Monthly Archives: July 2011

Teach Your Children

Once tangled up in an addicted existence
Kept my family hostage, but at a distance
Now they’re gone, done with coexistence
Not by mine, but with their insistence

I’m blessed by most with conversation
Texting mostly with a short duration
I’m not complaining now, it’s still a relation
It’s a new life for all, dealing with isolation

© 2011 Michael Yost

http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/2011/07/poetry-potluck-week-43-life-in-free.html

Twrees Okay?

I spilled the pot I hope the twrees  okay

We were s’posed to plant it today

Maybe we could leaves it this way

Mommy, Mommy do we gots a tray

© 2011 Michael Yost

http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.com/

Week 5 Image Prompt

Bowing Bough

The hands fail to give the mind its freedom
No it’s the mind that fails the hands
Of thoughts that are lucid and full of meaning
Offering the rational up for the weeping

Cut from the heavy bowing bough
Snapping upward rebounding
Touching the sky once again somehow
Hands or mind or hands endow

© 2011 Michael Yost

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/07/poetry-pantry-is-now-open-57.html?showComment=1310394511640#c3813616720526341534

All the Families

The sun sets heavy with my heart
Let the sins of the father depart
Open the child’s eyes for a fresh start
With a new vision for them impart

Everyone bears their own sin
Until you allow Jesus to come in
When the father doesn’t hold the banner high
What the child sees is a lie

Growing up is hard enough
Especially hard around the corrupt
Soften their hearts when witness’ come
Let my family and others serve as one

© 2011 Michael Yost

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2011/07/poetry-pantry-is-now-open-57.html?showComment=1310394511640#c3813616720526341534

Controlling Love

Capturing love’s spirit with control of the reigns
Helps keep you in line while not going insane
Even love needs restrictions, not going too far
Or you’ll find yourself writing, your love memoirs

© 2011 Michael Yost

Bright Horizon

Wandering the field of lost visions
Strangely not feeling remorse
I stand at the concourse wondering
Why each one them went off course

Should I pick one already passed?
The old choices seem endless and trite
I need to choose a brand new one
With a compass and a horizon that’s bright

© 2011 Michael Yost

Pity*

Pity is a selfish emotion.

Who does it help as it sways like the ocean?

We hang on to it like it’s going to help;

All it does is drag us to the bottom like getting caught in kelp.

 

© 2011 Michael Yost

*Changed from “Sympathy” to “Pity” based on caring feedback.

What If

Hold this thought forever in your heart,
Your actions could have stopped this.
Instead your silence roared in my ears.
Your own isolation spoke volumes.

Our unworthiness balanced for a time.
My mistake was the power I gave over for so long.
Now I take back what is mine.
My life.

© 2011 Michael Yost

Weeping Web

The urge to be melancholy hovers so near
If only the reasons for happiness were as clear
Walking by the edge of the spider web weeping
With the whisper of the spider close by creeping

Knowing I should be elsewhere out of harm’s way
But falling hard under the power of the spiders say
Crawling ever so closer and up and onto my arm
I barely felt the bite causing me no alarm

I fell into the web never happier than before
Where the spiders feed I’m not even sore
I thought the sadness would over take me more
Instead I’m warm, wrapped and feeling restored

© 2011 Michael Yost

Awkward Blues

Clumsy, fall on my ass awkward blues
Walking down the street tripping over my shoes
Clumsy fell on my ass, passed some gas
Rolling around with the awkward blues

Ran into a pole, fell in a hole awkward blues
Tripped up a curb bumped blind Herb
Stepped on his cup, kicked him in the nuts
Scoffed his new shoes, I call it the awkward blues

Singing the song slipped headlong
Into a bus stopped along
The street, knocked me off my feet
Stringing you along awkward blues

© 2011 Michael Yost

Holiday Weekend

The morning’s dew hung heavy at the river edge

The sun at least an hour away from rising to warm the bones

Coleman’s mantle lit the bank and warmed the hands

Dressed in layers we were able to warm ourselves while setting up camp

We brought kindling and the first small logs to ready the fire

While I walked along the bank collecting more for the fire

Being thirteen I was an old hand at getting ready

To put the first worm baited pole in the water

© 2011 Michael Yost

Good times on the Holiday weekends like the 4th of July are

Some of my fondest memories of summer.