thanksgiving

This is the middle stanza of “thanksgiving”, a piece I’ve been tweaking since 2017; I’m still not satisfied:

 

roasted capon memory

pumpkin pie

apple

at parade rest on the kitchen counter

we gather

transient

friends

laughter

football

tug to where home waits

kaleidoscope cloaked

magic banks a fire

I touch thanksgiving

 

© 26 November 2020

Cindy B. Stevens

 

#thanksgiving #Art #ArtlixirPoetry #DarkPoetry #IGPoetry #IGPoets #InstaPoetry #Life #LovePoetry #MicroPoetry #Poem #Poet #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #PoetryGram #PoetryIsLife #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryLovers #PoetryOfig #PoetryOfInstagram #PoetryPorn #PoetSociety #PoetsOfInstagram #SpilledInk#VeinHeartArtisans #Wordsmith #Writer #WritersOfInstagram #Writing

 

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let me be

I usually post e-a-r-l-y morning (every six days), but these past couple weeks have me procrastinating on choosing pieces to share.

 

Although this poem, “let me be”, has nothing to do with current family trauma, the four lines seem apropos to me:

 

scrub me clean

rain cleans leaves

 

I’m raggedy

just let me be

 

© 21 November 2020

Cindy B. Stevens

#Art #ArtlixirPoetry #DarkPoetry #IGPoetry #IGPoets #InstaPoetry #Life #LovePoetry #MicroPoetry #Poem #Poet #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #PoetryGram #PoetryIsLife #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryLovers #PoetryOfig #PoetryOfInstagram #PoetryPorn #PoetSociety #PoetsOfInstagram #SpilledInk #VeinHeartArtisans #Wordsmith #Writer #WritersOfInstagram #Writing

 

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when pages tear

The title poem of my full-length manuscript

waiting for a publisher to want

is

“when pages tear”

a few lines:

I beat the crap out of her again today

not all at once

more like a

little bit here

a little there

until she’s a sticky

mess

she watches herself step off the curb

captured by a rusted truck

 

© 18 June 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

 

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I shot my best friend

 

This poem might be hard to read in its entirety.  I chose certain pieces of it to share the gist of the plot.  Here are portions of “I shot my best friend”:

 

I exist in a nightmare

I’ve heard dreams are based on real events

memories

must be true about nightmares, too, because

that 1967 Sunday morning streams through my head

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

1967 Sunday morning:

we’ve been in this deer stand since 4 a.m.

cold

hungry

bored

no deer, no luck

at nine-thirty, we climb down

walk to my truck

rifle barrels pointed down

 

I hear a snort a few yards ahead

left of the trail

I stop

shoulder my rifle

pivot the safety

my trip is a sneeze during a funeral prayer

 

a gunmetal sky watches

it’s horrified

I’m horrified

my hands, warm

slippery

 

sheriff declares an accident

I can’t name it

I won’t

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

© 18 August 2020

Cindy B. Stevens

 

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pink ladies

 

I started something in my head yesterday morning while driving.  It’s not finished; I mull things over before considering them “finished”.  Anyway, here’s a bit of “pink ladies”:

it’s yesterday and I’m awake with

the bright Morning Star, truckers, and trains

no traffic on 86

10

70

85

147

until Fulton ends where pink ladies crowd

a circle

their pink skirts greet cold

 

© 3 November 2020

Cindy B. Stevens

 

#Art #ArtlixirPoetry #DarkPoetry #IGPoetry #IGPoets #InstaPoetry #Life #LovePoetry #MicroPoetry #Poem #Poet #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #PoetryGram #PoetryIsLife #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryLovers #PoetryOfig #PoetryOfInstagram #PoetryPorn #PoetSociety #PoetsOfInstagram #SpilledInk #VeinHeartArtisans #Wordsmith #Writer #WritersOfInstagram #Writing

 

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a playlist

My husband and I walking a difficult road.  The following is the first, fifth, and last stanzas of a new nine-stanza pantoum I started yesterday morning on my way to work and “finished” tonight while we watched Borgen on Netflix.  Counting, paying attention to the plot, definitely a challenge.

 

a playlist

 

I need to write about this

I sing my playlist to Raleigh

he loves Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon”

loves when I sing it

 

I make it to the second chorus

start over

make it through the song

sing it again

 

make it through the first verse

I can’t sing the chorus

I skip to the next song

I need to write about this

 

© 27 October 2020

Cindy B. Stevens

 

#Art #ArtlixirPoetry #DarkPoetry #IGPoetry #IGPoets #InstaPoetry #Life #LovePoetry #MicroPoetry #Poem #Poet #Poetry #PoetryCommunity #PoetryGram #PoetryIsLife #PoetryIsNotDead #PoetryLovers #PoetryOfig #PoetryOfInstagram #PoetryPorn #PoetSociety #PoetsOfInstagram #SpilledInk #VeinHeartArtisans #Wordsmith #Writer #WritersOfInstagram #Writing

 

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return

I thought I had finished this poem in October 2019.  I frequently edit poems located in my computer’s “READY” folder and when I pulled this one up to prepare a post, I saw new things.  

Here are eight lines from the four stanza poem, “return”:

I hear God weep with Jeremiah

Jesus for Lazarus

I want to return

I’m not content

fingers itch

beckon fire from heaven

modesty mantles my morning star

incinerates God’s ire

 

© 12 September 2020

Cindy B. Stevens

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