poetry

X-Factor

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X-tra careful, mate

She is the X

The mate who may strike

With sharp fangs and claws

 

She is the X

X marks the spot

Where horror and lies abide

And a heart full of pain resides

 

X marks the spot

For life changing ways

To clutter your brain forever

And drive you to the grave

 

For life changing ways

She’ll kill your desire

To function as normal and nice

Amidst the clatter of life’s pain

 

She’ll kill your desire

To have another

Or ever be superman again

If you don’t watch out for her

 

To have another

And you will some day

Life must be good and pure

Honor rule the day

 

To have another

Simply pray

 

–Victoria Emmons, 2013

 

La Lune Mangée

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I saw it from my open deck

That shadow ate the moon tonight

Slice by slice, the darkness

Slowly swallowed every bite

 

One star hovered to the west

Another from the northeast

A misty cloud of heavenly fog

Surrounded that cannibal feast

 

And soon the moon looked sad to me

Exposed in that black sky

Like a rubber ball hung by a string

In a universe of blackberry pie

 

 Turned into a 7th grade science project

The moon lost its shine and glow

Destined to win a prized blue ribbon

For achieving Best in Show

 

The stars seemed to protect the orb

Saving it from fate or fame

Until it could once right itself

Wrest away its cloak of shame

 

Tasted an eclipse myself that night

Watching an orgy of the sky

Oreo cookie melted in my mouth

The moon be gone, as was I.

 

–Victoria Emmons, 2014

Advice to the Love Lorne: Begin a New Chapter

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Appreciate those who eagerly

Await your return

Those whose wet noses

Press against your leg

And whose warm bodies

Find your sleeve.

 

Don’t lament those who deftly

Cast your feelings aside

In favor of a new town,

A new love, a new adventure

And wander out of your life

As easily as they broke in.

 

By Victoria Emmons

2011

 

Is Poetry Pathetic?

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Some people do not understand poetry, much less poets. They say that poetry is pathetic, has no real meaning, and is nonsensical. But I disagree with the naysayers. They are simple minds with no depth. They have no way of knowing about the pleasures of poetry and the pleasures of poets.

The poetic mind is constantly filled with song…words that dip and dive into action at any moment. Poets are able to see life through the natural rhythm of words, no matter what language. From deep within, a poet is able to create a mood, a thought-provoking scene, a self-battle of tortuous dimension, a humorous spoof, a loving tribute. No matter what, the poet can carve words out of nothing. And do it over and over again every moment of every day.

Long live the poet!