Poetry Blog by Mae Foreman

The Queen of Mundane!

I don't like the ways of my arid tongue

I don't like the stiff ways of my pen

I've been trying to sing what's already been sung

And I'm starting to lose my zen.

 

It feels like my head is made of bricks

Mould is working its way inside,

I'm in permanent stupor and all fresh out of tricks,

mouth agape and eyes open wide!

 

I hold my reading books upside-down

I write ...

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Mother Goose Puts Her Foot Down

Leave little songbird, go-

-off of my ledge!

or I'll shut the window,

or I'll burn down your perch.

 

Your cloying chirping keeps

my doted children from slumber

she fusses and weeps

he is always encumbered.

 

You have lost the flair to lull 

only cause ennui and grief

your songs have grown dull

they no longer bring relief.

 

The tales that you tweet

...

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Skinny Dipping, Haiku

Stripped of

chances; yet

swimming with choices!

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Saturday Haiku

The splendid Eve

of some imposed Lord's day

is mine.

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My Most Constant F(r)iend

My Most Constant F(r)iend

 

You've always been the predecided grand finale!

Mortals and angels, imps and harpies dance around your light.

And you, the bonfire! Casting shadows all across your valley

Sit back and watch us dance and chant in reverance and fright.

 

As for Yours Truly, you're the reason why my life has meaning.

You are the force compelling me to toil, strain a...

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The Sunday Blues

No matter how busy your fingers,

no matter how bright your works

n' if the glorious "now" feels like it lingers

don't be fooled! The grim "tomorrow" still lurks.

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To beloved H.G. (had to be written down)

 

I wish you were here to witness how you’d turn out had you not been burnt by the fire in you.

I wish you had stuck here long enough to give the long road a chance, see there’s an exit at the end of it.

I wish I could steer you away from that misleading short-cut at the end of which lies that brick wall with the shabbily spray painted “Dead End” on it.

I wish you were here to see me f...

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Always On The Losing Side

Always On The Losing Side

 

You’ve lost to emperors and knights,

been cheated by beggars and thieves.

Shame and agony fill your nights

The scar of defeat never leaves…

You always were that one lame horse

That even you wouldn’t bet on.

Charm isn’t an overcoat you can force

on an ugly duckling-of-a-swan.

Some days you lose to the witty,

and other times you lose

to...

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Consume or be Consumed

Consume or be Consumed

 

 

And right when you think you’ve had enough…

Take a big breath! There’s still room!

Swallow the Insults; Feast on them!

You might as well enjoy them too!

The more of them you eat

the less of them stare back at you from your plate.

You can't have Respect though.

No!

You can only lick the icing a little bit...

With class and finesse take ...

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A Rhyming Idea

               A Rhyming Idea

 

Boys so curious fumble-fumble

gay little girls spin round and round

Thus until the sky shall crumble

n' the burden of us cracks the ground.

 

Should the world meet its undoing

One last light will shine so sheer!

–What's the idea?-

Wealth or power or spineless wooing? (nay!)

La poesia, la poesia!

 

Words in prose and words in mu...

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Still Here

Still Here

 

Raise your glasses cunning foes!

Behold your triumph and cheer!

The folk are down, who will not flee

will bend the knee in fear.

My neck is broken, wounds are sore

You’ve almost won the war!

So drink a toast and raise your glasses,

brag and mock and sneer!

At dawn when the golden hour passes,

I will still be here.

 

(written on October the 15th, ...

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Things that sound alike

Things that sound alike

 

Volume 1: “Screaming”

 

All the firsts and all the lasts sound the same.

The frst cry of a new born infant gulping that dreadful thing she'll later fight for

and the sudden "ouch" from the first time she prickled her finger with a rose’s thorn

and the battlecries of soldiers,

and the rattle of death,

and the demented folk, out in the streets and...

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Y

"Y"

-Father, father,  why do we bother? 

-For the sake of taking it all a bit farther.

 

-Mother, mother, why do we bother?

Why do we dare and why do we care?

-For otherwise we wouldn’t bear.

 

-Lover, lover, why do we bother?

Why suffer from the keen sting, why keep each other slave?

-So that flowers grow on our grave.

 

-Brother, brother, why do we bother?

...

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I can tolerate Death

I can tolerate Death

 

I can tolerate Death and His puppeteering strings.

Always breathing down my neck, always plotting, always scheming,

clinging from my ankle, plucking feathers off my wings.

And even in my visions, even in my dreaming

of Love, of You, of healing Art,

I find myself, not blissful, but a little short of breath.

And it’s not Hope or Caution nor my beating h...

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