Battles

Another Creative Writing class poem. This was supposed to be a poem about a ritual, and it was hard to find one with meaning.  It's definitely not my favorite thing I've written, but either way here it is...


Battles

Droopy eyes signal

shuffling up the stairs.

An invasion.

D-Day every night.

The master bath as Normandy.

We invade.

Take our turns rushing,

attacking.

Our teeth.

Hair.

Faces.

Scrubbed. Clean.

The battle over, we retreat

to bed.

Stories We Tell Ourselves

A poetry assignment from my Creative Writing class.


Stories We Tell Ourselves




We two, flying over the prairie

birds weightless by flight.

In between yesterday and tomorrow

we have endless, boundless hope.

I'm free, if only for the next 20 miles.



You grab hold of my hand.

Carelessly, without thought,

without pretense. Two become one.

The skyline looms.

Home waits.

It's dark maw waiting to

swallow me back into

the waiting loneliness.



We drive on forever.

never return; run far away.

It's easier than letting go.

I'm shaken from that dream

as we come to a stop at a traffic light.

We start back up.

The hum of Goodyears on pavement

echoes over the pleading bard

"Without you..."

He's never been so right.



My mind drifts.

You're silent.

I wonder if you are thinking

exactly what I am.

You stare across the vast wastes.

Contemplating the great mysteries,

thinking of all the answers

to questions that are never asked.

I feel insignificant, little, and vapid.

My thoughts are strictly centered

around you.



The car comes to a rest.

We say goodbye.

You let go of my hand.

We tell ourselves

lies to be able to part.

We won't be alone.

We will be strong.