Post-weekend Poetry 129: Living by Gboyero Felix

Welcome to Post-weekend Poetry and the one hundred and twenty-ninth poem in this series. This week’s piece is by Gboyero Felix.

Living

Uncertainty as it’s defined

Warlock in its dismay

Living seems odd all the day

Just as the beautiful lady experiences senescence

It’s started well at dawn

But flux on noon day

Waxed further to disdain night

All seems not worthy to live for

But living we shall live it

A question yet define is living….

Its authenticity gurps as a chameleon…

*

I asked Gboyero what prompted this piece and he said…

Post-weekend Poetry 128: A Frozen Heart That Could Be Mine by Samantha Wilcox

Welcome to Post-weekend Poetry and the one hundred and twenty-eighth poem in this series. This week’s piece is by Samantha Wilcox.

A Frozen Heart That Could Be Mine

A frozen heart that could be mine

I don’t look

So I don’t find

Sodden trampled leaves beneath me

Slick brown glistening branches beat me

Fast of tread as wind whips chest

Seeking out what isn’t there to take

Buried deep amongst the tissues, vessels,

Bloody secrets twisted, nestled

A shout behind me in the dark

My name, his voice a question mark

I tried. Time and again, I tried

Slow as moments lost at sea

Fast as lifetimes unseen pass

The flow of warmth was chilled to ice

As broken arteries perhaps. I tried

I could not love you

I cannot love. Too tired to try again

A frozen heart that could be mine?

But nothing answers me this time around

And so the ground

Awaits me.

*

I asked Samantha what prompted this piece and she said…

Post-weekend Poetry 127: Huózhe by Samantha Wilcox

Welcome to Post-weekend Poetry and the one hundred and twenty-seventh poem in this series. This week’s piece is by Samantha Wilcox.

Huózhe

An ever-changing tonal wail

competing with the Chinese violin

People move arms up

And circle the air

Sashay hips

Fixed stare

 

Daylight in the entrance to the park

Or later as fading light turns to dark

Colour lights by battery

red and blue

Cascades from cheapest plastic

Some, a few

Are sold

But eggs or chestnuts make the sales

Keep the streets alive with smells

 

Tofu, eggplant, pineapple

Dusty carts laden with foods

Stand on corners by the roads

Under the bridges

And next to the lights

Walking through another time

Breathing smoke and dust and grime

Staying close to locals to make it through the roads

The weaving cars, buses, bikes

Cross safely to the other side

*

I asked Samantha what prompted this piece and she said…