NaPoWriMo #30

Happy National Poetry Month as the month and another NaPoWriMo draws to a close.  Here is my final poem for NaPoWriMo 2014:

tick tick ticking
tick tick ticking
a headache on the verge of being
tick tick ticking
tick tick ticking
a crocodile out of the storybook
jaws snapping for human flesh
killing craving
tick tick ticking
tick tick ticking
a lost night’s sleep whisking
away in the wind
tick tick ticking
tick tick ticking
fumbling in the dark
for the lungs and the eye dirt
a clock rolling under the bed.

© 2014 by Robin A. Sams

NaPoWriMo #29

I eat poetry.
I devour words.

I do not
live and breathe it.

Fat with free verse and formals,
iambic pentameter keeping
time in my veins,
my mouth wet with confessionals,
I do not stop   will not stop

the taste of time on my tongue
it could make me immortal       perhaps

another book, another feast
it never sates.

© 2014 by Robin A. Sams

NaPoWriMo #28

Prod

That little voice that says
“you’ve drunk the Kool-Aid
drunk   drunk the Kool-Aid now”
insensitive as it is,
it is the grain of salt that keeps me
from falling into faith
completely
whatever faith it is
it keeps me right on thinking
long after you’ve locked the door.

© 2014 by Robin A. Sams

NaPoWriMo #27

Three days left of NaPoWriMo.  How the month has flown!  Here’s today’s poem:

The dog’s strangled cries pour out
across the parking lot
a lonely, protective sound
a near-howl echoing.
Scan the miles of cars,
machines shining and withering in the clouded light,
parked       sated for a moment.
Come back.    You only need me
only need me       love I have to give.
Come back!  You don’t need
plastic bags.
You cannot find the dog
find the heart
the consumptive cries.

© 2014 by Robin A. Sams

NaPoWriMo #26

Listening to Lyrics

The way you move ain’t fair, you know,
he sings
as if      as if
the human mechanics of Woman
her body
shouldn’t move
unless she wants it
she may want it
dancing like sex in a dress
to entice the man flustered
by desire   situational social ethics
she may not want it
dancing for the joy
of movement       the rapture of soul
connecting to music and moment.
Next time, ask her.
The way you assume ain’t fair,
you know.

© 2014 by Robin A. Sams

NaPoWriMo #25

Questioning

Questioning has almost
always been my problem.
I couldn’t just believe
had to wonder
about God        if God is Love, how can He hate?
about the food on my plate       whom am I eating?
about the earthworm, the crayfish, the frog in Biology
Please forgive
me, earthworm and crayfish.
Frog?  Frog?  why do we dissect you still?
haven’t we learned what you are like in all these years?
about my beliefs and my body
my everything
had to pick them apart
see where they tick, see where they shine
what needs to be done.
And always that is why
I will not follow you
into the dark.

© 2014 by Robin A. Sams

NaPoWriMo #24

Earthworms from Sidewalks

The rain is just settling in.
Already they are washed out
across sidewalks, at the edges of roads.
Rushing my way off
to bus and work,
I pause.
A big one slides near the edge.
I pick up
needing both hands
for the slippery, slimy worm
carry to the grass     to the dirt.
Then there are the puddles at the corner.
I scan them, scan them
hoping to stop the pulse of drown
and there, one I can barely pick
up    Curl up, little worm, curl up.
And the worm curls.
And I carry the worm
to the grass      to the soil.
Too many to save.
Am I saving them?
Am I hampering their hard-won journey
to the other side  Other Side?
Am I dipping a toe
to stop a flood?
Trying to save a life
in the morning.

© 2014 by Robin A. Sams

NaPoWriMo #22

empty as light
breath
unfolds like the pages
of a journal in anticipation
for a life to record
blossoming
what words could whisper
could they see       open
eyes to wonder
form a question       the question
a pocketful of answers

© 2014 by Robin A. Sams

NaPoWriMo #21

Chick

So this is life
outside the shell
sliding down
gloved hands check
searing pain     losing half my beak
because I’m a girl    a girl      maybe
Like Mommy, I’ll live
in a cramped cage dying
to lay egg after egg
until I am weak so weak
shipped off    body shocked
dead
was this life?

So this is life
outside the shell
sliding down
gloved hands check
thrown into the soft
yellow fluff of my brothers, my cousins
because I’m a boy     a boy      maybe
suffocating           not knowing
the bag I’m in in the dump
or thrown into the machine
ripped apart
with my brothers, my cousins
because there’s no profit in me
only blood
only blood.

© 2014 by Robin A. Sams