Tag: spilled poetry

Disarmed

You were armed to the teeth

With something underneath

Disarmed by my smile

That goofy grin not yet yellow,

You ran away for miles

Losing your shoes in the mire.

Years later it was your turn

I was disarmed by your beauty,

But I ran to you not away

For yours is a beauty that beckoned me

Closer and closer still

Until nothing between us but time,

Time to let our love perfect,

Sweetening and intoxicating as

Years go by.

– Vagabond Prophet

Prompt Day 30

Islands built in lake beds

One thing her hometown

And my hometown have in common.

Lake water seeped into soil

Transforming into corn,

Mangos, tomatoes, jalapenos.

Everything worth eating.

Surrounded by volcanoes

Reminding me beauty and joy

Always come with risk.

I miss the people with skin of brown

And it taking all day to drive through town.

Pyramids reaching to the sun

And journeying it with son on back.

I expected new flavours and smells

I expected new sights and sounds

But I could never expect

A tattoo on my spirit.

Flourish and dance entrance

This stoic gringo in plaid

Leaving me speechless,

My words already meaningless.

Family I’d never met embrace me

With more tenacity than those back home,

I met every shade of every colour

On the concrete walls of houses,

I met every type of kindness

On the inside of open hearts.

My stomach always full

From the generosity of others,

Need to wake there soon

To smell a thousand smells

Whispering I’m welcome.

Home in a brand new way,

Cajeta resonating in a maple syrup man,

Pine needles replaced with cactus spines.

My money went far, my heart went further

Hasn’t quite come back

I’m going to have to chase it.

– Vagabond Prophet

      – I’m in love with Mexico in case you didn’t catch on, and as such I don’t believe I’ve done it any kind of justice. Anyways that’s the end of my prompts for National Poetry Writing Month. Drop me a line!

Our DNA braided together
To make a brand new person,
Now laying in our bed
Perpendicular to logic itself.

I’ll be woken by a sleepy kick
In the jaw or the nose,
But to lose her and gain sleep
Would be the stuff of nightmares.

Vagabond Prophet

Prompt Day 29

Baa baa black sheep have you any wool?

Any trough not yet full

Any fervor to pull

In a direction of my choosing?

Away from the herd

You can fly like a bird

You’ll be more at home

If you leave your present loam.

Baa baa black sheep you may be a bear

Taken for a sheep, didn’t even care.

If your teeth are sharp be what you are

Do you work, I’ll do mine, play this harp from afar.

– Vagabond Prophet

      – Today’s prompt: Renovate a Nursery Rhyme.

Seeing Red


We can argue whether

Blood is red or blue

Instead of addressing

The hole it’s spilling out of.

Or we could staunch the flow

By whatever we can find,

Cloth left bleaching in the sun

Just waiting for opportunity

To be dyed by tragedy.

I understand you’re both

Feeling blue and seeing red

But we can mend this over time

So don’t let it all unwind.

– Vagabond Prophet

I’ve got a sugar rush with nowhere to put it. So I’ll stand here sneering at nobody in particular, I’m just spending my magic on condescension and hoping I make some friends. I’m yeastless but sweet like seedless watermelon, excepting of course for my perpetual dehydration. Too much coffee not enough water, interesting that four spoons of grounds can outweigh two cups of water and make the scales come crashing down one sided. Some things are potent and unyielding, so fully single faceted and unable to negotiate for the ambition of just one goal pounding in their ears.

– Vagabond Prophet

       – First ever sprint like that.

Prompt Day 27


Most nights dreamless

Sleep found seamless

A border into restfulness

With no crossing guard.

My dreams get out during day

And at night I won’t dismay

For I’ve got magic in my brain

And lyrics in my vain.

I won’t wait for dreams at night

I won’t chew my nails and bite

It’s like waiting for high tide

While sitting at the lake side.

The body content in its fullness

In its being fed by outside sources,

And in the stillness of the night.

– Vagabond Prophet

        – Today’s prompt: 

Write about the dreams that keep you up at night.

Would love to see other peoples work on this prompt.

Floorboard

I’ll be your groaning floorboard

Known by grunts of pleasure

To be near your footfall.

I’ll be your squeaky door

Always lamenting

To see you go.

I’ll be your lumpy mattress

Flawed but supportive,

Shaped over time

To the curve of your spine

And always rattled by our love.

– Vagabond Prophet

Dead Grapes


Fifty year old Bordeaux

A truly lovely bottle,

Travel back in time

See history of this wine

And be shocked at transformation.

Before alcohol

Before corks and bottles

Before oak casks

Is simply a mound of dead grapes.

Musn’t be afraid of death,

Only doorway

To another kind of life.

– Vagabond Prophet