April 10 NaPoMo 2021

[CRNDLSM]

Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.

NaPM April 10, 2021

Topic: write a poem about angels

Form: any

Line Requirement: any

[TranquillityBase]

The Storyville Angels

I’ve pinned to my wall four portraits,
anonymous prostitutes of New Orleans circa 1912,
these are my momentary Muses,

my angels of Storyville,
though I know a prostitute’s life was squalid 
murderous but not enough to be fatal.

The John’s itinerary:
Above this saloon on South Rampart
was a little room, thousands of pictures made in France
fornication in all its possible positions;
the men drank downstairs, went upstairs to look at the pictures,
then ran over to Storyville just two blocks away.

But one cannot look at Bellocq’s portraits
and see anything but angels
and one possible mermaid
who seems to be gliding across a chaise-lounge.
Like all the angels, darkness is encroaching
on her naked innocence,
disfigured plates making shadows
like a black hand from Hell grasping her hip.
Her face is expressionless amid her wave tossed hair.

We have no names for these angels
no lives, nothing to distract
just these silent minutes of anonymous light.



the mermaid:     https://drive.google.com/file/d/1EHKj4H63kVjZIC9lqoqQPO2koBfnwP1O/view?usp=sharing

[Keith]

Street Angel

I heard the club close behind me
as I made my way to the taxi rank.
Drunk and wearing a kebab
hands in pockets, legs like Elvis.
The night was too cold for snow
but enough flakes
to make me focus.

I could see him across the street
curled in a doorway,
his cargo bag held like a child,
thin ankles poked into heavy boots.
A wire haired Jack Russell slept by his head
I though it was a white hat until it moved.

I could see these birds frozen,
falling still from a dark branch,
then an outstretched hand
gently touch his shoulder.
I could see his head lift
he was given a blanket, some soup
and conversation from a man
who put his arm around him.

I closed my eye's, not for the first time,
and he was gone.
I smiled beyond the night sky
as it spat out its snow flurry
lit by street lamps to make me blink.
A pigeon feather dislodged from
a high ledge above the shops
gently swayed its way down
to land at my feet.

Get lost, I said looking up again,
my Nan would have bought that
but I need more convincing.
I said it, but part of me knew
I was lying to myself
and for some reason,
talking to someone else.

[CRNDLSM]

I hate feelings, bottled up
When I go all day within
My mind, wanting to go out.
Then when she comes to my side
It's my chance to be forward,
And as the words turn over
A shelf of books crashes down
And she laughs as i land on my behind

[Mark A Becker]

In Memory of Faith

While on my way to church
I was always tempted
to wander by the creek
to scare up the green snakes.

But I sat in pews choked
by unholy perfume,
tried my best to believe
it was You in that room.

Not even Our Father
could save me Hail Mary!
I forgot half the words,
and heard Hell was scary.

I was praying that He
was well rested that day,
I hoped that He’d listen
to the way that I pray.

I had tried to believe,
so I thought we should speak,
went to meet after church
down the hill, by the creek…

But a young girl was there
sitting on the creek bed-
my prayers were answered
by an Angel, instead.

[Leaf]

Listening to Space's 'Avenging Angels'
   for the first time,
Em heard
   not kick-ass angels
   but Kit Kat angels --

a lesser-known order, maybe,
resplendent in red-and-white robes,
each wielding four chocolate-covered wafer fingers
for sickly-sweet revenge.

[dukealien]

Why Angels Sing


Why do we picture
angels singing?
Because they speak in verse
on the record, and we set
their poetry to melody
as if its words were secondary
when in truth they’re simply
universal?  Might it not be
their speech is so compelling
only human poetry
can evoke its beauty
and profundity?

                So, then
merely an observer effect
of that sort which leads to
speaking in tongues.
Move along, shepherds, nothing to see
here…  Ah!