Tag Archives: free verse

Free Writing #4

Neurotics lick
Invisible wounds
At pity parties

God works in
Mysterious grays

I’m either
On the phone or
Away from my desk

How would you rate
Your experience
In general?

God sends angels
People send emoji
Thoughts and prayers

I’m on the phone
Under my desk
How would you
Like your refund?

Priests high-five
True believers on
Palm Sunday

I’m either
In pursuit or
On the run

How would you rate
My experience
In general?

Anxious poets
Fear the verse

Are these
Tide Pods
Gluten-free?

I’ll have to
Check with
My manager

Advertisements

1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

Flow

Flow

when I stop the world
inside my mind

when I fray the loop
& think without thinking
breathe without body
& sever the self from sensing

when I rejoice
as CHUCK
in utter non-chuck-ness

the unglued cosmos
splits down the middle
beside me

a deliberate rock
jutting the flow of
perpetual reality

c b snoad
draft 11-5-05
edit 1-22-17

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Just The Tip

Just the Tip

Fucking is easy
As free verse
She says
Try falling in love

Mouths aren’t lips
I’ve read

Just the tip
Of a tongue

She’s all diaphragm
Swallows nesting
In an iron lung

Other than words
I repeat
Nothing rhymes
With love

c b snoad
1-14-17

2 Comments

Filed under Poetry

Free Writing #2

all the women i love
have a hard-on
for the other guy

all the women i love
undress me
with their sighs

all the women i love
are secure
in my manhood

politically direct
anatomically erect
i long to be the

action figure of her
socially constructed
gender role

a pebble
in the flip-flop
of her undertow

all the women i love
bust the balls
of mama’s boys

all the women i love
prefer dumb
blondes

all the women i love
inherit the welts
of 12 step fathers

swipe left
swipe right
i long to be

the blind date
she stands up
humble servant

of a mistress
refusing to
untie the knot

if you liked it
then you should’ve
put a finger on it

if you liked it
then you should’ve
put a finger on it

if you feel the love
you still can’t
put a finger on it

c b snoad
8-24-16

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

A Difficult Piece

ABOVE A WHISPER

The grass around
my father’s grave.
To walk on blades
I can’t help but feel.

Does he see me struggle
over sunken markers
careful not to wake the dead?

I’d like to share the latest.
Everything I’m after.
News about a dream job
my own place to live
the love of a woman who finds
me worthy of affection.

There’s little to report.
I speak of world affairs.
Warmer winters.
Now he knows the score
of last year’s Super Bowl.

I get the sense
of talking to myself
above a whisper.

Over headstones
fixed in solemn rows
birds assuming
V-formation.

c b snoad
9-19-13

2 Comments

Filed under Poetry