Tag: poetry

Newsprint Vs. The iPhone

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The engineer and iPhone both concurred
Newsprint’s slowly picking up the slack
There’s an application in the printed word,
Uniquely, it can turn your fingers black.

This inky application, developers can’t copy
And that’s not the only Ap that’s prized in pages
For us who think the data plan’s a lot we
Search outside the screen to spend our wages.

Buying into the wrapping application for vases,
For 3D Art we paste Paper Mache.
The competition that the iPhone faces
keeps expanding applications every day.

Certainly iPhones are falling behind
Nostalgia in newsprint technology
Advanced engineers have tried but can’t find
An Ap that’s as good for canary pee.

Encouraging Ventriloquism

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All of our children are sleeping.
while we’re stubbing our toes,
biting our fists, quickly creeping
around these furniture foes

That make me into a ventriloquist
Inflicted with a loud-noised injury.
I know that I can quietly resist,
But charming children wake to scream for me.

When Memories Stay In-Line

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construction

Circumventing orange cones
Like my feet are on tracks
hearing concrete tones,
as cars stand in stacks

Of traffic lined up on Sixteen Mile.
Driving decisions had been relented
By a detour keeping you, while
I skated by on the newly cemented

Road that was untainted
By tire track marrings
And yellow lines painted,
Too early for tarrings,

This smooth surface gliding
Underneath my wheels.
My memory’s sliding
From how it feels,

But I remember moments of victory
The hockey stopping, curb jumping times that we
Skated ‘cause skating could let us see,
A physical form in complacency.

Turn-Around Time

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IMG_0031

There are new fangled cameras with LCD Click-sures
instantly carrying clout
that your memory’s captured the digital pictures,
In zeros and ones, they’ve turned out.

But remember the old film cameras and printed photos
Where you didn’t know what was good.
You’d take a picture and have to suppose
They’d turn out, or hoped they would.

It could be months or even years before you’d venture to the store
To search through alphabetic bins for the film turned in before
Then you’d stumble on old photos to your ultimate delight
finding last years memories that had been out of sight.

Nowadays it’s instant that your friends can take a look
At ridiculous expressions that you bagged
In the shooting spree of friendly-fire photos that you took
And posted to subsequently be tagged.

Reader’s Interaction

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I’m sitting on my front porch with the ease
Of a flag-rippling wind-chiming breeze
Because I was exhausted in my bed
Writing poem after poem in my head.

Poem after poem that I’d write you,
The reader who looks for a cue to
Take ownership inside my thought
and dance with the words I’ve brought.

Depressed Lawn

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Imprint of Matthias in the lawn.

I came home yesterday to find my lawn depressed
With an indent of my child, it seems to have regressed
To a time when that small infant took a nap out in the shade
Staring up at pinecones while the other kids had played.

Stepping over sweet Matthias and crashing near his head
They wheel’d their wagons, trucks and cars across his bed.
He’s in that adorably cute, but not too clingy phase
Where we can set him down and know he stays.

Unless he’s on a blanket being dragged somewhere
And that only happens once-ish, and then there
He stays while Gianna’s being punished for kid-dragging
And then changed into a diaper that’s not sagging.

All the while my oldest drives his little pickup truck
Through our basil and our peppers before he gets it stuck
caged between tomatoes, he parks against the wall
I pause conversing with a friend so that I can call

out “Hey Duncan, don’t drive into the garden.”
I take a lunch-break-look around the yard and
add “don’t kill the plants, let the bugs eat–em.,
After all, if it weren’t for us, who’d feed-em.”

All of this in a long day lunch break passed
while underneath my blanket had been cast
A grass angel image that will quickly fade
Left in recollection and poetic form relayed.

Potential-Rain Delay

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It was supposed to rain, and it still may,
Not just rain, but thunderstorms and stuff.
I reasoned that I couldn’t mow today
For fear that clouds had filled enough.

I don’t want rain dripping from the sky
Leaking on me as I mow the lawn.
I’d check to see cloud after cloud go by
But ominously clouds were never gone.

I nodded with a friend who felt the same,
“You can’t mow the lawn in weather like this,
What would you do if the rain came?”
No, you have to plan your mower to miss

The down pour or else you’d have to stop,
And then put the lawnmower away.
Your half mowed lawn of weedy crop,
Looking worse than yesterday.

Why would I mow the lawn
If it wouldn’t do any good?
I’d rather have my weeds grow on
Than have my lawn misunderstood.

Count to Twelve

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Let me take a moment and ignore you
Then together we’ll regroup and have a break.
If we’re talking, I can’t guarantee to
Keep on clearly counting sans mistake.

Lets allow conversations to lull
In an instance before we both delve
Into deeper conversations full
Of caffeine after I count to twelve.

Have I done Eight? ‘Cause if I’m off we
Must extend the lull a little longer.
I won’t belate for fear of weakened coffee
But I’ll scoop another scoop and make it stronger.

Digital Photo Etiquette

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When digital cameras were still an idea in the womb
You could take a picture of someone and not show the room.
But that era is over, the etiquette’s made,
Right after your photos are taken, they must be played.

We’ll actively ignore my baby
Adorably smiling and kicking.
To see if you’ll stop and play me
The smiles you caught with your clicking.

I get it, but don’t understand
Why we’re leaving the physical version
So we can instead see the two inches spanned
In a digital image emersion.

Spiritual Communion

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I could stare at your face forever,
In the Eucharist my pleasure
See you looking back at me with love.

Your smile is upon me
This mystery can be
All that nothing I think of.

My mind is blank inside you
Though it wanders where it’s tried to
It always wanders back upon your gaze.

I’m sanctified in mystery
From complicated history
To undisputed love where Jesus Stays.

I meditate to taste of you, and feel you in my mind upon my tongue
Swallowing the grace of you, This spiritual place anew,
With songs I never knew the angels sung.