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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I had been in a deep dream, searching for a lost puppy When the clanging alarm startled me to reality The clear images fading like a burning photograph Then, a desperate sense of unrecoverable loss Lying on a couch, the beacon clock, clicking my heartbeat With no desire in facing the awaiting mundane day My aching back, reminds me of a night of stooped typing And my dry mouth, of the many vodka inspirations Opening my eyes, the room is semi aglow with dawn Turning, I meet the scrutinizing eyes of porcelain frogs Sliding roughly to a difficult sitting arrangement Reaching for a bottle of room temperature water My tongue dampened, I lean back to remember the reason Why did I need to be shaken from my unconscious state? Work, yes, that essential means to maintain my existence Would I be teaching high school mathematics, English, or science? Rising to my feet and in route the coffee maker Now noticing the radio playing in the milieu Earthquake, fire, shootings, political scandal, and weather The essentials for the complex human news equation Leaning over a large bed, I kiss my sleeping wife's brow Patting the dog’s head, continuing to the master’s bath Later, while adjusting my suspenders, my wife reminds Lunch is in the refrigerator, don’t forget the trash On the short commute, through a cold northwest drizzling rain I evaluate my current role as middle aged Spending each day killing time, while crawling toward the finish In my castle of souvenirs and faded memories Mowing an endless lawn and shoveling tons of compost The whisper of worry in my ears, about debt and health Watching my wife grow old and pets slowly age until death I laugh, at what seems like, the pure senselessness of it all During my day, I continue to ponder while teaching Looking into the young faces of my eager students They are filled with the exciting beginning of new lives Far from comprehending the classic middle aged crisis In the evening, within the walls of my cozy cave The television news professing the Armageddon My loving wife sleeping off dinner in her recliner I freshen my drink and am silently thankful for her © Copyrights G. Jones 2008
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