Posts Tagged ‘poem’

I quietly opened the door and slowly peeked inside. Squinting through the narrow opened crevice, I could see a smoking cigarette, half eaten sandwich and cat licking an unwrapped bar of butter. The side of an Ice tea glass was still wet with dripping condensing cool ice cube chill. He had made a quick escape. Good, I would have the house to myself.

OC

 

 

Well, here I go, I’m breaking in the new computer.

I’m sure you’re way ahead of me.
There are many things I don’t know
when you say the words you say
Your unkindness can not help but show.

I really don’t know why I’m saying this
There is no amount of words I can explain
So shove this

Stop, stop, stop, STOP!

This ain’t my style! It my Mojo again! I done said diss all before!

Mojo back. That’s what you call it. When will I get my Mojo back? Have you got your Mojo back? You don’t have to put an accent to it. It’s just Mojo, plain and simple.

While you are talkin about no Mojo you can use “ain’t” a lot. You can drop your g’s in the i-n-g’s like, “I ain’t doin nothin about findin my Mojo”. You can do that because you ain’t got none. You don’t know no better. Oh, you will use double negatives, too.

Nobody knows where their Mojo goes. They just know that it’s gone. Away, far away to where you don’t know where. Just gone. You capitalize Mojo cause it’s a big deal. But you don’t know it til it’s gone. You may not know it when you got it. You just know it when it’s gone…..

I lost my Mojo maybe 6 months go, don’t know where, don’t know when, I just realized all of a sudden, I ain’t got none! Mojo that is. You feel sad, real sad and you walk slow with no Mojo. You walk slow, you talk slow and you feel real low with no Mojo. Mojo is a good thing to have. You want to keep it but you ain’t got no chance. It’s goin ta leave when it wants ta.

Mojo…back. Even a new computer don’t bring no Mojo back! Last time Mojo went to da beach!

DSS

To A Man

Posted: August 18, 2021 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, politics, writing
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To A Man

I have always wanted to run after life eagerly
But at this time in my life I am at peace.
Accepting the circumstances of my chance
and the results of my best laid plans.
Plans of best intentions, done with the most skillful of execution
but ending with questionable final outcome.
Gang aft agley *
I am now more fond of watching order from chaos.
After all, the entire Universe was built from it.
Of the largest galaxy to the least of the nests of a shivering mouse.
Both occasionally going awry
And both still doing quite well.
But I, Man, doomed with the ability of foreseeing
the billiard ball’s ricochet
Doing no better

Such is the life of John

  • Gang aft agley – From Robert Burn’s “To A Mouse

Food of Life

Posted: August 4, 2021 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, writing
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Here is one from 5 years ago. Perhaps means more now than then.

Food of Life

Here’s to you, sweet food of life
the struggle, the pain, the strife
blood fights won, blood fights lost
Rising from knees, at any cost
Here’s to you, you son of a bitch
One arm behind, rope’s half hitch
As hard as you tried, to tie the knot
you’re not as tough, as once thought
Thrown brown bottles and broken glass
I’ve dodged your throw and kicked your ass

OC

Again we are told Where.
The invisible where.
Searching for the mystic chords of memory
we were told binds us to the graves
of the brave, young and the innocent.
These thin chords made only of the light strings
of loud sounds and trailing smoke.
So easily absorbed, so quickly dispersed among the mist.
Chords so soon broken and forgotten.
Nothing done.
And still not touched
by the better angels of our nature.

E.

  • Italics – Phrases by Abe Lincoln from 150 years ago

E wrote this quite a few years ago, I forget which crazy unimaginable event inspired it then. But this last week brought it to the front again. I love quoted short phrases of Lincoln. He said so many words that need repeating over and over. “Better angels of our nature” is quoted often by historians. “mystic chords of memory” is just too beautiful to let stagnate. The amazing thing is that they both were extracted from Lincoln’s inaugural address. His speeches and letters just hypnotize me and only got better into his presidency. Although this inaugural speech was placating to the South, many of his words were inspirational.

