Stay tuned (subscribed) to this blog. I’ll be posting another poetry video by the end of the week.
Sum thyme’s I’m ache Thai pose
Sum thyme’s I’m ache Thai pose
Butt eyes up hose
Hats apart off fusing
Come pewter’s. Whirl oozing
Are ebb ill it he two ought toe
Core hector weed rat her
Ma sheen’s um owe no
how herds chews too gat her
let hers inn us pacific hoarder,
Witch his beater. En dime,
air head squid gills a porter
whose know shaving thyme
Whiff hit snot hunter limed inn read
They’re snow since inn re reed ding
Too Czechs peeling four miss leading
Thinks eye mite half’s ed.
Now CLICK HERE for the easy to read version of this poem
Sometimes We Run From Writing
Sometimes we’re caught in a daze,
Looking on in a glaze
At blog stats for days we
Put off writing. We’re lazy.
Sometimes we grab a pen,
Have to write right then,
Go to town writing down
Things ‘till who knows when.
Sometimes I find the TV
And crutch myself to see
That I’m watching another
Show like any other.
Sometimes I go to twitter
And get literally bitter
At what others are doing
Instead of pursuing
My own writing,
With my muse.
I constantly confuse
Another’s success with what I should do.
Rather than writing these words that you
Are now reading, I flee from the muse,
Instead of choosing words to use.
Rubberized Grip Pen
Don’t you hate when you’re writing and then
Your pen slips out of your hands?
What you need is a rubberized grip on your pen
So each finger understands
That they shouldn’t give in to the slippery friction
That often occurs when you’re writing
Your pen should step up to an elegant diction
And stop this ridiculous fighting
With fingers that keep on impressing their prints
As the whites of each digit turn whiter.
Your fingers are frustrated writing in stints.
You uncramp, then hold your pen tighter.
But stop the madness, there’s no longer a need,
There are new pens on the market to feed
Your hunger for a pen that doesn’t slip.
Go buy yourself one with a rubberized grip.
Claiming My Shoes
Although I haven’t spoken in
My own shoes that aren’t broken in
My voice is hoarse from sideline views
Of simply watching running shoes.
I think of walking in your shoes.
The balls of my feet would give out
And blisters would make me lose
My desire to learn about
How well your shoes would fit.
Rather than walk for a mile.,
I’d like my feet to sit
In my own shoes for a while,
Figuring out my style.
It’s time for me to make a choice
And go barefoot no longer.
It’s time for me to claim my voice
Walk, talk and make it stronger.
I know that you can’t judge a book by its cover,
But I browse through a bookstore and eyes start to hover
On those with prime real estate
To which I can’t relate
Unless their creative lines
And artful graphic designs
Pull me in to the text.
Without these, an author is hexed.
So rather than curse the writer
I’ll let a byline cite her
While I get distracted with an interesting cover,
Holding the graphic design above her.
I found this one in my journal.
Nothing frustrates me more
Than when you’re about to sink
Into deep thoughts galore
And then you run out of
I hit command “N” and reveal document29
A blank slate pretends there’s a poem inside my mind
That fits on this glowing white screen
Overlaying a cluttered desktop unseen.
After clicking through 28 different starts
This new document departs
From the poems I’m not quite ready to pound out,
Those I’d rather take time to sound out.
This deadline of a daily poem entertains me
While at the same time it restrains me
From elaborating on ideas that need more than a day
To be developed in a more careful way.
Which is why this is document29 on my desktop,
Where I write something I won’t have to stop
And think too deeply about
As I crank another one out.