faster than he’d arrived.
The sounds of the city sang on, a little changed.
#336
Tonight, my poetry sucks
well so do i,
so consider the source.
#337
We’ll walk together
and i’ll watch you move
watch you laugh,
those scary questions,
i doubt i’ll ask,
i’ll keep in refrain, scared to break
happy with the steps
continent with the stroll.
#338
That familiar burn
in a thankless tasteless
drink. Oh i’m proud,
oh, i’m sure i needed it.
That it would be just right, right?
Of course i’m in control,
i need nothing, desire all,
i suppose just one.
i suppose just one more.
#339
Leaning back in,
fighting against my own
careless ignorance, laziness,
pushing, sweating, try try trying
rallying against myself, inconvenience,
three days into four months, what an
unnecessary, difficult test. Match up,
square off, swing swing swing.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write