Category Archives: Poetry

Glassblowing (NSFW, but who’s working?)

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                Glassblowing (NSFW, but who’s working?)

Am I crazy to think of my broken heart… 

My broken soul,

 Like glass, broken five times will heal?

My soul exploded like Mt St Helens.

The pieces turned to molten glass, scattered to the winds, buried.

I’m not trying to be found, but I’d like help.

An adventurous soul willing to help me be reforged anew.

I need a glassmith.

A glassmith interested in my glass.

Someone with a love for me, as hot as a furnace, patient enough to work me through the process. 

I’ve been through the crucible furnace. I am open to molding myself anew. Don’t test my integrity. 

I’m as much glass as the glassmith.

For a relationship is both.

I’ll only be myself, not what you want me to be. 

Just as I want you to be yourself, and not what others think you should be.

I’m… I’m open to your “gloryhole” furnace. (suggestive eyebrow gif)

…LMAO, I can’t believe it’s actually called that!

Believe me, I need to be tempered as much as possible. Got some catching up to do with the other glass.

Please feel free to leer at me suggestively, without malice.

I’ve shattered far too many times from the thermal stress.

Waiting for the right glassmith.

I’ve broken and broken up because…

Right when I heat up for them, they cool off on me, and  I break again.

No more. 

Why doesn’t anyone want to take the time?

I was hooked onto a furnace which was cold to me.

She was warm every so often… but that ain’t enough for love. 

That leads to fragile glass. 

That broken glass leads to broken hearts.

Broken hearts, broken glass , leaves pain. 

I haven’t been formed before by a glassmith, so feel free to use your tools on me.

We’ll find out what I prefer with time, and I’m good with that.

All I want is for someone to choose me, and be patient.

This glass needs some white-hot love so I can feel bright pink hot.

Beneath our sandblasted surface hides delicate emotions and a glass heart.

Men’s feelings are glass too. 

So, if it ain’t too much, I’d like to ask the ladies of the world interested in my glass….

Would you please…

Run me through your furnaces, and:

Blow my glass! 

The end.

Inspired  reading from wikipedia: “Glassblowing involves three furnaces. The first, which contains a crucible of molten glass, is simply referred to as “the furnace”. The second is called the “glory hole”, and is used to reheat a piece in between steps of working with it. The final furnace is called the “lehr” or “annealer”, and is used to slowly cool the glass, over a period of a few hours to a few days, depending on the size of the pieces. This keeps the glass from cracking or shattering due to thermal stress. Historically, all three furnaces were contained in one structure, with a set of progressively cooler chambers for each of the three purposes.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glassblowing

As I was finishing this post today, I realized that I did not have any relevant pictures of glass, glassmithing, or things to take photos of. So, I worked with what I did have, the roses outside my room which bloom every June. This is the most sexual, or lewd thing I have written so far.

Songs of the week:

Kiss from a rose by Seal

Forget you by Ceelo Green

Somebody to love by Queen

If you enjoyed reading this, give it a like, comment, follow and share on Facebook, and subscribe to my email list! Don’t forget to wash your hands, clean your cell phone, and keep your physical distance from others to fight Covid-19!

Brownies – A comfort food poem.

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Oh Brownies I made two weeks ago. I dream of you now as you are all gone. Oh wait, I bought chocolate chips again yesterday! Soon… I can eat you again.

    I hear the glass pan of the brownies, cut into a dozen, the top covered in plastic wrap. It’s whispering to me seductions of chocolate dark as night. Sweet, vanilla, bitter, complex chocolate. A hint of cayenne pepper. The line between comfort and addiction is teetering on a cliff. I resist bungee jumping into the crumbly, fudgey, canyon. Not quite cake, not quite cookie… I must ration you for the mysterious week ahead.

I can’t eat brownies that aren’t homemade. It’s close to lunch now, so I’ll eat.

Oh brownies, you are comfort in a world of intolerance, racism, and darkness. For a few hours, I melt away into the joy you give.

