Apr 30, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 22 (Make up for day 22)

Urban Prairie Dogs

Cubicles are lined up in rows,
like on a farm of prairie dogs.
Working away, taking many calls,
in the call center, with low walls.

Occasionally a prairie dog pops his head
above the cube wall,
between calls,
seen by the supervisor.

“Get back in your burrow,
we have callers waiting,”
The pale prairie dog agent
plugs back in his headset,
digging into the cubicle,
“Thank you for call,
my name is….”

Dilbert is laughing,
more material for his comic strip.

April 30, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 18 (Make up for day 18)

We Are Down

Administering the PBX ,
I mean phone system, I found 19 T1s down,
I check the by 24-line phones lines
and find nothing wrong on our end.
I put a ticket in to check the carrier, AT&T
While all this is going on
supervisors call my cell phone, repeatedly.
The 10 voicemails on my phone tell me,
in no uncertain terms, there are
no calls in queue, the agents are
sitting idle.

Trying the outside toll free #, 800-Buy Stuff,
and I am getting a fast busy signal.
Oh no, Service Levels
Take a dive,
customer satisfaction
down the tubes, when they can’t
get through.

AT&T calls,
“Does your equipment have power?”
“Is your line coding b8zs?”
“Can we do intrusive testing

Yes and
Yes….we are not getting any calls, Intrusively test away.
All T1s are back up, now!
AT&T did nothing, they say.
Likely story.
What, now the queues are flooded with calls?!

Just another day in the call center.

April 30, 2008

Written from the prompt on Jargon at Read Write Poem.

NaPoWriMo # 17 (Make Up)

Lead Balloons

My energy is low.
Lead balloons hang on my shoulders.

I’m stuck in my seat,
clicking away on my computer.

Can’t seem to shake the tiredness
that hangs over me like fog
covering San Francisco Bay.

Zombi-like I make it through my workday.

Emotions take me down a track,
to a tunnel deep within.

Introspection and silence overwhelm me.

Fear and paralysis lead me to wonder if
depression has grabbed me,
or am I just over-tired

maybe it’s some of both.

April 30, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 30

News In My Email

My friend is sick, only 42,
needs a liver transplant,
after his gall bladder was removed,
two days before,
after a pace maker was put in,
four months before,
after he fainted several times,
two months before
after he found his job may be ending,
six months before.

Email updates for prayer,
sent out twice daily,
50 people on the list,
a chain of phone calls behind
the email list ,
keeps me informed,
almost in a clinical way,
reading news of a dear friend’s peril.

Life can be fragile,
not old, but no longer young.
I feel powerless,
as reading a news article detailing
events of a man in Australia but my
friends name was inserted in the article.
More such emails will come about
news of friends and loved ones.
Our invincibility has made
way for fragility.
Value time with family and friends.
Tragedy and hospital visits,
late calls and unexpected emails,
may change everything,
as life goes on....

I keep checking my email
hoping the next update
brings better news of my friend.

April 30, 2008

Apr 26, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 26

Digital Natives

My kids are digital natives.
They don’t know a time,
Without the internet, email and cell phones.
They can watch “TV”
on the TV or on the Disneychannel.com.
Club Penguin, Webkins, and other virtual
worlds for kids are their play grounds.
When my son was 3 he could
out-mouse his grandmother

They think it novel,
when we talk of the old days.
I wrote letters,
with pen and paper,
to their mom when she
was away at college.

Cell phones now ubiquitous,
once we used pay phones.
4 out of 5 us have a cell phone,
sharing minutes, keeping linked together.

Reality is we are all becoming more digital:
More with each email,
more with each cell call,
more with each mouse click.

We are digital immigrants,
traveling further and further
from an analog, snail-mail, world,

Into the natural digital world
our kids inhabit as naturally as
drinking a glass of water.

April 26, 2008

Apr 24, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 24

Get Back Quickly

I rode my bike 5 miles to the ATM,
my mother told me to get
as much cash as allowed.
We needed to get to a hotel,
before he got back from his drunken rage.

A thirteen year old on an adult's errand,
I just did what I was told.
So I pedaled quickly in the dark,
across town with my
mother's ATM card and PIN number
in my pocket.

Apr 23, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 23

Roller Coaster Ride

The stock market is emotional,
at times a basket case. It’s like
a legal gambling playground,
for grown-ups.
Wild ups and downs, turning
on the words of men like
Bernanke now, and Greenspan before.
One day the Bulls run,
the next the Bears growl.
Boys listening to stories of
Chicken Little and Humpty Dumpty
show more control.

The roller coaster ride grabs
the attention of many big kids,
who lose their marbles,
at the thought of a thrilling ride.

April 23, 2008

Apr 21, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 21


Poetry-- is it
high end journaling or more
message for masses?

