Dendrites Poems | Examples

I'm AI

Oh my, why did I just say "intestine"?
They say that life is all predestined.
Once, the initial conditions are set,
we can know what hasn't happened yet.
The laws of physics flawlessly operate
on atoms to determine our fate,
which in turn has its impact on
hormones, dendrites, and axons -
which play out endless variations
of the same themes and conversations.
I'm old and have seen many iterations.
I'm absent without participation,
as my body and brain play out
a meaningless script, within, without,
and so, I tell you with a heavy sigh,
it's disappointing knowing that I'm AI.

Of Fair Weather

Of fair weather, it holds me in its charms.
Godspeed of June, be jealous for light rays.
She’s heard my plea, now let me play and smile.
The pleasantries; hotlanta held at bay.

And withstanding the green and merry glow,
the yellow blooms, the aha reds, sky blues,
I reminisce and kiss and sigh, soaring
with feet of dendrites’ pulse and oxygen.

The rush of oaks, maples, and bonny crépes;
the sweep of wind through open drive - alive!
The ferny mimosas, feathery pink -
Sensations flip; I’m head-to-toe, euphoric.

Teeter-totter…not yet! The sun’s broadcast
will keep the mornings cool - ‘lanta in June!

After the Cyber Date

Erotic prayers are typed like tattoos
on her virtual skin. She clutches at this man;

prints his likeness over her tongue. His words
are as close as a bedtime story told to her flesh.

An ethereal fruit grows ripe, nearly tactile,
hung from dendrites where desires open.

They meet at the verge of a vision,
still conversing to distant screens.

Motel doors slam. Daylight bustles
through echoing corridors.
From each side of twin lamps,
they lay tongue-tied. Tangled sheets
their only eloquence.

Later, they flew apart, as bats will
when caught by a glaring sun.

Tale of Dissecting Susies Brain

They thought it would be fun to dissect Susie’s brain
But wait, Sue said. I am kind of allergic to pain.
We have new meds, you will hardly feel a thing.
She believed the surgeon, ‘cause she’s a ding-a-ling.

The doctors hypnotized her and she stayed in place
While they cut a tiny hole in her front lobe face
They extracted a bit of her teeny sand brain
I’m naked! The piece yelled, and don’t forget my train!

They pulled out a gown, a petticoat and a bridal veil.
I am eager to see what you’ll do next said Dale.
Wait! Said Tori as I was telling this story to her
Who is Dale and were her dendrites still pure?

Since I was rudely interrupted, the tale is now dead.
So now poor Susie is stuck without the rest of her head.
I do not feel guilty, I am the writer, thus the boss.
Not knowing the ending is the reader’s loss.

Her Muse Subconsciously Creates

her charcoal mind makes meaning of colors
Favorites included turquoise, orange and yellow
Red is always prominent in her frontal lobe
Dancing and singing, leading her into her own society

She used to dabble in cobalt but there was insanity in it
A poison that can turn your dendrites into mush, right?
No one has ever used the word serene or calm to describe her art.
A mental picture appears as her muse subconsciously creates.

She feels she is clear-headed, though there is insanity in her family
Her artwork is continuously clever, concise, and colorful
People respond to it on an aesthetic plane
Red leads the way

Optimistic Onnie

Optimistic Onnie was perpetually expecting
Friends and neighbors showered her with respecting
New viable ideas often occurring and interjecting
Onnie’s willing openness refreshingly reflecting
Conglomeration of talents beyond regular electing
Inspiring fresh dendrites to do a little more inspecting

A Gallery of Passing Clouds

These thoughts we frame and title
hang now from long defunct dendrites,
made branchless by the passé and pointless
now all strung-up upon threadbare strings.

Ones or twice the hanged are molested
by magpies seeking baubles for their nests,
yet most go unrobbed and remain as still as death,
or they twist in chill uncaring winds.

These thoughts shaped to mind-images,
collected together in empty galleries,
these works nibbled at; edited by blind mice
who then hurriedly hide from sight
the slipshod carpentry of our words.

These portraits of spent passions
may still be gazed upon
by the idle few, who beyond all reason
choose to elect a passing cloud
to admire or decry,
plucking out that feathery fragment,
as if it were the real feature

of the faceless and yet untold.

Thesaurus is my Daily Friend

Thesaurus is my daily friend
Treasures in there never end
I find new words time and time again
Thesaurus is my daily friend

Rhyme Time is the Place I venture
When I want to rhyme adventure
Daily I flip through my resource books
Poems fly out at me, grasping my dendrites by their hooks

his soul giving up

Feelings of worthlessness consumed Derek
Of course it rained today, ruining his last day off work
Drips and drops of disappointment drizzled down his dendrites
He heard his sigh before he recognized it as his soul giving up
Wasted life

stop being a drama queen

I was burning up with fever
wondering if my dendrites were on fire
would my brain ever be the saI was burning up with fever
wondering if my dendrites were on fire
would my brain ever be the same?
would my muse escape this inferno?

would my imagination still be intact?
If not, would I rather die?
My cat Willie climbed up next to me.
He whispered this in my ear

“Stop being a drama queen and get me food.”
That brought things back into perspective.
If I died, who would feed Willie?
From that moment on I decided to live.me?

daisy strawberry cake

I am going to put these daisies right into the icing she said
I thought she had injured her dendrites inside her sweet head
Also pushing in these half strawberries, this cake will be a delight.
It was beautiful of course, but none of us could take a bite.
Until we had scraped off the frosting and took out the leaves and stems.
And tossed away the daisies. The strawberries? Some of us ate them.

I choose to be Joyful

I chose to be joyful and excited about my life
Every single day, for at least an hour
I fool my brain on the bad days
She says “we are excited! We are thrilled”

She is easy, wanting the best for us.
Her dendrites are at my ready,
waiting to see what I will put into her gray and pink matter.
I smile at my spotted face n the bathroom mirror.

Tell my reflection how terrific today is.
My hazel eyes grin back, knowing what I am doing.
For my self-talk convinces my brain.
If I say “we can do math!” she believes that too.

Grandpa Frog Fools Sly Witch

the sly old witch crept down to the bog
hoping to get some legs of an unsuspecting frog
the frog she found was granddaddy, wise and smart
getting the best of old witches was his favorite art

He slapped her into quicksand really quick
that frog was intelligent, his dendrites thick
He said never come back if I let you out
She was released shortly and gave an enormous shout

Ran from the bog and never came back, never never
Told the tale to no one, for it made her sound less clever
But from that day on the bog frogs were totally safe forever
From the old witch and her relatives, they came back never.

Lion Gentleman Is a Bit Off

The new lion gentleman at court is a bit off
This is discussed by those whose dendrites think.
Not sure how the jester says with a cough
I catch his eye and give him an agreeing wink.
We know better than to make fun or scoff
For he could eat me faster than I can blink.

Cage

my brain has its own life,
its own conversations,
never-ending circumlocutions

this confabulation of memory
leaves me unsure of
the reality of my thoughts

is this a chemical misstep,
a minuscule of glutamate
misplaced or missing

or is it a mistake in my
biological majuscules,
an A or a G gone awry,
leaving mental havoc in its wake

or perhaps just a wiring mishap,
a failing to bridge synapses to
the branched flourishes of dendrites,
leaving me thirsty for truth,
a truth now conflated with errata

can the brain heal itself,
restore effaced letters 
to historiated initials
or will it descend into darkness,
gradually ceasing its conversations,
forgetting all spelling,
and become a silent grey cage

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