Ship it.

If a thought comes to you,
But it’s kept out of view
In a mental drawer
Then what’s it for?

If it’s kept next to the clean fuzzy socks
And never unlocks itself to be received
Then who is deceived.

Male Voices

Penetrating the air,
We’re brought into battle
The rattle of rebel voices,
Counter cultural choices
To spend time in praise
Raising arms that conquer the status quo
Through victory that brothers know.

Barking Sales

“Here have my card” he said
So I said thanks instead
Of asking why I needed
This book mark,
This personal credential bark
That he weeded
Into the stacks
Of cards my memory lacks.

I like having cards of those I know
To potentially have a relationship grow
But this bark of attention’s a paper waste
Leaving a memory of poor taste.

Convention Center Pricing

There’s no food that’s cheap
So inside I hear a peep
From the office saying
Remember that we’re paying.

I try some budget slicing
But convention center pricing
Raises eyebrows in my head
That ask if I need to be fed.

The Ritual of Getting in My Car.

I open my car door and find a swirl of snow
Slow mo-ing in my mind
As it floats methodically downward to my seat.
I grab the scraper and brush off the windows
Before the snow goes
Up against my pants to complete
the melting that started
when it parted with the outside of my car.

Poem-a-day and tired.

Nothing else to write
It’s time to write a haiku
This will have to do.

I received a couple requests to add an email subscription option.  If you want poetry to be delivered to your inbox, be sure and click the link on the lower right of this page where it says email subscription.  I still have the rss option up on the upper right if you use something like a google reader.

Thanks to all of you who’ve been reading.  You make me smile.

Carry a poem.

I always carry a poem with me
But sometimes it’s hard to see
Since lines are spread on paper scraps
Or locked inside my finger taps
Impatiently waiting for translation
Of an idea into creation
Of a poem I’ll read to you
So you can have one too.

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.

I started a new blog over at www.poetechie.com. Go check it out if your interested in discussing poetry and where it fits in with digital technology.  I’m always interested in people’s thoughts, so let me know what you think.