Proper Care and Feeding of William White-Goods

 

No need for washing;
this is a self-care item.

Only consider drying
after a pub crawl,
and expect it to take
the better part of the next day.

Do not press –
trust me on this one.

Do not fold at the games,
for this one will gloat…
dear Lord, does he gloat!

Packing instructions:
See him to the door.
Hand him his hat.
Wish him the evening’s best.
Don’t answer the door
once he’s out on the stoop!

Feed him a line
and he’ll fill your ear
the night long (fair
warning, mate!).

 

* * * 

GloPoWriMo 2018, Day 25.

Poetic Asides, Day 25.

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Jazz Walk

 

So let me tell you what I heard
while I was out walking.  …okay, walking…

One friend a while back told me I didn’t
walk; I Bebopped.  Bebopped!

What does that mean?

He explained it by saying, “You Bebop
when you walk.”  Emphasized it
with a shrug.  So okay, I was Bebopping
when I heard,

“Then my mother says, ‘You’re not going
to wear that, are you?’”

“Oh god!  I hate that!”

“Right?  Like there’s no way—”

“No way you’re going to win—”

“Right?  Either way—”

“Either way—”

But then I was back on the melody;
the soloist had wrapped it up with
this incredibly high, extended note,
like ‘nobody’s as good as me!’

And I moved on from Bebop to Samba.

 

* * *

For GloPoWriMo 2018, Day 23.

Poetic Asides, Day 23.

The Fire

 

Gather, children, around the fire
Settle your hearts and join.
One-sided once those who did conspire,
we share both sides, a rightly minted coin.

Why should you these stories learn
and history recite?
That tyranny will no longer burn;
we unlearn “hate” and “fight.”

 

 

* * *

GloPoWriMo 2018, Day 23.

Posted to dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille Night.

Sun Site

 

You stood on the ridge.

Below you to the left
I-90, the measure
you pursued
out of the East, stretched
down along the Columbia.

A little ways down
you could see
the crossing
at Vantage.

To your right
you considered
Wenatchee, Snoqualmie, Mount Baker –
the wildernesses rising
and beyond, the rugged interior
of Canada’s British Columbia.

Looking back down the river
you knew the physical lay
of Oregon, California,
and improbable Nevada

– no sirens sung there.

Behind you lay only familiarity.

What had been home could
still be if you gave up this quest.

Climbing
down to your car, you knew
that the sun
for you,
rose this morning in the west.

* * *

GloPoWriMo 2018, Day 22.

 

Came a Rapping

 

“They heard! –they suspected! –they knew! –they were making a mockery of my horror!”

— Poe

 

House rattles
in sympathy.  The Honda passes
nearly scraping the street, windows bowing
out with each exaggerated bass blow.

Within, I feel the chill of the one who stilled
the heart, yet hears its beat beneath my seat.

Sit across from me and smile.

You suspect the truth!  A simple search
will reveal the hideous reality of my crime!
I shall be haunted, hunted, shunned before
all…

I confess!  I confess!  That music makes me crazy!

 

 

 

 

 

Fatal Love

 

You were set
up, doomed from the start.

It was inevitable that you would go.

Your friends,
your family –
you heard it from strangers,
from teachers,
passers by –
and it was true: you had
it all.

Good looks,
great bod,
the voice,
an attitude that entered
the room well in advance
of you.

Off you went
to The City, carrying
nothing more than a quick change
of clothes and your heart.

You weren’t there long before you fell
in love.

Despite the warning signs –

Bridge Out

Dead End

Slippery Surface

Uneven Surface

You – Should – Have – Bought – A – Squirrel!

This is a dark ride

– you fell into the deep, dark despairing
pit of love.

But it was bliss,
all that you ever hoped for,
the reason behind your existence.

We miss you.

We mourn you.

You fell in love with yourself, turned
into yourself…

and disappeared into yourself.

 

* * *

Okay, so here’s what happens when you practice alchemy.  I took the Poetic Asides prompt for today (danger poem) and blended it with the NaPoWriMo 2018 prompt (a Narcissus myth-based poem).  I’ll be cleaning up the laboratory for a few days…. 

