Tales From The Cabin That Smokes: Book Eight...RitaÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s Sorrowful City-Slicked Sunday..

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Open Poetry #50

Tales From The Cabin That Smokes: Book Eight...RitaÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s Sorrowful City-Slicked Sunday..

Bluesy Socrateaser
Member Elite

since 2002-11-07

Posts 2417
In The Mirror

0 posted 2017-11-24 02:01 AM

One sleeps in her bed whilst the other two fill the floor
She looks around at the mess she's found, declares she'll sleep no more

"The city eats its children", is scrawled upon the wall
above the overflowing ashtray by the phone that no one calls

Her life was packed in boxes that she sealed with silken bows
Now she stares at pretty pictures and just hopes the feeling goes

...just bein' Bluesy

Lori Grosser Rhoden
Member Patricius

since 2009-10-10

Posts 10202
Fair to middlin' of nowhere

1 posted 2017-11-24 05:35 AM

This one has me searching for words Bluesy.
I really like this for so many reasons and so many lines. It is layered like tiramisu
with meaning and emotion. I am really enjoying your Smoking Cabin series. ~L

JerryPat2
Member Laureate

since 2011-02-06

Posts 16975
South Louisiana

2 posted 2017-11-24 08:27 AM

Such a cool poem about the disappointments of life in general. You do have a way of covering all the bases in your writes, Bluesy.

~ If they give you ruled paper, write sideways. ~

Bluesy Socrateaser
Member Elite

since 2002-11-07

Posts 2417
In The Mirror

3 posted 2017-11-24 11:06 AM

Thank you so much for your 'flavorsome' reply, Miss Lori. Methinks you never have to look too far to find words.

...just bein' Bluesy

Bluesy Socrateaser
Member Elite

since 2002-11-07

Posts 2417
In The Mirror

4 posted 2017-11-24 11:08 AM

Thanks for reading and understanding, Jerry. Your visit is much appreciated.

...just bein' Bluesy

bbynams
Junior Member
Posts 49

5 posted 2019-03-31 08:31 PM

I enjoyed reading this because of the ominous overtone.

I have a poem which doesn't exist anymore (anywhere that I know of) and I hope you don't consider it inappropriate, but I'd like to know what you think. It's called "Pink It Up And Say Yellow" (like the joke):

She patches our scratches with wax that she catches
from a pool that forms under the moon

The kettle that hisses drips princesses' wishes
perfumed with the smoke of a blaze
while the live-wire cat curls up for a nap
with a rat that's asleep in its maze

Her silhouette's bright as dirt thaws from the night while the frost is absorbed
Toes curl in the ice, but the pies don't need eyes
and her cookbook's as old as the door

Sunshine

Administrator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-06-25

Posts 63354
Listening to every heart

6 posted 2019-04-05 07:49 AM

Thanks, Bluesy. This let some melancholy between the lines.

bbynams
Junior Member
Posts 49

7 posted 2019-04-06 08:38 PM

Hmmm. You must not have heard the joke. Now I can't even remember how it goes.

bbynams
Junior Member
Posts 49

8 posted 2019-12-08 08:35 AM

I've retitled this "Hamster Butts" (don't ask) to reflect the complete lack of desperation.

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