Day: February 1, 2015

(winter’s ugliness)

roadside snow piled high

mixing with dirt and roadway

winter’s ugliness

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

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She Demands I Write For Her

So I am to write

So to your fare

So to your good looks, beauty

So shut me out

Do it, again

Sloppy writing

So as I am writing

You will be happy

Yeah, this is me

So let’s move on

Forge ahead

So you can read into this

Take out what you will

Believe it to be about your beauty

When, in reality

This was written about nothing

Nothing, nothing at all

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

 

No Bouquet Of Roses

I sit in a small room

There are no flowers in here

No bouquet of roses in front of a well-lit mirror

Nothing here to signify greatness

No notes from fans, managers or lovers

There is only this small desk and chair

An ashtray and a cup of coffee

There isn’t a clock on the wall

And now could be any of many times

I smoke

I wait patiently

I’m nervous, but I try to tell myself that I’m not

Then it comes

The knock on the door

“Everyone’s here.  They’re waiting on you.”

I stand

Straighten my tie, smooth my jacket

I draw one final rip of my smoke

Exhale, and wash it back with one last sip of coffee

“Coming”, I say

And with that, I leave the room

And head into

The lion’s den

© Dicky J Loweman 2015