Author: poetryfest

I never would have asked
If I’d known you would say “yes”
The idea of time alone with you
Is scaring me to death

Axes couldn’t cut me
Half as deep as you
I’m reinforcing my walls
To keep you from breaking through

How dare you look me in the eye
Smile and call my bluff.
I liked the way that I’d been living.
Now my smooth sailing’s getting rough.

There are a million reasons why it won’t work
I don’t want to sing this same sad song again.
But you forced my hand so I’m forced to try
To play this stupid game I know I’ll never win.

What is it about you? Why is my curiosity piqued?
Is it your brain or our matching baggage that makes you so unique?
Is it your cold black heart or the warmth I feel when you’re around?
What is it about you that makes me get so wound?

Your eyes see through me. I must now be transparent.
My words are smashed together, I’m rambling and incoherent.
I want to tell you everything, but my silence says it all.
You’re setting me up but I don’t want to fall.

I bask in the glow that comes from your smile.
I’m such a fool to keep myself in this denial.
I want to hear your words and make you laugh
And keep your smile for myself.

Since our first hello, I have felt like a new man.
For the first time in years, I feel human.
The excitement, the awkwardness, the butterflies, the dreaming
I feel confidence bubble up, replacing my insecurity and over thinking.
I find myself floating instead of constantly sinking.

It is what it is
But I want what it ain’t
I am a canvas
You are the paint.

I don’t want to wait for it.
I don’t want to throw away my shot
I want to show you who I truly am
And lose my fear of who I am not.

The man in me is stepping up
Coming on to take the lead
You are the first woman I want
And the first I did not need.

What’s at the end of this winding road?
I do not exactly know.
But I want to find out
So fuck this fear, take my hand. Let’s go!

Would that I could cough up what cannot be transformed,
the way owls do.
At the base of the meadow,
pines and firs cover the slope.
Gray droppings, roughly cylindrical, litter the ground.
Loose shapes like half-smoked cigars,
30 or more scattered under a pine.
Poke one with a stick,
and find it made of gray fur
stippled with the tiny bones
of field mice and voles.
Owls eat them whole, absorb the nutrients
then cough up fur and bone.

Would that I could cough up what cannot be absorbed.
Partial truths splinter like bones in the throat.
Lies of omission –like spat fur– belong to nothing.
A man tells you his marriage is over,
then reconciles with his wife on the down low
but says nothing, hedging his bets,
until the day his secret fledges,
and shoves you out.
A hard, abrupt landing
thuds the wind from your lungs, the beat from your heart
leaves your chest hollow, airless.

Would that I could cough up betrayal.

The washing machine rumbles in quick wash mode
I pause my poetry for awhile
for things to be done, a day to go by

Plates, pots, pans sulk in the kitchen sink, staring in
demand
The milk comes to a boil, I stir the bubbles
they rise, swell and spill out making a scene
again.
The washing machine gives a loud tumble roar
Ants take a detour as I scrub off the warm milk stain from
the counter
but it has seeped into the crevices of the cold marble,
where you had put me down and taken me
Gentle and wild at once
In sweet warmth of wet skin
Sugar grains on coarse salt

Soak, tremble, spin, and drain
With one last groan it is done
aloud beeped the washing machine
A perfect wash to my poetry

‘Thinking thoughts of joy and
Happiness overflowing with love
I am living the best life
Rating it all on the stars
The hundred thousand million of them
Year on year adding more.

This is what life is all about
Happy little simple moments
Reaching always for positive light
Energy moving and constantly growing
Every single year.‘

Kind Regards

Charlotte
charlottefay.com
Instagram/Twitter: @charlofay

The plans I had, baby a man can only dream
A life time it seemed
Now, I sit here and wonder, what if
I guess letting go was your special gift
No remorse for my feelings I see
At the bottom of the barrel you left me to be
Yet there was nothing to pull me back
Now for your love, the ambition I lack
Watching this fire die gave me a memory
Now realizing why the emotions have a dull sensory
This goal I had for us was clearly deferred
They said don’t push, she’ll come around
Be patient, build her up from the ground
Tune in and listen to love a wonderful sound
Wrap her up, watch her blossom and bloom
With all your work, she’ll shine as the brightest in the room
Go above and beyond for that woman they said
Treat her like a lady, they beat into my head
Make her the happiest or the consequences you’ll dread
Clearly this book of love is completed fucked
Because in love we do soooo much and what
Yup you guessed it, a swift kick to the butt
Oh yeah , You was right, bingo we have a winner
The starter kit to love, right for a beginner
Sadly, when you get to where I am,
you’d rather sit to the side

WHY?

Unfortunately, the love I had took me on horrible ride
Trying to shake the thought of you,

ha,

no where near easy
Replacement after another, yeah it seems sleazy
Same ol song but I was tired of the familiar tune
Reached out for help and told me the demons would release soon
Did I let go the day I drowned my sorrow
Shit at this point a new heart I’m ready to borrow
Shawty girl caught me lacking, got a damn ring
Now I’m here stuck, certain songs I can’t even sing
If this was a treasure hunt, I think someone hid the X
I say that because it seemed I was preparing you for the next
A spot marked for another, yet at times it seemed so right
Then at times our future seemed so bright
Now look at us, distant as fuck no rekindle in sight
That’s the game of love and my ass was player fucking one

And just to think…

when I smashed that bottle

I THOUGHT I was done….

