May your ears screech
With the creaking of cellar doors,
While your heart echos the splintering of a shattered soul;

May your eyes melt
With tears,
as your skin
sizzles in shame;

May your spit be crossed with Arsenic,
Your tongue, a scythe
That dooms the lies you decree;

May your nose, cascading scum,
Sneeze out the lust that danced
while you fermented in your desire;

and

May your life be as
A room full of 30 empty chairs;
Love’s casket leading in their lament.

You’ve yet to speak,
Still you swirl in my thoughts
Like a hungry vulture

I want you to experience Life.

Life that, without your mother, will batter your patience
With the man who tries, to feed you infant formula and pat your back till you
burp,
But can’t fill that tenantless chair, that empty nest of stolen devotion.

Life that will burn the plastic off your lampshade,
that boy will create a crack of sorrow on your heart,
And you’ll call, needing a ride, crying, and I’ll just say that it’s ok
Because now you can understand your father.

Life that will steal you to marriage.
I will stand in line; my right hand a prisoner of war,
my left boycotting this oceanic alliance,
because I’m losing you, my writing hand, to some dude with a Corvette.

Life that will let you be a mother,
that headache from an old testament God,
letting you fill your own chair with your written laughter,

What I want for you is the knowledge that I sit today,
widower and Father,
and praise your life.

This is the assignment for my poetry class this week. We were to write a persona poem, a poem that's speaker is not the poet. I dont want to ruin the poem; so just let me what you think.

A Chip.

While I've got you here,
Mr. No caffeine for me- strictly Decaf-
(Do you think of my well being when you say that?
Maybe I need a shot or two to heat my inner self.)

We need to talk.

I can still remember warm milk by our bedside, Tolkien slept next to me, while the lamp and I
(Did you throw her out too?)
Flirted pull sting with handle.

I remember eggnog and nutmeg
the snow outside the window looked like flakes of sugar,
I always swirled a little just to see the whipped cream decorate your nose.

And remember your wedding night?
Who was the one that tipped out of the cupboard
red wine in your hand, shyness fleeing from my white stare?

Now this. A chip to disgrace my gold rim.
as if the tea ring ‘round my nethers wasn’t enough for you,
I bet you dropped me on purpose didn't you?

Don’t look at me with that rag,
you can't clean away my feelings.
You can't sip away my pain.

I use to think your eyes were like hot chocolate,
we had something special -you and I-
Now because of this chip, I get the can.

IT WAS YOUR FAULT.
I was sleeping away, dreaming of a certain mocha latte that
always animates my porcelain,

When you grabbed that new thermo-whatever
and knocked me awake with a crash,
breaking away my dignity.

We're washed-up, on ice,

Trashed.