Tag Archives: sam dotson

How Does It Add Up?

Good morning, all. Today is going to be a damn good day, I feel it. There’s a lot to look forward to and little to look back on. Please enjoy a poem that probably won’t make much sense unless you really think on the words. Please enjoy.

Sum of It All

When all is lost and all you’ve found

is in the lost and the found,

I ask but once,

wherefore do you plunder?

When there your body is torn asunder.

It’s time to leave,

it’s time to go.

With the morning

comes the whitest doe.

Visions of peace and plentitudes

that bring about new platitudes

and leave us wanting more from life

amidst the ashes come from strife.

Bering sea,

bear the sea

and come upon the Holy See.

Be found wanting

by the taunting.

Rise against the ashes

and effervescent attachés.

The day is come

to sound the drum

and hear the final sum.

Can You Make It Make Sense?

Good morning, all. It doesn’t make sense. Never makes sense. Can you make it make sense? Probably not. I guess we’ll see. Enjoy the poem today, friends. It’s a short one.

What is Perfect is not Flawless

What is perfect is not flawless.

No, it is not contradictory.

Me?

A hypocrite?

A liar?

Never the man you think I am.

Never the man I think I am.

What is perfect is not flawless.

Made in the image of Gods.

How could you be imperfect?

Even the Gods were not flawless,

no matter how perfect.

Come One, Come All!

Evening, everyone! Apologies for the late post today. Had a busy one the past couple days. I’ve got something I think most of you should relate to, especially those moms in the audience *wink*. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the poem, mon amis. Sleep well tonight, and feast in the halls of giants!

Tired

So tired

can hardly lift my eyelids,

and yet,

there I am at the top of the mountain,

screaming out my lungs.

I have so much energy,

and yet,

I am so tired, 

just so god damned tired.

I don’t hurt.

Not like before.

I ache.

A dull, lasting, resounding ache

that reverberates through my bones.

Oh, how it all feels so…

wrong.

It has been a good day today,

and yet,

I am exhausted.

Down there in my core

nothing awaits the rising or the setting of the sun,

no thing at all.

Missed Call

Not a whole lot to say today, friends. I hope you have a wonderful mother’s day! Please enjoy the poem !

Missed Call

That’s what gives you hope?

The stinging, ringing feeling

of some unknown isotope.

Always leaves you reeling.

A good man, you say.

Do you know what that means?

Those words…

How deep they cut.

I hope one day

for a cushion

instead of a knife.

I hope to lie in peace,

perhaps,

rather than on a bed of nails.

Always poised

as if to be struck.

Now what kind of life

does this one make?

What kind of life

does this one take?

Broken and unbroken…

I don’t know how the pieces go together.

Maybe One Day

Good afternoon, friends. I’m always dreaming of the sun. I’m often dreaming of love and the future and what might be. Join me for a moment. Enjoy the poem today. I think you’ll like it. PS: I was just published in the first issue of Mind Swimmer! Go check out Julia’s website at https://smarellijulia.wixsite.com/mindswimmer!

Little Love Story

Is that what you want?

A love story?

You want to find yourself on a pier, set against the waves, awash under the light of the moon?

You want to lose yourself in those storied, starry eyes reflecting all your stories back at you?

Maybe one day.

Maybe one day you’ll sit there on the porch,

rocking back and forth

while the kids play inside

and the afternoon sun rolls over your tired old skin.

One day,

maybe,

it’ll all make sense

and you’ll wonder why

you ever worried at all.

One day

you’ll find your little love story.