NaPoWriMo #11

Another Day At The Office


Rex arrived late to work, second time this week,
Darn bullet tube train running late, again.
Rex still hoped his boss wouldn’t remember,
wouldn’t ask about the late report.

Report could wait,
Now time to leave,
had to meet Fido at Barkbucks,
For their usual mid-morning dog scone,
and he really needed his double espresso.
If anything urgent were happening
videomail would come through on his Dogberry.

Fido was in great spirits as usual,
New fire hydrants installed on his block.
The good news was that Fido was able
to trade in his week of time-share for one on Earth.
Lulu and Rex had not been to Earth since their honeymoon,
that planet had some of the best smells, best hydrants in the Galaxy.
Didn’t’ hurt that that was where the first Barkbucks opened,
Must remember to reload his card before they leave.

The Dogberry is vibrating,
must be his boss checking on the report.
Back to the old grindstone.

April 11, 2009

NaPoWriMo # 10

Dreams From A Frozen Planet

I’m an Angry Water buffalo
Words spill out easily some days
He sends me deep-space transmissions
Hammered by the harshness of wind
discussion
Feeding the obsessions
My attention span is so short
Piles and piles of papers and junk
Some would like to have life all neat and tidy
Dead tired after
I stand at the sink alone in my thoughts,
I’m sitting in the middle of a construction zone
I dreamt of flying last night
I sit waiting for the Papers
Poet touch every hand
Words
Like a dry bone I feel very hard
I am frozen
Crushed down I will rise up
Push and pull of memories
I need to be me
The masters are peering out of the page
Journals
Come on down for some Karaoke
You still have some more time
I can’t seem to get to that pen
Ricochet between life’s curve balls
Celebrate through the rhythm and music
I can’t let of go the memories
For many years I was a missing person
My journals are a door to what I am thinking
Liberty, opportunity, hope
Piping hot strong coffee
I feel it will pour out
Things are not always as you plan them
Piles of papers overwhelm
Sometimes I seem to be trapped
On a planet far away,
I am frozen
I can’t let go of the memories
Poetry, is it
In my quiet dream?
The paper fell down from the window as a butterfly
The keys are clicking as the brain
Walks in rhyming rains
It’s true we may not be Shakespeare
Toast stacked four slices deep rests on the plate
The words are in my head
When I was 18 years old
What can I write on?
A person can go through his life
Look inside yourself
What are you working for?
Memories fill my head
Juggling many balls at once
Things are not always as you plan them.

April 10, 2009

NaPoWriMo # 9

Listen

God listens to me

when I’m happy,
when I’m sad,
when I’m alone,
when I’m desperate,
when I’m yelling,
when I’m crying,
when I’m joking,
when I’m complaining,
when I babble in moans and groans that word can’t express,
when I am running,
when I fail,
when I cheat,
when I lie,
when I love,
when mock,
when I am hungry,
God listens

Do I listen when God speaks?

Do I listen

in the rain,
in new beginnings,
in the heat,
in the morning,
in the evening,
in my dark hours,
in tragedy,
in birth,
in happiness,
in the hustle & bustle,
in exhaustion,
in pain,
in death,
in the stillness of dawn,
in slow times,
in chaos,
in the traffic,
in the silence.
God speaks

Am I speaking,
when I should be listening?
Am I silent
when I should be speaking?

God listens and God speaks.

April 9, 2009

NaPoWriMo # 8

Poem Factory

So many poems are needed,
Every April; I will open a poem factory.
I will build an assembly line and
I will hire out of work autoworkers,
to man the line.
Some will help pound out the rhythm;
others will run a conveyor belt,
a belt that carries all the words to the Wordsmiths.

I will hire out of work steel workers too.
These former steel workers will transfer their skills,
skills the poem factory needs and can use.
Alphabet letters will be heated to 2000 degrees,
mixed in with molten ideas and poured into molds.
These idea molds will be put on the conveyor belt.
Beatniks will inspect the molds as they go by,
then on to the Wordsmiths who are waiting.

The fun begins when the Wordsmiths start.
Pounding and clanging resound as they take the ideas from the line.
Sledgehammers, mallets, chisels, and all sorts of poem-making tools
will be used to form and shape ideas into words.
There’s some metaphor,
Clang, Clang, Clang
There goes some rhyme.
Clatter, Clatter, Clatter
Here comes free verse, with attitude.
Boom, Boom, Boom
End rhyme wants a place in the company.
Metal shavings fly everywhere,
as the Wordsmiths shape the ideas.

