Poems in My Couch
Cornered in the couch, I find my seat,
Typing on my laptop to complete
The words for each poem that I find
In couch cushions now flipped over in my mind.
I discover traces of earlier word play,
Feel crumbs on my fingers from cheerios,
But the hopes of finding change today
Will keep me digging for those
That I haven’t come across yet.
Besides, there’s some sort of thrill
In tossing the cushions at will,
No matter what you get.
Voice
Your voice has strength in numbers.
Though it slumbers gaining power,
Your hour will come and the sum
Of your voices will redefine
The power of mine.
Orange Taste
She ate too many of those Doritos
So her fingers looked like Cheetos
Until she sucked off the orange stick
With a full mouth lick
So as to not waste
The orange taste.
The Couch-Line of Toys
An army of toys deploys it’s frontline
Into uncharted territories to find
The mysteries underneath the couch that lie
Out of the reach of my
Hand’s swipe for figurines and Duplos,
Unwilling to join those
We’ve already put away.
I give up, knowing that another day
I’ll lift the couch and find
The toys, now out of sight inside my mind.
If you’re trying to confuse me you’ve succeeded.
The words you write amuse me. You’ve repeated
An automatic prompt I cannot read
And so I type the text that hopefully will lead
To a page that leaves me feeling less perplexed
Than a page that’s popping up distorted text.
Until Morning Has Broken
Go back to bed sleepy head,
Stay till morning’s night is light
Then awake and start your day
And break the things I’ll take away.
Write something
No more waiting for inspiration to hit me
Time to throw a fit we
Can see as either positive word play
Or constipated delay
Of a poem that’s ending writers block
With some poetic squawk.
When We Write
Sometimes I skew my point of view
To write as I instead of you
But other times I choose to do
Without the I that you pursue.
Perhaps if you or I convey
The pronoun that I chose today
To be the speaker I’d relay
The words that you yourself would say.
Complacent Linger
She made eye contact then smiled and looked away again
I couldn’t help but notice that our eyes would meet up when
She’d raise her head and glance to me
To see if eyes would dance and be
Slowing down flirtatiously
To linger more complacently.
When Sleep Calls
I can hear sleep calling
Loudly in my head with a “go to bed”
That keeps me stalling
Since I can’t sleep through his speech.
He’s too noisy, so my slumber’s out of reach.
BonjourPoetry 