Bad Poetry

Slowly working my way towards being a professional. Personal tag is katherinesbadpoetry

[katherinesbadpoetry]

Legacy

Mary had a little plot of land on a mountain

For over a year she kept you on her window sill.

Johnny- sorry- John Dale now-

Despite not knowing you for most of his life-

Was the only man left of the four families

(Seeing as your namesake was disowned)

So he was in charge.

Neither of them managed to finish the paperwork

To turn you into a tree-

Your ashes i mean-

So.

A week before I left to move

Across the country

I drove 5 hours to a shit box Oklahoma ghost town

And then drove my compact car up the side

Of Mary’s stupid fucking mountain

To finally bury you

A year and a half after you died.

She had gotten “government grade growth hormone,”

And some grandchild

To dig up rocks on the plot of land across from hers.

They poured you into a compostable pot-

“Don’t breath in Dad”

And half drunk,

Mary’s stupid kid David, dug a hole

And then dug out a sprite from a few paces away,

And they made do.

Mary covered the roots in the powder

The hormone, not your ashes,

And they all stood around and said sweet,

gentle things

Meaningless

How good a man you were

How noble.

How brave.

And I stood there

Facing Kansas

Turned away from God

Looking at these stupid fucks crying over

A made up man

And felt a scream trapped in my throat-

To see them mourn for you

Like you didn’t just succeed

In abandoning all of us

Again

You left every family

You left every child

You never paid child support

You beat half your children

You baptized the rest

And we lived in fear that we would be discarded

Like the last family-

Or the one before that,

Or the one before that,

Or the one before that.

We were good

We got straight A’s

We never told mom

Or concerned family members

We kept your little secret

We begged for your attention

We brought you scotch

We did your chores

And loved your wives

We took your place as parent-caretaker-lover-husband

We took care of you

And after all of that

The children that managed to make it

To Bumfuck Mountain, Oklahoma

Fucking thanked you for it

You always said you wanted to leave a legacy.

I guess you did.

1:59am 4/8/2022

[lunchboxpoems]

BOB HICOK

[textid]

text ID: THE EULOGY I DIDN'T GIVE (XXIV)

My younger brother was afraid of thunder, lightning. My father bought a recording of storms, put it on the stereo, and rocked on the love seat with my brother over and over, until the sound meant comfort, warmth. Much later, my brother became obsessed with meteorology and dreamed of becoming a weatherman. When I finally connected the early fear with the later passion, we were looking down at my father in his coffin. Not my father but his body. More like an echo of his flesh. No weather on his face. I’d seen him often in a suit but never wearing a vest. Pajamas would have made more sense. The soft rain of the talking all around us was a cocoon I wanted to live inside. I heard the metronome of my heart and thought of Quakers waiting for silence to open its mouth. Of the hope just below the surface of the phrase, keeping time. - Bob Hicok

[jordanbolton]

“Range Life” by Jordan Bolton

Order my new book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky

[pajaro-y-mapache]

Amor es…

[tickfleato]

self-love/self-hate

[khachkars]

The Hunting Kind - Ada Limón

[caats]

it came true

[karlovycross]

My flesh, my home 🦪 🫧

[prinz-myshkin]

Bothersome beast, comforting friend

[gvalesdraws]

bird in cage

[afternoonpoetics]

[bbybluemochi]

Jennifer's body 🩸

[jugendstil]

Helene Beland - Un capteur de lumière, 2012

[loish]

Every now and then I have to sit down and paint a somewhat creepy and ethereal elemental spirit lady ~ I have no choice. It's just something I must do.

[writing-prompt-s]

You are the adventurer who went on an epic quest and defeated the evil king, all to gain the sacred amulet and use its one wish to revive your sister. Now everyone expects you to accept her death and use the wish to undo the damage instead. You refuse.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Blood has stopped streaming from the wound bisecting your brow, but it still stings your eyes something fierce. You take your gauntlets off, grimacing as the grime and soot from battle tries to keep the metal welded to your skin. There’d been an explosion during the final fight with the king – no, the tyrant. Explosions, maybe. Your magic’s been erratic lately, the sudden growth of your mana pool far outpacing your control. You wipe your eyes with the back of your cleaner hand.

There’s pressure in your chest you’ve never felt before. You want to laugh. No, you want to scream. Your body is too tired to jump around like you did when you were a little girl, but you find yourself bouncing in place regardless. The thrill of battle and of escaping the castle as it collapsed is thrumming through your veins. You did it. You did it.

You are so happy, so devastatingly happy, that you can feel yourself shutting down. You need—you need rest. Food. Sleep.

Then you can save her. Then you can bring her back.

“Roksala,” Prince Eloyn says. You squint past the last rays of day to see him frowning at you. The ruins of the tyrant’s castle don’t appear to interest him. His eyes narrow. “Are you ignoring me?”

Keep reading

[clementiens]

[joomju]

Reblog so she lives forever.

[kf1n3]

Wanted to paint this dog

[animentality]

[fox-moblin]

Wouldn’t leave my mind sorry