I don’t know why I was so embarrassed to post this poem online. Something silly. Maybe what’s that what we need as America moves forward, finally, for change. A little silliness so we can be calm to work through the problems. The violence wasn’t necessary. We just wanted to sit down and talk about issues. Peacefully.

Want to make them? Here is how: https://theunknownreillyblog.wordpress.com/2020/06/07/brownies-for-a-friend/

Seattle in June 2020

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It’s a rainy June day in Seattle.

Today the grey clouds and rain, a welcome change.

The peace roses outside my window in bloom.

Hues of yellow, cream, and pink.

A welcome break from the police violence.

All the protestors want is to be heard, peacefully.

Rubber bullets, flash-bang grenades, and gas warfare are unnecessary.

Please take off your armor.

Disarm your weapons, throw them to the ground.

March with us. 

I’m at home in my green walled room.

I’ve been too afraid of covid19 to march in protest.

I must manage my mental health.

While an excuse, it’s still giving in to fear.

Fear that if I’m exposed that I will put my older mother in danger of dying because she is part of the vulnerable group.

But that is what the civil rights movement, Black Lives Matter movement is all about.

It’s about showing us white folk the fear, violence, and injustice that Blue folk have been doing to them since America started. Blue uniforms with red on the mind.

Facebook posting isn’t enough.

You gotta show up too.

Voting will help… But that’s months away.

March in June.

In the name of love.

Song of the post, Pride by U2:

Song of the week: Pride (In the name of love) -Live- By U2.

If you enjoyed reading this, give it a like, comment, follow and share on Facebook, and subscribe to my email list!

Don’t forget to wash your hands, clean your cell phone, and keep your physical distance from others to fight Covid-19! The facebook page is also what I use to post updates if late, like I was last week.

The last at bat

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How could you respond to a handwritten letter… with a text message?

Your throwing at my head, but I swing and miss as I fall backward into the ground to avoid your fastball.

Strike 1. Fastball. Swung and missed.

Surprise me with your relationship status, yet keep it vague?

I mutter to myself in the batter’s box that no answer is an answer.

I dug in my back foot in the dirt of the batter’s box as I have done every at bat in my life. Slide my left foot parallel to my back right foot. Wind my bat in a circle clockwise. I’m in my stance ready to hit. 

Love isn’t a game to me.

Strike two: A slider on the outer corner of the strike zone. 

You can’t fool me with your knuckleballs. 

I fouled both off in the upper decks. Would’ve been a home run if they’d only been 2 feet closer to the foul poles.

I’m not going to strike out again.

Everyone was fooled when I bunted strike two.

I knew I’d be out if I missed the sweet spot of the barrel of the bat.

I simply didn’t care anymore.

This is the kind of hitter I am. 

I’d rather it could be a productive out than not.

Strike 3: a fouled off fastball inside. Foul tip caught by the catcher.

That’s 3 outs! Game over!

I’d rather be out by you, and never face you again. 

I’d rather try someone else. 

I now know I need further seasoning in the minor leagues. 

Going 0-5 will do that.

I’m tired of this organization, and it’s tired of me.

I’m looking to start fresh with a new one. 

They thought I was worthy of a shot at the Major Leagues, and I never appreciated them for that. Though they drafted me, it was time for change. 

I still have a shot with someone else. My batting mechanics need work.

But I can still play defense.

I guess it was a long shot to hit a home run off of a Major League all star as a pinch hitter.

I’ll tip my cap to you if we ever meet again.

And that folks is the end of tonight’s game. 

It was a cold sunny February day.

The roof was closed in the stadium.

This has been your Announcer, Reilly Anderson.

That’ll be all from me,

Now for the post game show.

Click!

The end.

PS thoughts

I’m taking a different approach today since last week’s post was 2 days late. I’ll be busy today, going to a local protest march and errands, so I’ll be doing a couple small posts in the time between stuff.

If you enjoyed reading this, give it a like, comment, follow and share on Facebook, and subscribe to my email list!

Don’t forget to wash your hands, clean your cell phone, and keep your physical distance from others to fight Covid-19! The facebook page is also what I use to post updates if late, like I was last week.

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