Doomsday & Poetry

Judgment day has come and gone, yet we are all still here. It must be because we're all sinners. We will all suffer in torment for the next 5 months. Bring it on, End of Days! You may have Jesus on your side, but I got plenty of canned goods and appropriate end-of-days clothing, as suggested by religious sanctions. yeaaa.

On another note, here's some just-for-fun descriptive poetry (they're not exactly new material but I can barely think right now so no new writing).

My heart lies with Nantasket Beach. I grew up on a small peninsula just south of Boston. Everywhere you look there's ocean. My backyard was sand. I miss it. Cheers to home....

NANTASKET BEACH

Without notice the sun dashes

in to hiding, protected by a throng

of pewter clouds extending across

the encompassing sky. Droplets begin

pelting down, warning everyone to flee.

Almost instantly every towel, boombox,

shovel, and sunscreen are tossed into straw

bags, raced to the parking lot, and retired

to the trunk. Standing on my porch I feel

my hair curling from the thick moisture. The slightest

breeze tingles my fried summer skin, sending

shivers through every limb. The taste

of rain mixed with seaweed-infested air wafts

toward shore, overwhelming the atmosphere.

Thunder echoes and I count the seconds before

the yellow-white rays jolt

out of the clouds. Lightning

glistens over the ferocious waves.

Absolutely enthralled by its shock,

I soak up the storm before, without notice, it

disappears into the horizon.

This is my favorite part of summer-

Crowds disappear and finally the beach

takes a break. As the sun sets

the sky radiates vibrant pink-red-purple

beams, as though it was blushing.

The pitter-patter of the waves cradle

me to sleep as darkness blankets

every dune.

__________________________________________Nantasket Sunrise___

Here's another silly one (at least the ladies will giggle):

THE BEST PLACE TO CURE A FLUSTERED

HEART IS, OF COURSE, THE SHOE DEPARTMENT.

Aisles upon aisles of flats, straps, boots, everything

from classy to chintzy, striking to humdrum. Carelessly

wandering up and down rows, trying on pairs

as I please. Some slip on easily but pinch, some fit perfectly

but are unsightly, others too small, too plain, too costly.

I’ve been known to give into jazzy shoes, the ones that show

off my legs but leave blisters in the morning. Typical.

Check-out time and I find myself choosing between

classic New Balance sneakers and stunning Steve Madden heels.

Tennis shoes are practical and reliable. Unlike the open toe

high heeled kicks, I could wear runner’s shoes

everyday and let them accommodate every curve and arch

of my fragile feet, lending all the support I need. Pumps

aren’t exactly comfortable, but damn are they sexy. Tango

straps, my favorite color, and a dent in my wallet.

They call my name. I call their name.

They make me forget the last pair of heels I owned

that resulted in crutches. I try them on back and forth,

sneakers and pumps, debating.

How could I possibly choose between the man who

lovingly treats me with concern and the guy

who carelessly sets ablaze my desire?

I’ve come to get away but suddenly

I’m back where I started.

___________________________________________

I try different types of poetry just for fun (clearly amateur but who cares).. more to come.

K thanks for reading :)