My poem titled “Borders are in Season” won second prize at the 2019 Westminster Art Festival in Portage, MI. Read it here: https://www.westminsterartfestival.org/2019-poetry.
Category: Poem Page 1 of 6
In the poetry workshop I often go to, one writing prompt was to create our own poetry form. I was inspired by the image of a group of people holding hands in a circle. And so, the circle poem was born:
This poem forms a circle
within which it will reveal
its madness, like a gerbil
running in a fancy wheel
without an end. Every line
continues onto the next
line and alternate ones rhyme
but that may be too complex
for some. Before we are done
let’s also make each the same
length. Whether or not it’s fun
the final line should reclaim
the first. So our words let fly
and quickly jump this hurdle
if we can, because that’s why
this poem forms a circle.
I self-published a second booklet of my poems! “Small Stone Hearts” contains 26 of my more introspective poems, 8 of which have been previously posted on this blog. You can buy it now from Amazon. Other booksellers should also have the ability to order it. I hope you enjoy reading!
I wanted a way to share a few of my poems in a more traditional way so I decided to undertake this small experiment in self-publishing, coming up with this chapbook length book featuring 17 of my poems (12 of which have been previously posted on this blog). If you’re interested, you can buy it from Amazon now. Other booksellers should also have the ability to order it – if not immediately then in the near future.
Bruised Skies: Poems in Response to A World Gone Mad
The 17 poems in this short collection express dismay and anxiety over the state of life in this second decade of the 21stcentury, from the rise of fascism to the way we treat the earth and each other as we go about our everyday routines. Yet, at the same time, they call us to resistance and change while offering a glimpse of hope for the resurrection of compassion and connection.
Ghazal for America, 2018
Tell another tale: build a wall high and thick, brick by brick.
Kill the sick, grab the chick. That’ll make us great again.
Parched of reason, we’re Jonesing for more Kool-Aid.
Guzzle it down, quick now. We’ll never be sated again.
Men with power suffer blood drain from the brain, get too
keen on their peen, can’t they just stay home and masturbate again?
Editors drop fly attracting dung bombs defining reality in six words
or less. Fire all the headline writers and tell it straight again.
Send Sherman to march on Congress, leave no regulation unturned,
un-spurned, burn it all down faster than dems can create again.
Elected hoods robbin’ from the poor muse: sure would be nice
to tax ‘em and leave ‘em, to the rich we can donate again.
Politicos drain from swamp, leave billionaire snakes,
racist rats and nationalist alligators to alienate again.
Jesus must have said love your guns and your money as yourself.
How else would the Christians fall for the bait again?
Sticks and stones might break our bones but AR-15’s are harmless –
just ignore the dead children – can we ever close the flood gate again?
Not my fault says the bitter twitter assault. So bad, so sad
our prez eloquently opines. Will the abhorrent torrent ever abate again?
Go grand with your claim, never accept the blame: surely it must be
the black guy or that nasty woman. See how easy it is to hate again?
From seeds of integrity we harvest trees of fake news,
putting truth beyond our ken – and so we obfuscate again.
©2018 Kenneth W. Arthur