Tag: everyday

CAPTCHA

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.

Write something

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

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

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

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.

Warp Drive

Warp Drive

I feel like I’m going at warp drive
When the snow comes alive
Off the hood of my car.
And Though I’m not going very far,

I feel the rush of 35 miles per hour
Thanks to the 4 cylinder warp-drive power
That I’m steering on my little car trip,
Sliding sideways in my starship.

Ice Scraper

Ice Scraper

There’s a pause when I’m running late
And step outside to see the state
Of my vehicle covered in ice and snow
Because at that moment I know
That I’ll have to get under that frozen glaze
To where my ice scraper stays.

Untucked or tucked

Untucked or tucked

I quickly turned around, realizing that something wasn’t right.
Leaving through the door I put the sign back in my sight
So that I could examine it and understand why
All those women were giving me the eye.

I looked back and forth between the two signs,
Then down at my shirt thinking mine’s
Obviously not tucked in.

The crumpled bill diet.

The crumpled bill diet.

I just Passed a glassed trapper,
Containing a reflective wrapper
Framing a high fructose frustration
In my lack of a sugary sensation.

Looking through the force field of glass,
I punch in the code and pass
My dollar bill through the slot
But it’s not as flat as I thought

And the machine returns my dollar bill.
So I do some reverse origami but still
My single just won’t mingle with machines,
So a dollar less of candy fills my jeans.