Orange juice and tooth paste
Brushing wasn’t any use
Since I broke the flavor truce
With orange juice.
Whether I like it or not
That spot in my mouth
Went south
When my tooth paste
Became time-waste
And aftertaste.
Category: Everyday Lenses
Airplane Drinks
You come down the aisle
in ala carte style.
methodically, you lock the cabinet on wheels
that steals my attention,
instinctive prevention.
It’s a survival-of-the-fittest thing
So that you bring
Me a drink.
Eyes look up
Longingly for a cup.
“notice me” they blink,
motioning for a drink.
“Fan-freakin’-tastic” I think.
Your serving everyone but me
I’m sitting here, hands free
Fingers on the traytable unfolded
Tracing an empty cup indention molded
Into the plastic,
“Fantastic.”
Then your lips move setting sail
To words that prevail
In the motion of your lips.
A precursor to my sips?
I couldn’t hear what you said
Over the hum of the airplane,
Panic is sent to the brain.
Confused, I sniff my armpits
I thought the lips I read had said
“Good that you don’t stink.”
Turns out she had said instead,
“Wouldn’t you like a drink?”
But since I was checking for armpit slime,
I didn’t respond in time
And I’m now left with out a drink
Sitting in fictitious stink.
Flat-Escalator Toy
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.
Pre-Meeting
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 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
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
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
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.
Taking down the Christmas tree
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
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.
BonjourPoetry 