Lincoln’s inaugural address was given as our nation was going into civil war. It would do all of us good to again read more of his other speeches. After what we all have stood by in shock and witnessed January 6th and what may happen in coming days, the inspiration of his words will be needed. His words of placating that day did not stop the civil war but Maybe if his other words were repeated enough, maybe if they are read just one more time, this madness will be stopped.

John

How Hard the Life

Posted: December 11, 2020 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, writing
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What have I to say?
I can say the sweet things, the accepted things
the heart warming, precious things.
Speak of love and the expected things.

But how hard the life?
The road of bumps and gravel dust,
of roadside weeds and ungated railroad crossings.
And always forgetting to look both ways.

The life of pebbles that break windshields
and jiggling of toilet handles to prevent a flood.
Watching dimly lit gas gauges on E
and quickly mown lawns with untrimmed edges.

Oh, to notice the perched hawk, saying hello to him and following his stare as I pass
Wanting to remember the first days of the new seasons
and to watch the Sun and the Moon
and to know when and where they will rise and how full it will be on my free Sunday.

How hard the life to forget these things?
How good the life?
To want these, to have hope of these.

I am as much as the beetle stranded on his back.
For even he struggles to right himself and live.
If he, then so will I.

DSS

 

This is the first poem that I posted on WordPress in September of 2013. But one that I wrote so many years ago. I think it is time to dust it off and give it a little light once again.

Life is a whim of several billion cells to be you for a while.  ~Author Unknown

To that quote I add this.

Several Billion Cells

As my cells group to make me who I am each day
I feed them, give them air, water, shelter and transportation
I am the vehicle for the DNA to satisfy their sexual urge to survive
I think I am in control
but really I am cursed to be at the whim of billions of cells.
And I think I am only as one, an island
As I care for my army of cells each day
I ignore their multitude and only think of me not we
I think I am coordinating my efforts
but I am only the result of their needs
Is it for my sanity or the need of the whole
that they allow me to think I have a soul?
Is that the false hope, the vapor that holds me together?

DSS

Appointments

Posted: October 17, 2020 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry
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The town has a well-groomed courthouse square
surrounded by uneven red brick streets.
Like most towns, 24 times a day,
the bell tower clock strikes the hour and old men check their watches,
As if they have places to go and appointments to keep.
But they sit on the green donated park benches
that have names engraved in brass.
They watch the fall leaves fall
and sit to feel the fall breeze against their faces.
Some whittle, some stuff their tobacco pipes
and some spit into throwaway cups.
And everyone knows the name of the town dog
that runs free, unchained but friendly,
that searches with wildly wagging tail,
sniffing at pant legs, pockets and shopping bags,
As the fall leaves burn and the smoke rises
And the old men only sit and whittle,
smoking their pipes and spitting into throwaway cups.
Nervously checking on appointments
that they have never made but they all will surely keep.

DSS

DSS wrote this in September 2013, there may be a couple of people who haven’t read it yet.


 

Riding the Comet

Posted: July 18, 2020 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, writing
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Riding on hot fires and flares of exploding stardirt
Melting into the ice of comets
orbiting through dark and deep.
brewed in sunheat,
Organized by chaos
Tempered by flame and cold
Lightly touched by an amino……I wiggled.

DSS

Comatose

Posted: February 13, 2020 in free verse, poem, poet, poetry, writing
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I have just been awakened from a 40 year sleep caused by a coma.  I am hearing talk of a thing named “twitter” that has an innocent little blue birdie mascot. This must be for children. I do remember that a  new thing called “arc net?” Or “internet?” would be making a few computer communications programs possible.

This must be a way for our young pre-school and elementary children to communicate using short words and incomplete sentences. Hope this is helping their communication skills and teaching them an early respect for social etiquette. When I unfortunately fell into coma, we parents were needing help in that area of child rearing. “Twitter”, such a cute children’s name. I hope my children and grandchildren had this available in their early elementary school years.

I can only imagine that I have so many other new exciting things yet to be told to me that have happened in my decades long absence.

Newly Arisen Naive 1980’s John