Bleak Poetry

War abroad

war at home.

Woe begone

we each alone

are ravished

and bereft.

I'm sorry to any of my readers that the poems I write are so bleak at times. I don't mean for that to be the main theme of my writing, but when I read the works of other poets (in class and actual published poets) I am inspired to write the same way they do. Hopefully this will improve as people write more cheerfully!

Shadowcat

I have too much time on my hands at work, so I write. Here is another poem that I have been mulling over for several days now...I have written a similar poem in another place, but this seems to me the better of the two. I hope you like it.

illness stalks me

that chronic foe

on muffled jaguar's feet

shadowcat!

when I least expect

it pounces!

trailing blood and tears

in its wake

Work Poem

reception

list’ning to the loud hum and buzz of florescent lights
the roar of moving air
the click-clack of typing keys
the tap-tap of feet passing my desk
the be-e-e-e-e-e-ep of the phone
that's my cue
Thank you for calling…how may I direct your call?
Service department, parts department, body shop
sales. Kevin, Lance, Marie, MAC. Selah.
Tony, Shelly, Sherri, Shannon…
buzzing humming can’t hear my own heartbeat
soft whooshes of traffic from State Street
I watch them pass by
automobiles
we sell automobiles
or they sell…
I just sit here
How may I direct your call?

Shakespearean Sonnet

I wrote this sonnet for my Intro to Creative Writing class...try to figure out who 'she' is...

Oblivious
By: Marinda Nill

She wants to live in a magic land of elves.
And dreams of pretty places loves she more
Than life! And gilded books upon her shelves--
Romantic knights do ladies fair adore.
She builds her castles in that sky so blue
And knights or mages come to seek her grace
Still yet she waits for the one her heart can woo
In dreams she knows his eyes, his lips, his face.
So lost in daydreams lives she now among
Us all…nor does she deign to live and share
Her loss to us is tragic—being so young!
If only she would open her heart and care!
While she ignores the world, she does not spy
The man, right here! Almost apple of her eye.

Poetry

Boredom

I sit here
hearing sounds
vowels and consonants
while fishing at clouds
of fluffy daydreams
eyes glazed over.

ROFL-TMI?

That cellphone
has created
urgency
my issue
is more dire
than your life
whatever
I call you
you ignore
I'm angry
you call back
or text me
I ignore
your timely
responding.

Heartache

I am broken
pulsing organs proving
vitality, life remain
even with the vacuum of emotion
the emptiness of thought
desires and passions are fled.
I become a living corpse.

I.

Descending to the depths
of my personal hell

I am
Descending to the depths
of my personal hell

Descending to the depths
of my personal hell

I'm alone
I am nothing

Flames feeding on the skin
the lining of my throat

There are
Flames feeding on the skin
the lining of my throat

Flames feeding on the skin
the lining of my throat

I can't breathe
suffocation

Torturing and twisted thoughts
saturate my mind

Those
Torturing and twisted thoughts
saturate my mind

Torturing and twisted thoughts
saturate my mind

I'm open
I am bleeding

II.

I want to give all
yet giving all
gives none

I want to please all
yet pleasing all
pleases no one

I want to love all
yet loving all
loves not one

I want to tell all.

Lame Joke #1

A pirate with a parrot on his shoulder walks into a bar. The bartender asks him "Hey, where did you get that?" The parrot answers, "Maracaibo...they've got them all over the place!"

Scene from an Imaginary Play

I wrote this with help from a classmate, Mark, in my English 3400 class. We had to base our efforts off of a short essay called "Fallout" by Dawn Marano. Please forgive the strong language in one of the lines.
Mr. Taylor and Mr. Vincente are standing in their respective yards, smoking cigarettes. Mr. Taylor walks up to the corner of his yard and peers over at the gaping hole in Tony Marano’s backyard. Mr. Vincente joins him, peering at the same hole. After a few puffs from his cigarette, Mr. Taylor tosses his cigarette butt and begins talking to Vincente.
Mr. Taylor: “Their daughter keeps saying they are building a pool.”
Mr. Vincente: “Who the hell do they think they are kidding? He’s been digging it for nearly a month…that ain’t no pool.”
Taylor: “Tony hasn’t invited me over for a beer in the last 3 weeks. I used to go over every Friday after work.”
Vincente: “I know. He’s been acting strangely at work. He showed up half an hour late as usual and when the boss yelled at him, he took it—just like that!”
Taylor: “He’s working like a maniac on that ‘pool’ every night.”
Vincente: “That’s just not right…something loony about that.”
Taylor: “I don’t know. Tony is a smart guy…doesn’t seem loony to me.”
Vincente: “I’m fine with his hole as long as he keeps digging downward. Now if he started digging sideways…”
Taylor: “What do you mean by sideways?”
Vincente: “You know, my telephone line is buried right there.” (He points to a spot about a foot from his fence.)
Taylor: “What are you getting at, Tom? You think Tony is a red??”
Vincente: “I don’t know, but you can’t trust anyone these days…just look at what’s happening in the government!”
Taylor: “But I have known Tony since grade school. He never seemed like a commie.”
Vincente: “Are you willing to put your wife and kids at risk? He probably has already started tapping telephone lines.”
Taylor: “I don’t know, Tom. I just can’t imagine Tony involved in all that.”
Vincente: “What proof do you need?? He stops inviting you over; he’s acting strangely at work; and now he’s digging a hole in his backyard big enough to store nuclear weapons or whatever!”
Taylor: “Well…what are we supposed to do?”
Vincente: “We gotta warn people.”
Taylor: “Okay.”
Vincente: “You call Fred, George, Henry and Hank, and I’ll talk to the fellas at work.”
Taylor: “Ok, Tom. I just hope we’re doing the right thing.”
Vincente: “Better safe than sorry, I always say.”