City Rant

 

This city doesn’t exist; did it ever?

Was there ever a town, a gathering of pick-up sticks streets and horns and litter, that ever won so much accolade for being what it never was?  Top ten places in this conglomeration of attitudes – from melting pot to mosaic to patchwork quilt to splintered shards (that woman at the bottom of her pool creating the Mona Lisa out of her many credit cards how in the world did she get so many no wonder she went to jail!) eventually just another patch of dust where civilized people appeared to exist and then disappeared.  But was it a great place to raise children?  Were children raised, like corn or perhaps hops, which at least is a crop useful for creating beer but not meant to be used so damned freely as it is in IPAs – just my opinion in case anyone asks which seems less likely each month?  Was it as wonderful as people seem to remember?

Again I’m not
the one
to ask
but ask
I do
every so
often
because
I have
other
things
on my
mind….

 

GloPoWriMo 2018, Day 20.

Poetic Asides prompt — use the last line of one of your poems as the first line in a new one.  NaPoWriMo prompt — rebellious poem (I’m not sure how this is a rebellious poem, but, if I say it is, it is!).

A Bad Case of B.D.D.

 

Okay, so I come dragging my sorry self home, and I think, Hey, how cool would it be to rest my school-weary brain by writing some thoughtful, perhaps thought-provoking poetry?  I look around at my three most common sources of prompts on the internet.  The first one I glance at hooks me deep – a well set hook, and I’m being reeled in.  “…CHIJITSU, means LINGERING DAY, or LONG SPRING DAY….”  Well….  I teach 8th grade English, and it’s the standard assessment season here in education land.  Talk about lingering, long Spring days!  Talk about dragging, mind-numbing, torturous days.  Think about spending two hours this way – you read a script (poorly conceived, inanely written) verbatim and then walk around each and every student in your classroom as they stare at a laptop for eighty-five freaking minutes.  Your eyes have to be on them the entire time.  No email, no cell phone, no writing poetry, no sketching.  You have become a prison guard, watching the inmates finish their exams in somewhere between fifteen to twenty minutes and then laying their heads down to sleep.  No kidding; well before their allotted time was over, the entire class was dreaming video gaming, or mall prowling with their friends after school.

Testing days linger
Spring assessments stretch out
Sun’s shadow stops cold

 

 

 

Posted to dVerse for Haibun Monday.

 

 

The Strange Case

 

I have become
both Scylla and Charybdis.

Attempting to become
two realities,
I split asunder.

Torn.

Impeccable, hard
granite façade,
my usual exterior.

Hidden
within, I drew
a swirling
maelstrom –
my demon comes
forth… now unbidden.

Lies upon lies.

Remorse, does it suffice?

Beast that must die.
But which is which?
Which am I?

I am become
both Scylla and Charybdis.
Danger to all who navigate
my acquaintance.

Beast within.

Beast of my own making.

 

* * *

 

Posted to dVerse Poets Pub, Open Link Night.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 15.  Today’s prompt is to bring a human aspect to a villain.

Poetic Asides.  Today’s prompt is to write a metaphor poem.

With inspiration from Robert Louis Stevenson, I have attempted to address both prompts in a single, short narrative poem.

Continue the Quest

 

You and I do not find
that silent, conjuring
space in which to write.

The solitude,
the peace we seek
is mugged
by a soundtrack –
noise…

adjustment of flight
paths… air traffic controllers
compensate… an easterly flow
aloft… Frontier and Delta roaring
skyward…

dull music piped
from the café, blaring
across the patio that fronts
the water… music that keeps
everyone safe from their thoughts….

All of this overpowers
the love song of the Red Winged
Blackbird infatuated with his reflected
image in the tinted café windows.

It drowns out the squawk
of the Crow… or perhaps a Boat-tailed
Grackle… I can’t tell,
because the landscape crew just fired
up their instruments.

The sun warms.

A light breeze whispers
through the grasses –

or so I imagine, seeing
them sway.

 

 

GloPoWriMo 2018, Day 14.  I’ve left the trail of poetry prompts, opting to respond to my writing environment.