poetry

common cold

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“for these past 5 years
i’ve been
studying harder
working longer
eating better
crying the most honest tears

and i haven’t been ill
not even the common cold
in all that time”
i was just telling my friend
a few months ago

then the day before yesterday
there was the hint
of a tired ache in my body
i could not ignore
and last night
i could barely sleep
due to the drippy nose
and mouth breathing

by morning i had
a fuzzy headed drowsiness
and my the skin was irritated
from the constant tissue wiping

my streak of invincibility
had been ruined
by someone’s inconsiderate cough
into the open air

or maybe i push too hard
thinking i can do it all
and maybe i can do it all
just not all at once
and not by myself
i’m human
i’m not perfect

i have to admit
by midday
i was relieved
to have a reason
to lie down
and take a nap

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

©A. D. Joyce, 2017

soundscape

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a trumpet of a day —
the blue sky humming
the green crackle of grass
the chime of a small white butterfly
dancing to the drumbeat
of yellow sunflowers —
and after the red song of sunset
blazes over the horizon
i listen to the sighs
of the deep black night

 

 

 

 

 

©A. D. Joyce, 2017

NaPoWriMo Lessons Learned

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The first time I tried and completed the poem-a-day challenge for the month of April was in 2011. I compiled the poems I wrote that month in an e-book called “30 Poems, 30 Days: Inside a Poet’s Mind.” Along with the poems, I explain some of the reasoning and even the mechanics behind creating the poems. It’s a fun, interesting read available at Amazon.
What I learned then, and during the next 3 consecutive Aprils, is that the poem-a-day challenge is both easier than you think and harder than you think. Pacing is everything and though we poets are sticklers to details, there is no need for perfection in order to complete the challenge (if you want to stay sane, that is). For me, i learned to do away with my censor and just write. I can always revise my work in May!
©A. D. Joyce, 2017

concurrent events

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the story is centuries old
the land-raped
government-corrupted
children of africa
are laid waste to starvation
kidnapped
exploited
strewn lifeless across dirt roads
bulleted and bled out
their innocence is not lost
simply subjected to indifference

the recently poisoned
breathless
convulsing
children of syria
for whom we would
sacrifice our own
in military aid
are equally as precious

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

©A. D. Joyce, 2017