Poetry; What Do You Look For In A Poem?

Poetry is a craft, as well as an art, and the skills required are demanding. Does it have to make sense? Maybe, but not always and not to every reader. 

© Refrains, Trains, and Blood Stains

Power-drunken swain;

No more dirty martinis.

No praise for burning bridges.

No lingering of warring breaths.

Duplicitous thoughts are

Transported from damning platforms

To complicity to brain enemas and keep

Chugging like an iron commuter.

Fragile viles discolored by

Hyperbolic rhetoric blacken souls.

Drained life juices soil terra firma.

Liquid words smudged across walls.

Mimi Wolske

All Rights Reserved

I’m Vulnerable When Disseminating in Eustachian-Colored Lingerie

© I’m Vulnerable When Disseminating in Eustachian-Colored Lingerie

In what vat are the grapes of wrath stored?

I’d like to know so I can dispose of it. I’m tired of seeing the results from its drunken state.

Unfortunately, prejudice of every kind, in every form, entails some to expose their intolerance and hatred and to burn the rest of us with wrath’s toxic waste.

Where is it written we must Darwinize these Satanistic characteristics as inborn truths and behaviors?

Can’t we all, all Americans, all humans, posit the peace and love genes?

Can’t we all spasm and belch and regurgitate the poison of hatred?

If not, then someone else please take my seat, ride proxy for me on this pendulum, take my place and run this last race in a world spinning like a tilt-a-whirl that’s about to tilt off its axis.

Set me free.

Mimi Wolske