Poetry – mark t. collins

Holy Week Sonnet 4

Betrayed by a friend cuts deeper than bone, deeper still than flesh, laying the soul bare. Such a wound makes you painfully aware yet dulls senses, you feel only alone. The darkness of night drones on, on, on, on. Into nothing, never-blinking eyes stare. Again, again replays arise in air And like grasping for smoke,Continue reading “Holy Week Sonnet 4”

Holy Week Sonnet 3

Passover is upon us. Time to slay the Lamb, perfect, life laid down, silent, bound. Remember when the death angel came ‘round. Put blood on the door to live one more day. But, how much longer can we live this way? Kill, remember, repeat. In this we’ve found solace in sacrifice each time around. ButContinue reading “Holy Week Sonnet 3”

Holy Week Sonnet 1 (April 5)

Triumphant the borrowed colt bore through town Messiah over palm branches thrown down. Crowds gather ‘round to him, aloud they sing, “Hosanna, save us! Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord,” and then, “Glory in the highest. Peace in heaven.” Such celebration for a king is fit, yet Jesus onContinue reading “Holy Week Sonnet 1 (April 5)”

The Noises That Boyses Make

“Be on your best behavior,” I said to my boys. “Our guest will soon be here. Absolutely no noise!” DING DONG! Someone’s at the front door “She’s here,” I say. “Our neighbor, Mrs. Greeley. Run along. Be quiet. Go play.” The boys ran off to the back room. They listened to me! “Mrs. Greeley, comeContinue reading “The Noises That Boyses Make”

Ella Toe Head

Ella Toe Head On a morning just like any other morning, Ella woke up an got out of bed. She looked in the mirror and screamed! “AHHH! When did I grow toes on my head?” Ella made her way downstairs. Her mother walked past her and didn’t think twice as she smiled at her daughter andContinue reading “Ella Toe Head”

Cyrus Maxwell

Cyrus Maxwell Cyrus Maxwell is a lovely lad. Even though his breath smells bad. Garbage for supper then straight on to bed. In the morning you’d’ve thought his insides were dead. Cyrus can hardly keep a buddy ’cause his words smell so cruddy. If you go too far, it might make him yell and everything inContinue reading “Cyrus Maxwell”