Poetry2ponder's Blog

“Today, I decided to type” by Trevor Witt

Today, I decided to type.
My fingers were too weary to hold
That pen with ink so bold
So impossible to delete,
A permanent record of mistakes.

I wanted fluid thought,
With no words scratched out,
Yet easily edited,
To hide my fragile ego,
To fix my flaws.

The pen lost today,
But here I am anyway,

Admitting (some of) my faults.

“I want to hold you and cry” by Trevor Witt

I want to hold you and cry,
And I want to spit in your face,

Someone asked today, “have you ever been married before?”
I told her the truth – no, but we were engaged.

But I did not say how your name was engraved on my soul,
How I was enraged and distraught, crying for months,
How I was so depressed that I had no desire to leave the house,
How my ability to love faded into obscurity, afraid to hug even my own shadow.

I did not speak about the daily joy of waking up,
Next to the person I loved, a daily miracle,
A simple joy, now lost, a memory more distant,
Now, I can barely remember the times I cooked for you.

I did not speak about how I blame myself for losing passion,
For neglecting romance,
For the lack of ambition.

I did not speak about how I blame you for taking me for granted,
For not texting or calling,
For coming home late,

For never learning my fucking birthday,
We both failed each other, like a team,
That made a nightmare from a dream,
Maybe it’s for the best we broke up,
Because I’d like to break your heart.

I did not speak about that.

“Dear Volodya Putin, (be careful)” by Trevor Witt

Dear Volodya Putin,
I fear for your safety in Moscow.
Russian windows are so dangerous!
They are worse than cancer!

It seems like everyone I know is falling,
Only days before they were flying.

Please be careful, little boy,
There are many violent strangers.
Maybe lock yourself in a windowless room?
You will be safe where no one can find you.

It seems like everyone I know is falling,
Only days before they were flying.

Do not dare go outside,
Because your rivals may make windows.
Do not eat anything,
Because your proteges may make poisons.
Do not love anyone,
Because you might one day have to kill them.

It seems like everyone I know is falling,
Only days before they were flying.

Poor little Putin,
Please, stay in your room,
Safe and alone,
Where no accidents will befall you.

“The mulch of my past” by Trevor Witt

I reached out today,
To a ghost I loved,
To a shadow I still do,
To a friend whose body of friendship I had buried,
To a girl I had nearly married.

I have let the branches of feeling wither,
Drying out after their pruning,
I have cut away pieces of myself,
To let air flow between my leaves,
So that I can heal and can grieve.

The mulch of my days past,
Will cover the ground beneath which I grow,
And over it, a shadow will it cast,
So that my waters may tarry as I plant and sow.

I am a seedling again, seeking to take root,
I am beginning again as new days are afoot.