#fatherless #poetry #poems #iamyourfather #brother #love

at a funeral he mumbles, “I don’t have a father…”
his haunted hallways finally hollowed,
toughed up and tainted by a one-too-many
“fishing, I’ll be there by three” promise
his heavy, tar-stained heart
now plucked vows like bloody strings on a guitar
and crippling “don’t have a dad” darkness;
love, you shouldn’t have to force it
so you left it where he left you–
on the doorstep;
and I wonder what’s worse:
one that’s buried and you never knew
or a fiend with a son he never gave a chance to?

perhaps you can love him once he’s dead

-iekika nikole

She’s Not

She’s not a suffering black hole
that’ll let you rent for free,
doesn’t have wicked demons
walking in slippers
in satin sands on the Cove of Tennessee.
Her nightmares aren’t drunken pollution
meant to indulge or deceive.
She’s not a dirty word
you stutter in your sockless,
swollen sleep.
She’s just ordinary,
moon-gazing,
raw poetry;
and her bestseller love
is her own agony.
Digs her own grave with every
staggered breath
and borrowed apology;
just a hurried hurricane
in a hidden graveyard of pain,
hesitant to let go of almost memories.

-iekika nikole

#poemcrazy workshop 4/29/2017

Went to a writing workshop yesterday. We pulled words from books and made word pools, used word tickets, postcards, and pages ripped from an old dictionary; and then we wrote poems from those words. I stepped out of my box and wrote some things I normally wouldn’t have. (I usually like to rhyme.) The author #susangoldsmithwooldridge signed my copy of #poemcrazy and gave us each a “poetic license.” #funday #poetry #writing


been trudging for months,
knee-deep in honey-colored
darkness
so shackled
even the sociable sun couldn’t
smear these bitter thoughts
till he lathered his words up
like tangled lace on a ladder
and we stood in sapphire silence
moon-watching the other
like lustful astronauts