Thanks once again to all of you who take the time to read, encourage, and create here at Poetic Bloomings.

Marie’s Feature

This week, I had a hard time deciding between a complex piece, and one that is simple, yet spoke to me immediately.  I decided to feature Mike Maher’s “Sometimes in Distant Parts.”  This is a fabulous example of a highly intricate, layered script that is filled with analogy and perception. I had to read it several times to appreciate it, quite honestly.  But that is part of the intrigue. When we dig to find a piece is dense with jewels, it is well worth the dig. Bravo, Mike!

Sometimes in Distant Parts
(Mike Maher)

I’d like to contact the previous renter of this apartment
not to complain about the paint splatters
left in the kitchen sink or on the closet doors,
but to ask for more
and to ask where she found the time
and if she left any of it behind.
It’s not yet 11:00 and by the time
I’m done looking for time
it’s December
and the greyness is already thick.
I keep forgetting to stop and remember
that I am not the Conqueror Worm.
How did we get this far into the years
without understanding more about the human brain,
only able to estimate its amount of neurons within 15 billion neurons
and that starfish do not have them?
One article begins with
“It is located in the head, usually”
and although my brain knows very little
about other brains, surely we should have gotten further by now.
To the man pushing the cart,
why won’t you help Icarus?
I didn’t realize the Walrus was a villain
says Lennon,
but by then it was too late.

Walt’s DEcision:

A poets (all poets) find a time where muse doesn’t matter anymore. Or has just stagnated to indifference. Sometimes we need a break to step away and re-evaluate the situation, sometimes we look elsewhere for a solution. My choice for Beautiful Bloom this week expresses that simply but pointedly. De Jackson takes stock in that regard with her poem, AUDIT.

AUDIT by De Miller Jackson

Don’t wanna be a poet no more.
Don’t wanna be a writer no more.
Don’t wanna do this drama no more.
Don’t wanna be a mamma no more.

Don’t wanna run in circles no more.
Don’t wanna pen for pittance no more.
Don’t wanna pay my dues no more.
Don’t wanna sing these blues no more.

No more.
No more.
No more taxation
…without proper libation.

Congratulations to Mike Maher and De Miller Jackson