The Creative Bug
“I’m striving for mediocrity” she answers.
“I fly to the light bulb, but can’t get in.
Me and the others are the dancers
They never let in.”
That bug strives to be mediocre.
She falls to the ground after hitting
The light bulb, I poke her,
Asking her why she’s just sitting
On the ground
To be found
Still.
Still, she is mine.
And everything we do screams
“We’re doing fine”
Without chasing our dreams.
A Generic, Cut-and-Pasted Happy Birthday
I know you or I don’t know you, but I guess either way
I’ll cut and paste a message of what I’d like to say.
So happy birthday so-and-so, enjoy this rhymed relay
From bonjourpoetry dot com and have a bless-ed day.
This is something I wrote to have something to write on facebook walls for people’s birthdays.
Impatiently Baking Bread
17 seconds that make me wait instead
of pulling out the freshly baking bread
that looks as ready as when the timer beeps
but someone long before me insists that it keeps
on baking until the timer finally beeps
and leaves me with a 40 minute loaf of bread
I wish was 39, 43 instead.
I’ll be posting a new poem later today. In the meantime….
Here’s some non poetic catholic pickup lines that didn’t make the cut for the catholic pickup line poem, but might be fun to read.
List of rejected lines.
Didn’t I see you in the papist picture of the day?
Girl, you make me go to confession.
You must be my sign from God.
What’s your favorite disease?
My dream car is a fifteen passenger van.
Want to start a domestic church?
Do you think the pope does marriages?
You want to hold hands during the Our father?
Want to betray me on the lips?
I guess I can stop looking for my vocation.
Girl to Guy rejected line
Dude you’re built like Jesus, I should eat you. (This was my favorite of the bunch)
Click to read the original poem.
After writing this poem, I found this link to catholic Pickup lines on facebook. A good resource if my poetic suggestions fall short.
A Quick Clothing Check as We Sit, Stand, and Kneel.
Like a good catholic, I sit in the back with
My eyes on the whole congregation.
We modesty check for an odd to see speck
Of skin that distracts concentration.
As sure as I am there’s the sign of the cross,
There are rows of people that check for the loss
Of backsided coverage from clothing scrunched up
Or a skirt that gets straightened from being bunched up.
There’s that guy with his pants that he lifts past his belly
By ringing his thumb round his belt, you can tell he
Has done this for ages, this unsubtle move.
I call it a prayer, this pantaloon groove.
Some may pick wedgies out from their behind,
While I sit behind out of sight out of mind
Some do a shirt-flap and let their shirt hover
Before landing in for a straightened, butt cover.
Sometimes it is simply the swipe of the hand
A motion that all of us now understand
Results from the praise that our bodies reveal,
A quick clothing check as we sit, stand and kneel.
Confession
On a walking pilgrimage, we washed our clothes by hand
I hurried through the process, but I came to understand
I was cleaning all my clothes so that they didn’t smell,
But I should have cleaned for purity as well.
I wanted to get out the dirt and the grime
Scrubbing away as quickly as I could,
But there was a woman there who would take her time
To clean her clothes the way I knew I should.
Undoubtedly I needed to get the stains out.
That wasn’t questioned in my mind,
The question came when I began to doubt
The cleanliness of clean parts I would find.
The woman cleaned her clothes like I should clean my soul
Letting purity and cleanliness replace
An apathetic nature that spins out of control
choosing “good enough,” instead of gifted grace.
I based this poem on a story Fr. Dave Pivonka told during an episode of Franciscan University Presents. He writes more on his pilgrimage experience in his book, Hiking the Camino.
Here, Smell This
I’ll never wish that I had
More of that nasal embrace
When “Wow this smells bad”
Precedes an object in my face.
I’d prefer to simply ignore it
Rather than have you deplore it.
Can I live my life in doubt
Of the horrible smell you point out?
One hundred percent of people mentioned in statistics are not numbers.
I wouldn’t put total reliance
Into statistical science.
Behind the numbers lie
People who slumber by
With out knowing where they fall
In a graph or a spread sheet.
When numbers start to sprawl,
Where do stats and people meet?
Catholic Pickup Lines
Didn’t I see you at World Youth Day?
How about you, me, and a Passion Play?
I always kiss on the lips at the sign of peace.
After shaking hands, we’re supposed to release?
I think the iris’s in your eyes,
Remind me of the little flower.
It only took me 22 tries
Before I found your holy hour.
I need a partner for my marriage prep class,
And since you distract me at mass,
We could get married and stop stalling?
Was my message on your phone your calling?
Wanna call it the March for Wife,
Start a family and be pro-life?
Should I genuflect or stand in line,
‘Cause girl, you look absolutely divine.
Do you have the gift of interpretation?
Or can I whisper sweet nothings in your ear?
Lets start a up a good conversation
Holding theology of your body near.
Was I knocked out by your beauty or slain in the spirit?
I hear you’ve got the gift of tongues, want to share?
I didn’t know my pilgrimage stopped here it’s
Great though to be stuck inside your stare.
We’ll go out after a decade or two
But lets not rush, lets pray this moment lingers.
I forgot my rosary, can I share with you?
You forgot yours? Lets use my fingers.
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Bacon
What’s better than makin’
up some more bacon,
That’s up for the takin’
When no one has stake in
The slow cookin’ bacon.
‘Cause inside the kitchen,
Those who don’t pitch in
Come in for snitchin’
And though this might be stressing
There’s no real point in guessing
The culprits aren’t confessing
Who’s stealing bacon blessing.
BonjourPoetry 