Thank You to My Eyebrows
When a droplet of sweat gets stuck,
Woven into those hairy things
After trickling down my forehead,
I’m thankful I have eyebrows.
Each bushel of hair allows
The collection of sweat instead
Of coating eyeballs with sweat stings.
The eyebrowless are out of luck.
Screen Cave
Their eyes get frustrated at the screen
That’s glowing in the dark unseen
By those engulfed by it,
Deer-in-the-headlights-lit.
Someone outside the cave
Might wave and say hello,
But the cavemen stare at the glow
Of a shadow that they know.
Hump day
Hump Day
You know, middle of the week bump day
So that you’re not going too fast.
Then there’s one more day before the last
Before the weekend
That will soon send
Us into Monday,
Just two days before the next Hump Day.
I’m tired of Lent.
A week or so in and I’ve had it
I want coffee so bad it’s
Causing me to run hot water through the filter, plain.
Then pour from the coffee pot in vain
But I get nothing but hot water.
Somehow I’ve convinced my brain
That I’m drinking a pot or
That this is better than breaking down and having a cup,
Fearing Jesus’ll catch me and ask “what’s up”
So I drink this extremely watered down version
And hope for a spiritual submersion.
In Post-Running Steps
That awkward step off the treadmill
To the Earth standing still
Makes me applaud
My legs feeling odd.
Having energy to spare
As they float through the air,
I breathe in and out accomplishment
That’s hidden underneath my scent.
Unspoken Thoughts
Your voice is constrained inside a sound
That you can’t wrap your head around,
Lest your voice would be violently
Struggling to speak silently,
Picking your words like ripe fruit,
Hoping speech would follow suit.
“all pants, half off”
It seemed well intentioned
But I was out of sorts
Since nobody had mentioned
those pants were really shorts.
Free Verse Attempt: take one
Like magnets, words find meter
Something that will repeat or
Some sonic something that’s totally new
Without a rhyming word
In view.
Since my rhyming tendancies
Defending these
Words won’t give up yet,
Rhyming’s what I get.
The Interlines
In poetry, you should read the negative space,
Where the trace of the poet’s thoughts are gifted.
Intertwined in lines of lace,
A beautiful holy space,
Where love and loss is sifted.
Coffee Prep
I woke up this morning warning myself I wasn’t ready.
I needed more sleep before I could steady
The coffee spoon without spilling
Grounds that were unwilling
To fill the filter without me.
I had to do it apparently,
So of course, I spilled grounds across the counter top
On my typical kitchen coffee stop.
BonjourPoetry 