Bumblebees
tumbling about
drunk on nectar
dropping from blossom to bud
crashing into bees and walls
zigzagging
into people
spring to summer
one great party
from dawn to dusk
Remember
© 2017, 2020 threegoodwords

…actually, why not?
it starts in the heart
and sweeps out in a wave,
up the larynx
into a mouth, wide open

a cry so loud
all who have eyes shed tears
and all who can see
weep
with anger
and anguish
for now
and again now
and again
now
and again now, now
now
there is no time
between the call
and response
there is no time
to wait
for now it is life or death:
the care of peace or the chaos of despair
© 2020 threegoodwords

I remember this anger
the slow-simmering boil
clenched tight just above the gut
that sleepless certainty of knowing
you have been wronged
on every scale.
‘Stupid is as stupid does’
But I’m no Forrest
I can see the trees for what they are
the beginning of a long Heart of Darkness
where everything is warped
and wrong and upside down
because even the mood is toxic
and suddenly I can trace the battle scars
fading into the foreground
like that tattoo you forgot about
or those combat boots out back
grown dusty in the shed
the ones that helped you cross
that violent overgrown desert.
And now it’s time
time to take down the gas-mask
and strap on the worn leather
find your trusted binoculars
the ones without the fancy bits
but excellent night vision
now it is time to get out the maps
the combat notes, the exit strategies
and scout almost-forgotten terrain
because you know this is no joke.
this is as real as it gets
this is the old and known
enemy.
© 2017 threegoodwords
Words, images & collages tossed from a window.
Essays, notes & interviews on why literary fiction matters to human living
small press. great publishing.
but don't take my word for it
Home hub & scribble space of Prose Writer & Poet Kristiane Weeks-Rogers (she/hers), author of poetry collection: 'Self-Anointment with Lemons'.
A journey from one end of the bookshelf to the other