Best Philosophyblue Poems
Was sitting today
at my computer.
as greatly learning
from a tutor.
So much
fun on facebook.
quite time
in my little
computer nook.
I was commenting
with some
silly friends.
had to stop and wipe
my glasses lens.
I clicked
my mouse
again and again
gazed at that
dirty sereen.
It was displaying
slanted words but
ever so bright and
so keen.
Up popped
a link to
another sight
It viewed a huge
gray key.
old friends appeared
that had long ago
passed away that
I though left me.
There's my grandmaw
smiling on her profile
page.
She grinning big as if on
a theater stage.
Big bold
letters in
dark blue and white.
I nearly fell of
my chair in
a fright.
It said in giant letters
instead of FACEBOOK
It blazed bright blue of
PASTLOOKBOOK
Well I scratched
my head
as I thought they
all were past and
dead.
Clicked my mouse
and there he was
Dad photos fishing
with Uncle Ned.
This was such a shock
cause he died when
the lawn mower hit him
five years ago
in the head with a rock.
Well this was something
to see
Well I dropped
to pray on one knee.
If this is true
my scruples
I'd lost or thew.
Then I awoke
in my computer chair
with my messed up
gray shiney hair.
My pup licked my
hand.
FACEBOOK words
to see again a welcome
sight so grand.
So If you click your
mouse just one to many times
beware of a ghostly view,
Past friends and realatives
could be waiting to visit with you.
On PASTLOOKBOOK
that strange web site,
Boooooooo.
Linda Terrell
November 2009
My motto as an artist and poet
When CREATIVITY is the lock.
It is sometimes within as solid
as a rock.
IMAGINATION is the only key.
to unlock it ever so freely.
One with out the other,
one can go no further.
I refuse to think of these days as melancholy.
The “s” has been missing on my keyboard for about a year now,
and in that year I have felt great pleasure, surmounted
great obstacles, and have wrangled
and tormented over false outcomes;
the delusory greener grass.
Yet these are the days I am to discover all of this.
I am to walk out of the cage and stand back, turning around to gaze
at the various compartments of my Blue Ribbon Wrangle Box:
The hinges, pulleys, ropes, splices,
bevels, strapping, horns, buzzers, clocks, and radios
that have encumbered and ran its chaotic push towards
A function built and conceived by man.
I am outside of it now
And I dare threaten to call these days
melancholy just because I miss all my meaningless gauges.
At yet I still stand at the doorstep,
in the silent light where Luminosity begins,
the saddest place of all. It's here
that I find attainment in one direction and attachment in the other.
My Blue Ribbon Wrangle Box haloes
from the white glow of a hidden crescent moon.
That's Satori
A blue ocean is satori
A blue sky is satori
a blue cherubim is satori
a blue sapphire is satori
Ablue' the baby is satori
A blue color is satori!
By Susan J. Mills