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Crown Cinquain of Doubt.

Crown Cinquain of Doubt.

I sit to contemplate my future. What will be will be was never my preferred mantra.   I want to make choices grown from my heart, my soul. No more rash decisions rooted in fear.   And yet the angst looms still. No faith in fate springs from the past and I lack courage to push on.   I need a crystal ball to tell me all will work out as I yearn for sanguine prom- ises.   I must rally or risk stagnation. Forge ahead. Pretend I know the pathway but can I? I’m joining the March Poetry Slam at yeah write with this crown cinquain....
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Caught.

Caught.

I didn’t think she knew.

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Eleven Seventeen.

Eleven Seventeen.

I’ve been sitting at my desk for hours. My stomach growls. I check the time to see if I can eat lunch yet. It’s 11:17. Of course it is. ****** A few days later: I’m cleaning up the kitchen. My eye catches the clock on the stove. 11:18. I giggle and sigh, relieved. I turn to the microwave, forgetting my appliances are rarely in sync. 11:17. Damn it. ****** Another time: I wake up on my couch, a rerun of Parks and Recreation playing on Netflix. I check my phone to see how long I’ve been asleep. Not long. It’s 11:17. ****** I’m in the car...
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Fade Away.

Fade Away.

Am I even really here?

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All the Cool Kids are Writing Sonnets.

All the Cool Kids are Writing Sonnets.

I never really intended to get myself roped into a sonnet poetry slam, but it happened.