Poetry

The Unspoken Agreement

I have never seen

a rabbit lying down–

not in the wild, anyway.

When they’re caged

and domesticated,

they’ll take a load off, sure,

either trusting whoever has them

or from sheer desperation.

Their eyes are like marbles

that don’t tell much

even if you were to look

long enough.

Why would you? Why would I?

I sit out on the porch

most nights

to unwind from the day.

These days I see rabbits

out there, lying in the grass,

eyes in my direction

but bodies still planted

on the ground.

I should probably chase them away

yet, yet . . .

I have never seen

so many rabbits lying down

.

.

.

.

.

.

Hey y’all. I didn’t plan on posting today but I’m literally just watching rabbits in the yard right now (it might be a slow night, lol.)

And now for a shameless plug:

If you haven’t already done so, feel free to check out the Unnecessary Podcast. My good friend Clint (also co-contributor on this site) hosts it (and I tag along to make an ass of myself 😉) We’re going to incorporate some poetry at some point so if you would like to read something on there (pre-recorded or otherwise) or have something read (likely by Clint), feel free to drop a line on the contact page or send me an email at cdanders91@gmail.com .

Hope y’all have a more exciting Friday night than me and these long-earred fiends😄 God bless! –the real C. D.

Reviews · Stuff

Revenge of the Unnecessary Podcast

“Somehow, we returned . . . ”

Episode III of the Unnecessary Podcast is up and running on the following sites:

Anchor

Spotify

Google Podcasts

Breaker

RadioPublic

PocketCasts

(If anyone is interested in reading their poetry on the program–by pre-recording an audio file, having it read, or some other method–feel free to contact us on the contact page or email cdanders91@gmail.com )

Hope you enjoy the episode. Have a good weekend! — Clint

Poetry

No One, P.O. Box: Somewhere

The box’s flag was now put down

so I rushed to get the mail,

I did not expect anything

since that’s all that came, no fail.

It was too soon and still I thought

there might be something in there

for I had mailed a letter to

No One

P.O. Box: Somewhere

To my surprise there was a note

there in that box most empty,

a letter–no return address–

with angry words aplenty.

“Do not reply, you callous fool,

rip this up like you agreed.

You will know it when you’re here

so don’t ruin it for me.”

That’s all he wrote within the note

but the story won’t end there,

I’ll write to future me again:

No One

P.O. Box: Somewhere

Poetry

Forever Young

Just another song

with another story

that I try to forget,

a song I’ve heard

a thousand times before

and a thousand times

since,

but sometimes

I hear him sing

those words again,

when they sneak through

the FM waves,

and I smile at

the fading memories

I have of you

Poetry

Add title

Start writing…

but what?

Where do I draw the line

between the words

and the inspiration?

Will they know

what I’m saying

when I don’t always know

myself?

Maybe if I cut the line

instead of drawing it

then there would be

room for change.

Start writing…

and tiptoe

through your mind,

stomping with

evasive words

Reviews · Stuff

The Unnecessary Podcast

It’s a day later than last week so we ran with it. Episode #2 of the Unnecessary Podcast is up and running on the following sites:

Anchor

Spotify

Breaker

Google Podcasts

RadioPublic

On this first “Stumbling Saturday” we talk about coffee and stumble into random discussions about music.

Are we right? Are we wrong? Who knows?

(If anyone is interested in reading their poetry on the program (or having it read, as mentioned towards the end), feel free to inquire on the contact page or email cdanders91@gmail.com )

Hope you enjoy the episode. Have a good weekend! — Clint

Poetry

The Sound of Falling Trees

Look here, now look and hear . . .

People carry cardboard signs, the remnant of old trees,

painted with large letters: I’M UPSET

but for what? It was not specified.

Pillows wet with tears

scream quietly in desperation

for the pain to end

and the silent cries uttered

from desperate hearts

echo through the body’s exterior:

looks of tiredness, anger,

shock, and apathy.

No letters, many signs.

Someone has a twitch in their eye,

another shudders at a touch,

yet another smiles

because that will at least mask

the silent yells.

Starving mothers, fathers, siblings

give the only morsel

to the child.

Multitudes stand silent

and wait.

Wait.

And wait.

A noise is heard ’round the world,

“Help!” Help who? Who needs it?

No one said they needed help . . .

If a tree falls in the forest

and no one is there to hear it–

Yes, yes, most definitely yes,

the forest reaches

beyond the bark

of our own trees.

Look here, now look and hear.