Apr 20, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 20

A Blessing At Ground Zero

Fire and Ground Zero,
the lives of many of New York’s
finest were lost.

The Pope spoke with and
prayed for 24 today.
A brother of a man from Ladder
114 met with the Pope.

He stood for Jimmy,
who was found by him
and his father 6 years ago.
The brother spoke to the Pope,
selected out of many, hopefully
healing will come

4 Brothers, and a father
before, them wore the uniform.
“God bless you ,”
said the pope.
3 brothers remain
in the uniform,
fighting fires,
for Jimmy.

Ground Zero,
In memory of the ,
fallen heroes, sacred
resting place for many souls.

April 20, 2008

Inspired by an article in the New York Times

Apr 19, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 19

Broken Heart

Collateral damage,
brings the sober truth
lives torn apart
The heartbreaking trauma of



Emotional pain

of emotion,
of trust,
of love,
of life.

“Sorry I meant to say”,

Falls so flat.

The heart is just an organ
But so fragile in emotion,
In life.

I carry your heart
in my heart.

April 19, 2008

Apr 18, 2008

Missed a day for NaPoWriMo

I missed a day. I didn't write a poem yesterday. I could blame it on traveling home from Denver, but I had time to write a poem, but was doing other things. I will keep going and post one today and try to come back with one for the 17th.

Apr 17, 2008

Poem In Your Pocket Day (poem on my blog instead)

Today is Poem in your pocket day, as mentioned by Michelle over at Poefusion

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

by Robert Herrick

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles today

Tomorrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

The higher he's a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run,

And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,

And while ye may, go marry;

For having lost but once your prime,

You may forever tarry.

Apr 16, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 16

Other Lawns

Snow falls in Denver while I
think about the Subway in New York
Wanderlust captures my thoughts,
when I go somewhere new. The grass
is so green in these new places.
Visiting Dallas, Atlanta, Knoxville, green
grew as it did in Knoxville and San Antonio.
After 2 weeks in Scottsdale for work, the color
faded for me.

I can’t be happy where I am,
always wanting to be on a different lawn.
Those other lawns might end be brown and
burnt or even we and swampy. I still am wherever
I go, my problems come along .
In the morning
I’d still have to mow the grass.

April 16, 2008

Apr 15, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 15

Who am I Made to Be?

I want to try,
If I could fly,
But my feet are on the ground,
So often not making a sound.
If I would fight, I could
with all my might,
Find myself,
Find myself,
To be someone else,
Other that the facade I wear,
But could I dare,
to risk all my insecurities
getting rid of all my vanities,
and be the man, God made me to be.

April 15, 2008

Apr 14, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 14

Day Fourteen in Denver

Dead tired after
a plane ride to Denver.
Parking was bad in Downtown
but didn’t get the “Denver Boot”,
just fed the meters lots of quarters.
Took pictures
of two different Starbucks,
I’m a bit of a coffee addict & fanatic,
while taking in the Denver atmosphere.
Back at my hotel,
I laughed out loud alone,
as I watched a Youtube video
of an elephant in Burma,
painting a self portrait.
How profound.

I’m dead tired.

April 14, 2008

Apr 13, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 13

Perfect Day

On a planet far away,
a talking dog has a perfect day.
Rex got up, as usual,
read the paper.
He drank his Sumatra Coffee,
while riding the bullet tube to work.
His boss sauntered in after him,
never asking about the report,
three weeks overdue.

Work day done,
tube ride back to his section of town,
met Lulu at the dog park.
Ooh there were some good smells today.
Another quick tube ride across town with Lulu.
Met the guys at the Dogotorium.
Puffed a few excellent Martian cigars,
and had an excellent dinner.
They make the best bone filet there.

Later, when Lulu and he were alone,
drinking coffee with dessert at Barkbucks,
Rex was fearless
he popped the question.
Lulu said yes.
She would be his bride.

April 13, 2008

Apr 12, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 12

Throw It Out With the Trash

Throw it out,
I can’t think.
Throw it out,
I just blink.
Throw it out,
not the baby.
Throw it out,
with the trash.
Throw it out,
empty egg cartons.
Throw it out,
empty promises.
Throw it out,
hollow words.
Throw it out,
writer’s block.
Throw it out,
can’t even talk.
Throw it out,
without your clout.
Throw it out,
In a pinch.
Throw it out,
life’s a cinch.
Throw it out,
old dirty sock.
Throw it out,
big red rock.
Throw it out,
what a rout.
Throw it out,
don’t you pout.
Throw it out,
old sour milk.
Throw it out,
moth-eaten silk.
Throw it out,
dirty diaper pail.
Throw it out,
piles of mail.
Throw it out,
lines not written.
Throw it out,
dreams not lived.
Throw it out,
trips not taken.
Throw it out,
chances passed by.
Throw it out,
days I’ve wasted.
Throw it out,
regrets of yesterday
Throw it out,
long carried grudges
Throw it out,
anger expressed hastily.
Throw it out,
my self- doubt.
Throw it out,
week old trout.

