Flat-Escalator Toy
Absolutely I’ll ride the moving walk-way
Walk-on and sway
To get some sort of joy
Like a little boy
on an escalator toy
that doesn’t rise,
but smiles my eyes.
Absolutely I’ll smile
While you walk slower than me standing
Until I trip getting off and my landing
Catches your eye
While I,
Smile.
Wrote this this morning before a meeting, still sleepy eyed and staring at a blue projector screen.
Pre-meeting
Blue reflections on a glass that pass refracted,
Barley reflected to the edges,
Meet my coffee-less eyes.
I take a sip to drip slurps of coffee
As clanks of silver slivered spoons
Soon fill the room of silence,
Violence to rest it starts in the form of talking,
Breaking respite, stalking the quiet
With a “good morning” riot.
Tweet Tracks Disappearing
Tweet tracks in sand disappearing
In people prints veering
around miscellaneous debris
From a sea that sighed wide
In a wet tide that tried
To capture what was waste to me.
Flying to Miami
We’re sitting in vibrating chairs
Each surrounded by blank stares
Of people with sudoku puzzles and books
Occasionally taking second looks
At the landscape outside
Of our airplane ride.
I’m looking past someone repeating
The motion of peanut eating
To jagged cotton mountains
Or the base of foaming fountains
Frozen in time that goes on forever
In a white sunlit endeavor
To make me mention
That God grabbed my attention.
Time Prompt
It’s weird writing to a timer.
Perhaps it’s easier to rhyme or
look past the things I’ve written
But I think that I’ll get bitten
By the buzz to stop.
I’ll drop the ball
watching everything fall
to pieces on the ground
when the sirens sound.
Ten minutes and counting
surmounting a greater amounting
of words piled into the page.
Soon the previously concealed
will be revealed
through a prompt uncovered in time
only limited in rhyme.
Click here to try writing a poem on a timer prompt. I recommend having it eat your words.
Facebook Happy Birthday
Absolutely nothing that I’m about to say
Is going to top the others who consistently relay
A “Happy Birthday” message with a personal aside
But with this cut-and-pasted poem, I can say I’ve tried.
Upside Down and Writing
If I flipped upside down again
I’d simply scratch my head and then
This writer’s block
Would start to talk,
If I were a ballpoint pen.
Taking down the Christmas tree
The most effective way to see
The needles flinging off the tree
Would simply be to set it free
From living room captivity.
Stripped of all of its décor,
We’ll try to get it out the door
Leaving memories once more,
As treeless needles on the floor.
I have dry skin
Our microfiber tablecloth is like the devil to me.
I’m the sinner to who absolutely has to see
Why my mind’s set to a frequency
That desperately screams out to me,
Screeching “Don’t touch that!”
But never the less in no time flat
I’m gripping the deadly sheet,
My fingers are forced to meet
The elegant cloth turned into rags
Caught in dry-fingered snags
That act like chalkboard fingernails.
The fabric cringes me and prevails.
My Little Fixer-Upper
I am constantly running out of space
In this absurdly small little place
I call my own. Clearly, I’m outgrowing
This mobile home. I’m showing
Signs that I need to get moving,
But with laziness improving
This fixer-upper’s frequently
Content with what you see.
BonjourPoetry 