The conveyor belt screeches to a halt…
oh no, we forgot to pay our union dues.
The former steel & autoworkers are striking.

April 8, 2009

NaPoWriMo # 7

Out of Context

Clashing and smashing the garbage man came
and took cookies out of the oven.
Out of context in the wrong space the
garbage man keeps pace,
the pace car is in a race. Nonsense,
he tries to erase his place on the totem pole.

The baker gingerly drove the garbage truck
to the dump just as the timer went off.
He’s at a loss to why the flies are buzzing,
in his ear while the beep, beep of backing up
distracts from him parallel parking and
he can’t remember where he left his cookies.

Did he toss his cookies or lose them
or did he lose his marbles,
at least he still has his steely,
and what is the garbage man
doing in his the kitchen?

April 7, 2009

NaPoWriMo # 6

My Names

Jamie was my boyhood name.
In 6th grade I became James.
Being a good, masculine boy, I couldn’t
Take being called Jamie Summers, the Bionic woman..
A move to a new school, and new state and
I had a new name.

It was more.
Silly as it seems,
that was my Bar Mitzvah
It was my attempt to become a man.
I didn’t live with my father, so there were
no rites of passage,
no coming of age.
My new name was an attempt at growing up,
But it was only a name change.

James is a name that is serious
not overly common,
but I think it fits me,
Even if I miss Jamie, sometimes.

April 6, 2009

NaPoWriMo # 5 Thunderbird

The old homeless man dove into the pool.
Cool water soothed the summer night’s heat.
The moon reflected off the water,
the man saw all his life’s mistakes reflecting in the moon.

Why did he leave Martha for another,
his lover, the bottle?
His son he never knew; John grew up fatherless.
Why did he leave home at 16,
never speaking to his own father again,
Breaking his mother’s heart?

Liquor’s seductive voice called him,
and he always followed her,
always listened to her
She was his only counselor.

Sure, He’d cleaned up for a while,
Many times,
fooling no one but himself,
but he’d always went back to her, again
and again, and again

He could feel the Thunderbird wine
running through his head floating in the cool water.
He wondered if it was too late,
to late, for him to change,
probably,
he thought,
gazing up at the moon.

April 5, 2009

NaPoWriMo # 4

Haiku Poems

Sleeping Enemy

Conficker headache,
April fools not a big deal.
A big boom later?


Sleepy Eyes

Coffee maker drips,
Caffeine is calling to me.
Steamy, satisfies.

April 4, 2009

NaPoWriMo # 3: Perspectives

I am in an iron lung and someone just turned up the pressure.
I have a grand piano on my back and just past the 13th floor of a 20-story building.
I am a VW Bug pushing an 18-wheeler up the hills of San Francisco.
I am an ER waiting room with every chair filled and 20 people standing.
I am a pounding headache with no aspirin left in the bottle.
I am a Costco parking lot the day before Thanksgiving.

I am an ocean breeze on a warm summer day.
I am a 2-week vacation and just finished the last day of work.
I am a cold Diet Coke in a frosty glass.
I am a cat lying in a sunny picture window.
I am a quiet Saturday morning with everyone still asleep.
I am a cruise ship pulling away from the dock.


April 3, 2009

NaPoWriMo # 2: Egg Fiaso

After I woke up
Boiled eggs fell on me.
Can’t we fix this problem?
Don’t think it’s solved that easily,
Ever optimistic, I press on,
Fighting through the egg yokes and whites.
Gingerly I wade through my problem,
Hoping I don’t slip deeper into trouble.
I never thought eggs could cause me such strife,

Just eat these problems for breakfast.

Kellog’s would have been easier this morning,
Lucky Charms, bowl after bowl as a kid, even now.
Maybe some Frosted flakes would have been Great!

Never forget to let Captain Crunch soak in milk,
Otherwise it tears the roof of the mouth.
Put the cereal in perspective, the egg
Quagmire still tripped me up.
Ruined! I think not!
Search for solutions.
Try different options and
Understand that the same old
Vapid ways don’t cut it,
What would Ben Franklin do?
X marks the spot where my eggs landed.
Zealots are chasing me; they’ll never get my eggs!