Where are the broken hearts?
That was left far behind
Circumstances hid them
Making them hard to find
There were two broken hearts
A hurt but loving pair
One too much and one too little
The pairing just wasn’t fair
Both of them felt broken
Neither one of them could bear
So they hid from each other
And their circumstances back there
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/14
The well is deep but the water’s sweet
And the bucket includes a ladle
In case you just want a sip
Or have some for the table
The water’s ice cold so unless your bold
I’d heat some for that bath
And whoever puts some down your back
Had better watch out for your wrath
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/12
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2012/02/think-tank-thursday-84-home.html?
Poets United
A Community For Poets Who Blog.
Knots in my shoulders and not’s in my brain
Trying to convey what I know is a strain
Foggy feelings talking over, one another
And more do speak up I soon discover
Ranting and raging are nothing but sounds
And what comes over us keeps us bound
Closing our eyes blind to how futile it is
Is like fanning all our thoughts into burnt ashes
The philosopher comes down from the highest hill
We hope to gain his knowledge to fill our will
The simple words that are spoken do surprise
Saying we have all that we need to be Healthy and wise
It’s an inward journey that needs to be taken
You need no high mountain to be awakened
The only lofty ideas that need be sought
Are the ones put together that you’ve already been taught
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/12
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Blind Eye, Discover, Futile, Healthy and Wise, Inward Journey, Ranting and Raging, Taught
The first thought is the wind pushing past my fears
Next are the mast and sails collecting my tears
The rudder and wheel are needed now to steer
Sextant, chart and compass, when the nights are clear
Where we go from there depends on the treasure
Estimating time to sail and how much time for leisure
How much gold we split for us and the crew’s measure
And needing a backup plan for the crew’s displeasure
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/11
The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! – # 87
Secrets aren’t very
The world could overwhelm me
Everyone just one
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/10
Cross eyed girl on the corner waiting for the bus
Watching me or looking at her schedule
Wearing sunglasses would be better for everyone
The bus arrives and she leaves
Pete the pimp drives up checking his corner out
Yelling at his girls, eyeballing me
Wearing sunglasses would be better for everyone
Pete looks at his watch says goodbye and leaves
Dean the dealer walks up to the bus stop bench
Tempting my old habits with saucer plated eyes
Wearing sunglasses would be better for everyone
Finally getting up and walking towards the girls
Street preacher spreading the good news
Catches up to my ears and conscience
Wearing sunglasses would be better for everyone
Taking my tracts my bus rolls up
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/9
Two different ears and large shoulders waiting
An imp and angel came in, always overstating
The words they used were always dam conflicting
But just having one around, I found too constricting
As it turns each one of them, had their own agenda
And living large in their own, large hacienda
The weight on my back, has kept me looking down
I didn’t know half the time if what I did was sound
It’s time I evicted them, out of my life
I no longer can handle all this dam strife
With them off my back I’ll have back my vision
To walk upright and make my own decisions
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/8
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Conflicting, Constricting, Decisions, Imps And Angels, Shoulder Boulders
Gummy bears are a dentist’s favorite treat
Tearing out fillings and filling the holes
And you thought it was just candy and sweets
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/7
Vice/Versa – Midnight Snack Weekly Prompt #6
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
Like the song, I ask where all the flowers have gone.
Where are the people that were part of my life growing up as a babe and young boy?
I know the answer; they have slipped away into a memory
I have the memories, deep memories, I should be happy.
Next the teenage years and a lot of the same people are there; but there’s new ones too.
They were priming me for the new adult life and the first loves of a teen. It was happy anxiety.
Those people and the girls have all slipped away into memories.
I have the memories, deep memories, I should be happy.
As a young man the 7 seas were going to be my home and I married a young lady to keep my house.
We had one child and finally four growing up and out of the home. They all have a spouse of their own.
Those children raised me! The wife and I drew apart and the family all slipped away into memories.
I have the memories, deep memories, I should be happy.
Aging as people do, I found a few friends; the kids were all far away and I turned to writing as an outlet.
Nothing was ever published, but that didn’t matter; the writing was for my benefit, no one else’s.
One day the Doctor told me I would soon lose my memories and after a while I would finally die.
So now I write even more of my memories, so I can remember them; so I should be happy.
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/7
We’re going deep this week over at Trifecta, where we’ve been tasked with using the third definition of ‘deep’ from the Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary in a story of between 33 and 333 words.
The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! – # 87
I’m not what I was.
Every “am not” is a creation.
I’m in the state of joy.
How often do we say these kinds of things?
How often do we act upon them?
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/6
What we’re becoming
The blinds waving in the AC
Sun scattering across the room
Smoke curls disrupting
Lumbar shifting
Carpal tunneling
Hose bulging
Glasses sliding
Flat rooting beer
Two thousand left
Driven by the clicking
Pausing only to pee
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/4
The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! – # 86
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
Seeing the brake lights
Hitching a ride
Running from it all
Leaving your footprints
In the sand
Song fading down the road
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/4
Drifting down the gutters
Debris falling off some truck
Connecting two connections
This life I lead just sucks
Pissing through a swizzle stick
If you can piss at all
Mouth is full of cotton
Writing on the shit house walls
Don’t cry for me Argentina
Wait that’s a different gig
He’s not looking at you, be cool
Zwere not up here collecting pigs
Slack jaw got the chiva
Put the ordnance away
We all got different actions
We all know this is pay
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/4
Gooseberry Garden
Jingle Poetry At The Gooseberry Garden, A Place for Poets To Share and Get Inspired!
Read more: http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/
Don’t know enough about it
Never took the time to learn
I just know that she liked it
And that’s all that I’m concerned
Please don’t stand there and ask me
You’ll only get burnt and sad
It’s just the way it has to be
So please don’t make me mad
It’s hard to make the payments
But keeps a smile on her face
That’s all I do care about
And it keeps me in good grace
Go on and ask another fool
Why they just do what they do
You might get the answer
If they don’t care that their screwed
Don’t know enough about it
Never took the time to learn
I just know that she liked it
And that’s all that I’m concerned
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/3
The Poetry Pantry Is Now Open! – # 86
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
One side dances electric
The other side a burnt bulb
Life of the big party plays
Or cleaning dirty ashtrays sobs
Spending all his money at the mall
Or keeping the rent current
One side feels like having a ball
The other side not so much
Yes they can come together
With some magic crutch
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/2
For Bluebell Books
http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.com/2012/02/short-story-slam-week-20-love-in.html
And
The Thursday Think Tank # 83 – YES
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
A bipolar individual off his medication.
It’s hard to know, how our love died
I look and try, to see your side
Accepting fault, for losing you
Is something that, is hard to do
Why are you still, packing your clothes
Wait here’s the ring, I give, propose
I see your tears, please see mine too
Just hear me out, don’t say we’re through
As you walk out, guilt rushes in
Down the porch stairs, regret begins
Fingers press at, your car window
Falling face down, as I follow
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/1
Gooseberry Garden
Jingle Poetry At The Gooseberry Garden, A Place for Poets To Share and Get Inspired!
Read more: http://gooseberrygoespoetic.blogspot.com/
Smokers are killing
I was a smoking killer
Smokers killing me
© 2012 Michael Yost 2/1
Michael's Lair 