The wonder was lost along the way,
and no wonder nobody could find it.
There’s no doubt that nobody cared,
and though the results were doubtful,
the resulting effects manifested somewhere
between effectual and perfect.
The prefecture of in-betweens led nowhere,
as if by bicycle or some other means,
but, regardless of the brevity,
the multinational uniformity called for others
to be some other something, or nobody.
Nothing that could stand without doubt
or the lack of wonder that had been missing.
It’s no wonder it wasn’t where it was left.
I am the best thing you've never heard of.
I hold a Bachelor's in English, History and Secondary Education, and a Master's in English: Creative Writing, though my appearance belies intelligence.
My goal in life is to write and to be read. It's a modest stretch by most imaginations.
To most I'm amazing.
It all depends on your definition of literary merit.
All poems contained on this blog are ©Thomas Boersma unless otherwise noted.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Poem-A-Day: Day 350
Wonder
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Poem-A-Day: Day 349
Lifting, Waits
the world waits
for the next great distraction
to wander from gravity,
for the next sacrificial goat
to goad the sin and sanctity
from what the world wants.
the world lifts
the shale and pumps it hard,
throwing the shit to the sky
to float high among the heavens
and bask in glory's hate,
of what the world likes.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Poem-A-Day: Day 348
Wind Blows Art Shows
the clouds were fake today.
dabs of stratus sporadic painted
on gray and blue altostratus wash
gentle floating cotton dabs
wistful movements of artistic beauty.
periodically the wash gives way
to white ink cirrus streaks
and some curious nimbus numbers
a staged and cumulus masterpiece.
albeit some creation of artifice.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Poem-A-Day: Day 347
Other Days, Other Dollars
Eyes blazing crystal stones
scathing wasted dreams at the sun,
and the screams ring sorrowed
solar flares; Osiris scheming dead.
The bottles draft fathoms
braising fated wings in silver,
and the things gleam borrowed
ion pairs; neutral charging knives.
Bodies writhing nature springs
washing vexed flesh to the bone,
and the sunders rain tattered
sinew tears; flagrant dreaming dread.
Nights flashing classic tones
sending animated nectar at the sky,
and the pains thunder scattered
shallow cries; beauty taking lives.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
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