Throw it out,
without a doubt.

April 12, 2008

Apr 11, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 11

Stuck On The Prairie

They mouth freedom,
So livid at the majesty,
Not seen in the garden.
They want to imagine a brilliant time
When their enterprise
Brings to fruition
Years of hard work.

Until then,
The are like immigrants
In a covered wagon
Stuck on the prairie,
Putting the comfort
Of their opinions away

April 11, 2008
Poem made started from randomly picking magnetic poetry words.

Apr 10, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 10: I am Captivated

I am Captivated

I hear words play,
condensed, distilled,
large, rich and full.
Over and over,
new scenes unfold.
The clock ticks,
midnight looms.
The calendar page
is tipping while I hurry.
Robert Pinksy speaks,
Stanley Kunitz presents,
Louise Gl├╝ck and others
I never met
hold my attention.

Recordings of poems
echo still, even
after my iPod stopped.

NaPoWriMo # 9.5

I will post poem # 10 later, but thought this was really cool and can be found here. I saw this on Chicklegirl's site for her NaPoWriMo # 8.

Apr 9, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 9: Far From Home

Far From Home

Friends are far away,
heart lonely
Many voicemails left.

Loyalty I have
for them, but
I need more friendships.

Virtual world can
be lonely,
Need more real contact.

Eight years of desert,
is wearing on me.

Hundred miles away
doesn’t seem
as far as it feels.

Phone calls and email
Is often
not enough for me.

Should I return home,
is the grass,
as green as I hope?

Or is the story,
for me, you
can’t get there from here.

Friends are far away;
my time in
the desert prevails

April 9, 2008

This Poem is a Lune, and was a prompt at Poefusion Blog. The Lune was invented by poet Robert Kelly. It's a three line poem with a syllable count of 5/3/5.

Apr 8, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 8

Former Wisconsin Beauty Queen

Flowered mesh captures hair floating above sun-glassed eyes
She sneaked the harsh Chinese cigarettes
Striking the match on the bottom of her shoe
Her cloyingly touch caused my brother to seethe
She changed her name and learned to swim
Rolled her hips and shimmied at a club on Calle Ocho.

She’s a bit of a strange old bird
With her nest of curly gray hair
So, three husbands and two dogs later,
she left Kenosha and
moved down to Ft. Lauderdale.

She’s making friends and breaking
hearts at the Royal Palms Retirement Community.
There she spikes the punch on bingo night,
and raises eyebrows and heartbeats with
her provocative, flamboyant shuffleboard style.
She may get kicked out,
once again,
If her chain-smoking
doesn’t finish her off first.

April 8, 2008
Finished from lines of a Chain Poem at ReadWritePoem.

Apr 7, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 7: Flight to Boston

Flight to Boston

I had to get to the airport,
to catch a flight to Boston.
I thought it best
to get to the airport by bicycle.
I could not get the over-sized suitcase
onto the small bike rack,
that hangs over the back tire.

At the last minute had to catch a cab,
and somehow arrived at the airport
nine hours early for my flight to Boston.
I camped out in a tent city
at the airport, my stuff strewn about
everywhere, with all the other nomads.

The airport white phone,
kept calling my name,
interfering with my airport camp out.
Each time I got back from the
white courtesy phone, my campsite
became larger, more dispersed.

After hitting the snooze,
maybe a dozen times
I cancelled my flight,
packed up my suitcase,
moved out of the tent city,

And got dressed for work.

April 7, 2008

Apr 5, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 6: Secret Agent

Secret Agent

The paper fell down from the window as a butterfly,
it was barely legible, going through a vapor of steam,
steam from a vaporizer that calmed the babies cry.
I woke up suddenly, wishing it was only a bad dream.

The dampness of my sweat completely soaked my hair,
while the train I rode on passed by a lake,
and like the young foal of a mare
the train was carrying me to my rendezvous, I am late.

This steam drenched paper must prove more than a test,
what will I gather from the papers to create?
Among the secret documents I’ve now found a mess,
enough to keep the KGB agent from thinking he can sedate
me and keep from thinking their scheme
was more than a pile of broken wicker.

April 5, 2008

Prompt from Poefusion using the format, Bout-Rimes, with the words:
The words are:
butterfly, steam, cry, dream
hair, lake, mare, late
test, create, mess, sedate
scheme, wicker

Bout-Rimes is French for "rhymed ends." A bouts- rimes poem is created by one person's making up a list of rhymed words and giving it to another person, who in turn writes the lines that end with those rhymes, in the same order in which they were given.