-Laye Da Writer

Performed by Val Cole

READ POEM:

I am waiting
for shrink-wrapped facts to fall from the bellies of planes
while gators slide across water and insects roar.

I am waiting
for a country-western singer without a pickup,
for a horse bounding
through grasses flung like long hair in the wind.

I am waiting
for unstandardized tests
that measure empathy and intuition.
I am waiting
for ravens to play on a wind shear,
fly into it, get flung skyward,
bank, turn, and float to the ground.

I am waiting for Orcas to swim up the Columbia,
for grizzlies to hold clam bakes,
and for hummingbirds to outclass helicopters.

I am waiting for my horoscope to apologize for being wrong,
for bull snakes to stretch full out across a dirt road,
and bask in the sun.

I am waiting for Gandhi, Jesus, Mohammed and Abe
to dance with the Blackfeet Buffalo Women,
laugh and joke with the Motokiks.

I am waiting for the original Americans to get back their land.

I am waiting for feminist Mormons to start a new religion,
for white male alcoholics to stop talking and listen. Listen.
And for Pipe-Fitter Barbie to make union wages.

I am waiting for wild bees to swarm to a new hive.

I am waiting for justice to heal the bereaved.

I am waiting for the bathwater that holds all the babies thrown out with it.

I am waiting for a Luna moth
at a gas station
in Cherokee country.

I am waiting for camp coffee
and a Dutch oven breakfast
on a gravel bar where the river divides.
I am waiting for a quiet boat
in the current
where the river comes together again.

Performed by Val Cole

Read Poem:

Leroy my neighbor had some lottery luck
But he went off and blew it all on a big old monster truck
Now he can’t afford to drive it
The gas cost too much
Leroy’s old lady she packed and left
She was pissed that Leroy was only thinking of himself
But if I know Leroy
He wasn’t thinking at all

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Wendy Lou the widow lives across the street
She keeps bringing strange men over for something to eat
I don’t know what she’s cooking
But you never see those strangers again
She invited me for dinner just the other night
Said she was in the mood for something tasty and white
But I politely declined
For reasons clearly obvious

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Tommy the mailman weighs over four hundred pounds
Everybody’s amazed how fast he makes his rounds
He says the secret to his speed
Is all in his shoes
So I went online ordered fifty-three pair
One for each week and one to spare
But I don’t move no faster
Cause I ain’t going nowhere

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Little Bobby Jenkins is the kid that lives next door
He’s a mean little bastard, the kind you can’t ignore
He throws rocks at my windows and tries to lynch my cat
Before he gets much older, I know what I’m gonna do
I’m gonna get me a pit bull
The kind that likes to chew
Little bastard kids
And their bastard parents too

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Sad Old Henry lives in the gray house to my left
But no one ever sees him
He keeps completely to himself
He has everything delivered
By a man dressed in black
There’s a rumor that a woman broke his heart in two
And fifty years later He’s still got the blues
Man, I wish I had me a memory…half that sweet

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

Freddy Jones the salesman is a very proud man
But he lost his job a year ago, now he’s living hand to hand
And the bank where he does business
Doesn’t care or understand
So Freddy Jones and family are moving out next week
Corporate downsizing has kicked them in the street
And the rich get richer
Everybody else just moves

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

I used to be a soldier stationed in Iraq
But when I lost a leg or two
They had to send me back
I ain’t bitter
I just don’t dance as cool
Now the goverment sends me money that barely pays the rent
I guess it’s just their little way of showing some repent
You know “support the troops” and all that…stuff

Now my neighbors all around me stop by to pay respect
They wanna to see those medals hanging from my neck
But I gave ’em all to Leroy
So he can buy some gas
Sometimes this world is beautiful, sometimes this world is mean
It all depends on how you look at everything you’ve seen
And I’ve seen plenty
On the street where I live

And I’m just sitting on the front porch getting high
Watching my street passing by

The Note Pinned to my Heart Reads…, by Mark Kirkbride

I have been struck by lightning, twice,
once in the neck, once in the Trossachs.
I crawled out of a crash with whiplash
and made a bleeding, limping dash
across the border. Armed guards fired.
I’ve stowed away on boats and planes
and jumped from high-speed, foreign trains.

You keep the curtains closed all day
and never come out before dark.
It’s a wonder we ever met.
I found you wandering the streets
like Aphrodite in a nightie.

I’ve been in fights, been read my rights.
I changed my surname by deed poll
and still got chased by Interpol.
I’ve phoned from every call box,
mailed cards from every post box,
just to tell you, ‘I’m on my way
and getting closer every day.’

When I crawl up your garden path,
your mum tells me to go away.
I can’t go on, I can’t go back.
When you wake in the morning
you will find me dead on your doorstep.

Young girls are what you seem to deem,
Smooth, unaware of their pristine.
Flat to bone, spines forming rocky paths,
Easy footstools for you to pass.

No weeds have grown forth to block their kingdoms,
So you fantasize at night,
About riding in as their knight.
A saviours touch turns one into victim.

But I’ve turned my ribs into piano keys for you,
Play an f-sharp and I’ll lash lips in nylon for you,
Crawl on collarbone, peroxide curtains for shelter,
You would do anything to make me feel better.

And I’ve dried up my insides for you,
Fornication in formaldehyde to stop the peel,
Watch veins vacillate, illustrating your world view,
Stuff, stitch, then give me the seal.

Dead leaves on the trees.
Dead leaves inside of me.
But we’ll both get swallowed into the ground eventually.