A poem: On Point

On Point

“I didn’t do it,” she said, as she pointed at someone else’s  parent’s parents.

“I didn’t do it, “he said, “and I have NEVER used that word.”

“We didn’t do it,” they loudly declared, as they counted out the coins to pay the lady who was busy raising their children.

 

“I didn’t do it,” she said as she gestured towards her black boyfriend who she had decided

to name ‘Justice’ because it was such a strong, regal sounding name, and rolled so easily

off the tongue.

 

“I didn’t do it,” he said as he spoke sadly of his inability to find work,

and how a system of structured “reverse racism” was now working viciously against him,

stopping him from B.E.E.ing able to find any employment at all.

 

“We didn’t do it”, they chorused as they hung another banner together,

calling for an “Off with his head” sentence for the president who couldn’t pronounce all

of  the numbers in the language of their choosing.

 

“I didn’t do it,” she said as she quickly looked away from the scene happening in front of her in the restaurant and crossed over to the other side of the street.

“I didn’t do it,” he said as he quickly logged off of his social media account because it was getting a little uncomfortable now that she had been caught saying that thing.

“We didn’t do it,” they whispered as they grabbed their last bag off the conveyor belt at the airport and set out to begin their new sparkly lives.

 

Then one day, without warning, they all suddenly ran out of fingers to point and as they stood in front of the mirror, they watched as a thin trickle of blood slowly dripped out of their left nostril and ran quickly down their face, settling in a tiny little growing puddle on the floor.

micropoem: robbed

robbed

gone

but not forgotten.

but gone.

too soon.

not that any other

time would have

felt any more right

but this one

definitely felt

every bit of wrong

i miss you, friend

not forgotten!

[For other of my shorter Micropoem types, click here]

Poem: the nature of it

the nature of it

stunning sunset

casting its fading light

across the valley

trees gently shaking

their arms

in the breeze

farmyard animals

searching for

the perfect harmony

from cacophony

as they raise

their gravelled voices

as one

flies buzzing

creepies crawling

tiny birds picking

at their nests

the beauty

of nature

[as long as

it keeps

its distance]

[For other poems i have written this year, click here]

A Poem: Turning the Tide

Turning the Tide

one white hand

calling to another

to tear itself away

from the clenched fist

it has become

accustomed to

to step away

and towards

the sea of black faces

looking on

exhibiting so much

welcoming

grace

forgiveness

patience

but at the edges

one can start to see

the restlessness

is beginning to show

[For other poetry i have written this year, click here]

all human – a poem by Michael Toy

all human

we are all fools

all believe something which

if we were suddenly pressed

we would deny quickly

or slowly slink away

we are all heretics

holding onto one secret thought

which would make us outcasts

we all wish for one thing

with all our hearts

which, if it came true

would leave us wishing

for something better

we all forgive

as little as possible

and only if we think

we’ll get something

in return

we are all lust

and too little love

we are all greedy before

we are willing to share

we are all human

which means both

something beautiful

and something we’d rather

not think about

[by Michael Toy, ‘Blame It On The Huehuetenango’]

[For more powerful poems by Mr Michael Toy, click here]

Poetry with Erik with a K: Father William by Lewis Carroll

Heidi Segal selects the poem ‘Father William’ by Lewis Carroll and invites Erik [with a K] to give it his best:

Did that deeply move you in places you didn’t even know you had places? What poem would you entrust Erik [with a K] with if you were given the opportunity?

[For more of the classics read by Erik [with a K] in his special way, click here]

Micropoem: closed

closed

your words

tell me

you are

listening

but your

manner

suggests

to me

you have

already

decided what

you are

going to

hear

[For more of my Micropoems, click here]