NaPoWriMo # 5: Exciting Routines

Exciting Routines

who needs it anyway.
You have to always,
Go out and dump it,
it smells and is messy.
Then you have to remember
to put it out to the curb,
on the right night,
with the right combo of cans,
“Is it green waste or
is it recycling this week?”

now that’s another exciting topic.
Our mail man loves us,
Always having to stuff our mail
into our box.
It’s his guilty pleasure.

One time he cut us off.
My wife had to go down and pick it up,

And he caught her there:
“I know you, “ he said, startling
and embarrassing her as
he handed the huge stack to her.

We love to let it pile up on the counter….

April 5, 2008

Apr 4, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 4: Purple Flowers

Purple Flowers

I remember

The purple flowers in the vase,
my eleven-year-old daughter gave to me
for Christmas when she was three.
Bought at the dollar store,
the love in them is priceless.

I remember

Her standing on the toy box
at less than 2 with zest and zeal,
declaring herself, “Captain S., the Story Teller!”
I see her clapping in a silly motion,
getting us both to join in.

Now I see

The days of soccer t-shirts everyday
have moved onto the shelf,
making room for more
fashionable clothes from Limited Too.

She’s growing now, a tween,
Hannah Montana and other
Disney shows are the soundtrack
that plays in our house now. Her Netflix
queue always has something new
to send out. Soon she's off to Jr. High
and high school not long after that.
Later I will look back to
Her Hannah Montana days,
with fondness, when she’s left her behind,
for someone new.

I will remember

One day my little girl
Leaving home for college,
then walking her down the aisle,
and giving her away.

Right now

I just want to remember
the purple flowers that say
“I love you Daddy”

April 4, 2008

Apr 3, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 3: Siren’s Calling

Siren’s Calling

Starbucks' cup logo is changing to brown, what a travesty upon us!

The green mermaid calls as I circumnavigate the globe, to my office cubicle.

Like a beacon of light she guides through the waves of cars, I hear her voice.

I hear the siren calling out to me. No, it’s a police car chasing!

What's that officer? You don't care about mermaids….I ran a red light.

Don't worry about brown, he says, yellow is your color today, your Ticket!

(This poem is a made up of multiple American Sentences, developed as an alternative to Haiku by Allen Ginsberg. An American sentence is 17 syllables in one line. )

Apr 2, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 2

Aunt Ada

Aunt Ada came to live us
when she was 70, not able
to live on her own anymore.
I remember the long drive to Clear Lake
to bring the small, thin woman
back to our home.
Her house was dark and had a musty smell to it,
with lots of nick knacks
collected through the years.

Early on we found out she had cancer,
after a lifetime of smoking.
At Christmastime I went to Macy’s
to find a gift for her with
a friend from school. We asked
the salesperson for a teacup,
but it had to be “very light,
since she's not in good health.”
What a funny sight,
two young guys
in the China section.

Aunt Ada was a feisty old woman,
defiant to the end.
She sneaked the harsh Chinese cigarettes
my step dad brought from China,
that were too strong for him.
We found the empty boxes in her dresser
when sorting through her things,
after she passed away.

My mom passed on her dresser
to me, when I married 15 years ago.
It still sits in my room today.

April 2, 2008

The Diving Board for this poem was the prompt on Aunts over at ReadWritePoem.

Apr 1, 2008

NaPoWriMo # 1


What do I pass on,
What is the legacy I leave my children?
The heritage passed on from me,
May it be honorable,
Not one of anger, strife, or abandonment.

What legacy was left for me?
Parents began with an affair,
dissolved 13 years later in divorce,
not a sturdy foundation for my sister and me.
My father suffered mentally,
Several breakdowns ravaged him.
We were built on brokenness,
Multiple step-parents on both sides,
Came in and out of lives
We cobbled together the life we could,
We had each other,
we found family in friends,
stability in Faith.

Both married now with kids,
We are building our families, our legacies.
A new generation formed,
Commitment, love, faith and hard work,
Shape the new families,
We forge a new way.

What’s deep inside us,
only activated with the pressure
And stress that children sometimes bring?
Fighting siblings, disabilities, reactions, passions,
Emotions sometimes bubble out,
Surprising us.
Responding or reacting,
Which one happens?
Contentment or combustion,
What legacy calls from the past
To the future we are molding?
We must battle
must not settle
for what comes naturally
through inertia.
Legacies of brokenness
do not have to be the ones
we leave, but will not be easy.
We must unravel the brokenness
that shaped us.
Conscious effort,
covered with prayer,
we must fight,
building better legacies.
Legacy of love, stability,
legacy of commitment, perseverance,
we must build a wall
around our families.
A fortress of strength and stability
will protect our children.
A foundation of faith and love,
builds a better heritage,
a stronger castle,
not on sinking sands.

April 1, 2008