Let’s Hear Those Rhymes. March is Poetry Month!

A Poem

This month Trauma to Art is focusing on poetry. Currently I am in New York for a workshop and to see some amazing friends. While sitting in a cramped Starbucks on W 35th and 8th, I purchased this poem from a gentleman with a very compelling sales pitch: “Does anyone have a quarter for a poem?” I don’t know about you, but that’s a steal. I had two quarters, so I passed them along and I am now the proud owner of an awesome memento of my first stop in New York.

Sucker MC’s by Jones B.

Sucker MC’s with now ryming (sic) skills!

Sounding foolish telling lies and tales.

Speaking violence and ignorent’s.. (sic)

Leading the youth to the grave or prison fence.

March’s Topic

This month we’re looking for poetry submissions. Ones about grief or ones that make you smile or poems you’ve heard that move you. Email me or submit your poem in the comment box below.

Personally I love haiku. This is my haiku from MamaQuest (my blog) A Haiku to Spread the Love:

How to make love last. / Love everyone and you’ll see. / Love pours back. Easy.

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4 Responses to “Let’s Hear Those Rhymes. March is Poetry Month!”
  1. This is one of my many poems that I wrote in the months after my brother’s death. I was trying to capture the many mixed feelings and thoughts I experienced and was lucky enough to perform this at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival 🙂

    IS IT WRONG?

    Is it wrong to be glad my brother´s dead?

    Glad for him, knowing that he´s happy and at peace
    Experiencing the new wonders
    Of the new world he now inhabits
    Glad knowing that nothing can ever hurt him again
    When I have failed to protect my baby little brother.

    Glad know he never has to participate
    In the aftermath of this terrible tragedy.
    Glad knowing that he never knew what killed him
    Seeing only an immensely beautiful bright light
    That´s almost indescribable.

    Glad knowing that his spirit lives on, knowing
    That lessons taught by him will be remembered
    And passed on, to others.
    Glad, knowing that physically he may not be here
    But still when I need him, I call. And he will come.

    In comparison the pain and anger that consumes
    My entire being is put into perspective
    Is is for MY selfish reasons that I still want Peter alive.
    Yet when all I have ever wanted for him
    Is happiness, I ask you again

    Is it wrong to be glad my brothers dead?

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