Tag: peoplewithpoetry

Prompt Day 3

Oh this land of my growth

Of child and adulthood both,

Fertile fields and damp springs

Your dewy air to everything clings.

Smelling of equal parts manure and marijuana

You’re rich with flora and fauna,

The valley where the lake was drained

It’s residue leaving soil darkly stained.

How expert your fields

For the weather never yields

And yet you open up an angle obtuse

Spouting forth such lovely produce.

You grow and you grow

The rate becoming less slow

Others learning what I’ve always known

The truth engraved inside my bone.

This land so moist and green

This land so yearning and keen,

With vigor in the air

And mountains everywhere.

It will raise one strong

And so I belong

In this strangely sized municipality

With all of its vitality.

– Vagabond Prophet

Drove across the line for fuel
Saving thirty cents per litre,
If I save it long enough
I might go to the theatre.

It’s getting harder and harder
To get earth to donate blood
Soon I’ll need a boat
To sail upon a flood.

Vagabond Prophet

Wood and nails
Hammer made rails
Climb just to climb.

Ascending so high
So far with each try,
And so far to fall.

Build kingdoms just to watch them fall
Have children and then see them crawl
Experience the best teacher.

So this castle though broken
Is of learning a grand token.
Go on and do great things, whoever you are.

– Vagabond Prophet

Blink

Clad in not but sand

You make clear your demand

Everything eventually runs out of blood.

The blood that launched a thousand ships

Powered by your blood,

Ironic,

Catatonic.

Blink once if you’re alive,

No I said blink not start a hurricane!

Blink twice if you can hear me,

Ugh you and your volcanic outbursts.

You mother estranged from child

You hostess with most unruly guests,

We learn but oh so slowly.

– Vagabond Prophet

Medicine

Some poisons are sweet to taste

But destined to invade,

Some medicines are bitter to the tongue

Though whole again you’ll be made.

Though it’s true not all invasions are evil

And medicine is not food

It’s going to take all your fight

To combat this blight.

Ooh to sort one’s thoughts out

Question each and every one,

It’s grueling and exhausting

If you give up I don’t blame you.

It’s less like finding a needle in a haystack,

More like finding the needle in a stack of needles,

The one with ill intent.

Do you know where to start?

First avoid any natural tendency

And see if your feet find better ground,

Then walk into the light

No matter how much it hurts.

– Vagabond Prophet

Epiglottis

No epiglottis left,

Both breathing and swallowing everything,

Taking all into stomach and lungs.

Only then will you know every part of life

With every part of you.

A canvas of your living,

Painted in real time.

Move your arm,

One stroke of a brush,

Sweep your legs in an arc

One more brushstroke.

When body evicts soul,

And all your deeds extolled

Then your grand masterpiece will be unveiled

All colours layered and snuggling together

All blood stirred throughout.

Live a life that people years later,

Don’t stare at the framed article hanging

Saying, “I wonder what this one’s about.”

– Vagabond Prophet

HOV Lane


If you’re the kind of person

With enough baggage to use

The carpool lane alone

You’re not alone.

Want somebody to ride with?

We’ll get more smiles per hour,

We’ll kill the suspension shortly

With the weight of it all.

Do you care?

I don’t,

When the car breaks down

Leave the baggage in the trunk

Keep on walking and watch it all burn.

– Vagabond Prophet

Minstrel

Days in a row now

You’ve got your stool in the foyer,

Gnarled fingernails

Classical guitar.

Strumming and plucking,

Most beautifully

Did somebody hire you?

Or did you just see a need?

For those with cancer

You play in C minor,

Important work you’re doing.

You minstrel of meningitis,

Troubadour of tuberculosis

Don’t give up we need you so.

– Vagabond Prophet

Stumble

Just when I think I can do this on my own

You kill the lights,

“See how you shine, without being known.”

I fumble and mumble

Can’t find the light switch,

I stagger and stumble.

Mind bleaching

Colour stripping

Hand reaching.

“Need me back do you?”

You say it’s okay, already died for that,

For this fault you always knew.

– Vagabond Prophet