Clean Teeth Craving
I crave the act of brushing my teeth
Sweeping a tooth brush around the wreath
Of projected bones locked in a tomb
Where flakes of food would like to loom.
Tag: everyday
Stuck in a Stare: Part 2
Stuck in a Stare: Part 2
Even if there’s something in me that doesn’t love a wall,
There’s something deep inside that wants to stare and stall,
To take a moment and reflect
Superficially dissect
With a visual incision,
Whatever’s in my vision.
It’s a calling that one has at a particular time and place
And although it makes no sense, you can erase
Your thoughts of the rest of the world
And let your body be hurled
Into some sort of stand-by mode
Released by a secret code
Or prematurely quite abruptly
If you choose to interrupt me.
I’ll hold nothing personal against you
If you steal my introverted view,
But why choose it so I lose it,
Why not choose to use it?
Why would you take my view just to take it,
Take my stare in your hands and break it?
People in our culture don’t get it
If a stare must continue, then let it.
There is no rule that says otherwise
So take a moment to finish with your eyes
Before returning to the tasks you have at hand,
By doing so, you’ll come to understand
Why someone sits and sticks inside a stare
And why you should let them have a moment there,
Enjoying this spectator sport
Even if it has to be cut short.
Throwing Out Memories
Throwing Out Memories
My kids are both big garbage fans
And like their favorite garbage men
They got to move the garbage cans.
Creating a remember-when
My kids took up the garbage cans that night.
And I’m sure this will become somewhat less cute
When they’re older and their chores become a fight
But tonight I let their smiles leave me mute.
Facebook Poem
Facebook Poem
I’ll see what you’ve been up to
In a place where time suspends,
Hung up on walls for me to view
What’s up with all my friends,
Friends I haven’t spoken too
For forever and a day
Or friends I’ve never met who
Just happen in to say
A comment on my wall, a link,
Perhaps a status update.
If I don’t stop and think,
At least I hesitate
Before I click to view your photos
And all your conversations.
Perhaps you did not know that those
Were public complications
That I just saw, or over heard
By clicking through the sprawls
Of information friends inferred
And wrote on others’ walls.
Started Reading Poems in my Basement
Hey Everyone… Well… I decided to start reading poems in my basement… watch the video.
Some sum up an um
Some sum up an um
With a silence or pause
while others might call it an
increasing cause
to insert an utterance
recited verbatim
as um, hmm, or uh since
they stuttered to say them.
*Watch me read this poem from my basement.
Me and My Spaghetti
My wife went out to our yard and
Allowed the children to play
While she plucked up from our garden
Ingredients for the day
Of cooking she had planned
With fresh tomatoes, peppers and spices.
Over a hot stove she would stand
Creating some tasty new vices
For me and our dinner guests to try.
These specially made combinations
Were very pleasing to the eye
When presented as calm sensations
But before then, it’s intense
With the chopping and sauce splatters
The mess becomes immense
Although it’s taste that truly matters.
I start to do some reasoning,
And decide to boil water.
While she’s overworked with seasoning
I’ll make the kitchen hotter.
I’m stirring but my boiled over pasta mocks
The way I try to help with cooking dinner
I followed the instructions on the box
But perhaps it’s too advanced for this beginner.
Soon everything’s laid out and ready.
The conversation starts with “who’s the cook?”
My answer’s simply “I made the spaghetti.”
Then my wife gives me that look.
Changing my Routine
Everyday when we go to drink our coffee,
My wife and I have our own assigned mugs
That we place in a consistent spot we
Can find before drinking our drugs.
Leading up to our liquid caffeine
In an effort to hinder delay.
We’ve formed a substantial routine
That keeps us on track day to day.
But sometimes my mug is taken
By a guest who’s come to our house.
I’ll feel robbed, like there was a break in,
And look over to my spouse
Who sees my lost and forlorn look.
The corners of my mouth won’t turn up
‘Cause my own guest went and took
A hold of my favorite cup.
This Parent Rocks
Here’s a warning to those who don’t know,
That as a parent I might go
Back and forth from side to side.
I’m standing still, but still I glide
Back and forth as if at sea,
It’s slowly been ingrained in me.
It started around 2 or 3
Each morning and habitually
Has transformed how I now relate
With conversations everyday.
Be warned when we communicate,
My stance is now a sway.
Scraping the Jelly Jar
In my refrigerator, I disperse
A line of bottles balancing inverted.
My experience and training is diverse
As seen by bottles ready to-be blurted.
My knife enters a jar ready to scrape
The scraps of jelly left along the sides,
As stained glass preserved in sugary shape
Or jammed along that curved lip, it resides.
My P B and J’s are growing thinner
But there’s always just enough for one more lunch
There might not be enough for a beginner,
But this expert scraper’s scraping out his hunch.
And when I’m finished, I’ll return the jar
Back to the fridge to find tomorrow’s knife,
I’ll angle, pry, and slowly raise the bar
Until someday it’s thrown out by my wife.
BonjourPoetry 