GM Spear Poetry Collection
Now Available on Amazon.
 

For a more complete selection of GMSpear's Poetry, please visit her Tumblr.


sane

I’m mowing the lawn in a blizzard,
And shoveling the driveway in rain.

I’m walking at night,
and sleeping in sunlight,
and wonder if I’ll ever be sane.


Christopher Fields

I wrote that letter in selfishness, though I knew it would tear us apart.

I wrote it without restraint because a fortune cookies said to follow my heart.

And now I live out every day staring at the post card you wrote,

The one in which my ego was stroked to the point of no return.

I loved you then as I love you now, and think I will never forget,

For no matter how many blind bachelors I dine, not one to you has crept.

I know you are journeyed and in far off places you roam,
but it’s a comfort for me just to see the same white faced satellite in the heavenly dome.

Somewhere you are and love another you will and perhaps never love me at all,

But try as I may, there’s nothing new to say to the only other chess piece on this checkers board.


The thing plugged into the wall.

Weren’t we supposed to glamour and awe at the way you made life simple?
Made life easy?
Instead we spend hours of precious lives working at you like a pimple,
wondering the cause.
When you so easily break or freeze,where is the ease?
The ease you promised when you “saved us time” or “organized our lives”.
No, you lied.
You dump files into place we can not traverse.
You destroy afternoons with even worse,
a virus you catch, for which there is no medicine.
Just aggravation over your pretension
and grieving for your choice selection of tidbits of our memories and information
You will feel no remorse in forgetting.
An irrevocable amnesia.
A destruction of digital proportions.
An extortion;
That only you can leave humanity to rue any such creations.


The ganderers and I

I saw airplanes connect Orion’s dots like pencils in the coloring book of the sky.

And on the darkened ground specked with lighted spots stood the ganderers and I.

We watched the moon laugh his laugh as he never turned his face,

And the heavens rotate like the innards of a clock—meticulous and estranged.