Another Starry Night...

Staring out of the window
resembling Van Gogh,
prisoned in this asylum
the voices-they come and go-
this starry night not hopeless
shall become her magnus opus


This is a photo by Sean McCormick, highlighted in One Shoot Photography Sunday as a photo prompt.  This link will take you there and introduce you to Sean.  You can also read some other creative works and try your pen at one of your own.  I also wrote mine in 160 characters for Monkey Man's Sunday 160.  what can you say in 160 characters including spaces?

Reality & The Ugly Truth...

He parks his sleeping bag on the dirty corner walks
His soul having been ravaged by life's stalks
torture running through his mind; to himself he talks
But no one looks his way
afraid of what they'll hear him say
afraid of the reality
afraid of what their eyes might see...

she wanders the darkened streets
painted, in her high heels, short skirt on
always searching the streets for her next John
But no one looks her way
afraid of what she might say
afraid of the reality
afraid of what their eyes might see...

He was absent from school again today
When he's there, there's not much he'll say
wearing long sleeves, keeping the bruises hidden away
But they look the other way
afraid of what he might say
afraid of the reality
afraid of what their eyes could see...

Maybe a smile, for a moment noticed
just a helpful hand, nothing promised
Could turn them towards the lives wished
but not many will look their way
afraid of what they might say
afraid of what could be their reality
afraid of the truth their eye's might see...

**This was a post for Friday Poetically which you can find over at One Stop Poetry.  It's a black history month celebration, and Brian has provided us a beat to put words to.  It sounded like so much fun, I couldn't pass it up. 

Diet (55)

Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig
for that brownie, I will beg
Nutrisystem, Adkins diet
I don't even wanna try it.
How 'bout just a balanced meal
the triangle still has appeal
a cardboard box microwaved
with no taste, but calories saved.
(all this depraved)
just some old fashioned exercise
will keep you in the proper size.



This is a Friday Flash 55 hosted by the entertaining G-man. 

That Old House of Brick

It was an old tired house of brick
The one I grew up in
With fourteen of us living there
Oh, where should I begin?

Mom made a lot of powdered milk
Just one bathroom to share
Spaghetti was our usual meal
and never food to spare.

A moment of peace unheard of
While living with that crew
But loneliness was not a toll
And love I always knew.

Grandpa was our babysitter
Back in those childhood days
He paid us our allowance too,
Gram taught us to say grace.

The oddest thing ‘bout Gram and Gramps
Is that they were divorced.
Yet living in the same household,
Conformity unforced.

My parents taught us to behave,
and respect all others.
My aunts and uncles lived with us,
Three sisters, three brothers.

With fourteen of us living there,
Not hard to imagine
It was an old tired house of brick
The one I grew up in.


**this is a Magpie Tale, hosted by Willow.  Follow the link here to read some fabulous stuff or to write your own.  I'm also linking up to One Shot Wednesday, a great place for poets to meet, share ideas and poems, and learn...Happy Wednesday =)