Drop Off Poems

My Mind

(“I of the Beholder”, 2014, original pen and ink)

My Mind

My mind is a labyrinth
Organic with its tendrils 
Flowing like a stream
Following every which-way gravity takes
Clearly without a mind of its own!

It leads me through dark places
And into the light
Yet it never lingers
As any rise in my emotion
Just causes it drop off a cliff

And then I am soaring again
Or plunging as the case may be
It matters not if it is day or night
Above or below ground, in fact 
I’m not sure anything matters on its twisted way

But I can’t fault this fickle friend
It doesn’t really mean me harm
As it pushes my buttons and pulls my chain 
I know, like an exuberant child or pup,
It just wants to show me what it sees with love.

(9/6/25)

Dough Dash

With my computer in hand, out the door I dash....
To other people's doors for cash

Picking up to drop off,
Then swiftly to the next stop

Dashing, Grubhubbing, and Ubering galore,
In a sputtering economy, lent-filled pockets I really abhor

Rapacious eyes peruse desktops, tablets, and smartphones for eye-catching menus
Man's incessant search for comfort and convenience hungrily continues

Picking up to drop off,
Then swiftly to the next stop 

Dashing, dashing past drive-thrus and beyond dining rooms
Now a fresh and different energy looms

A mad dash for cash

Dough dashing...
Dashing for MO'
So, out my door 
I GO

To contactless drop-offs and no eye contact, all spawned from a digital transaction
Distant, yet so close, is this human interaction

A mad dash for cash 

Dough dashing...
Dashing for MO'
So, out my door
I GO

When thoughts go dark

In my mind skies can be blue
thoughts can swirl and whirl
and take an unexpected turn
feeling like I've consumed a witch's brew

Just when I think there'll be no end
I find the perfect spot under the sun
to drop off what feels like a megaton
and soak in that sunshine before I call a friend



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

The Users

She had enough of it. Too many people in the town treat her as if she is a house elf or below dirt.  The brown eye girl feels like they are trying to push her to the limits causing her more damage. Those people keep trying her patience to where she’ll have a break down of some kind or just off on someone. The week had been tough enough on her stress levels and anxiety with her laptop breaking,ear buds being ran over and to top it off being told off as if she was a small child. What will it take for them to see the brown eye girl for who she is? It’s almost as if no matter what she does to prove herself to them all they see is what the vision they have of her.  To them all she is; is her down falls what she can’t do.  Asking the brown eye girl to do things for them to drop off things for them or do this job or that job. Maybe it’s time for the brown eye girl should just stay away from the users.

Jane-By-Pebble-Beach: -2-

Clint's an iffy fellow, tis prestige vs the ordinaire, my dear plain Jane--hmm, partially accommodating. 

Methinks you're a drop-off, my dear, picture a car dropping you off curbside while he goes looking for a fictitious parking space, but a gentleman he is uses the factual context of the 11th hour--OPS you to HAIL me.

I gather Mr. Eastwood was gifted said ticket, ... that I am guessing you so happened to be in pysical possession.

How did you know that? That would pleasure him of not being a CAD!

I forgot that you're like some madda carrie.

Mother who? You mean that Mother Teresa (rising popularity 1979).

No, that German one.

A German Mother Teresa? Was she young Adolph's school teacher.

Oh forget it! [LATER: she reveals "Mata Hari']" 

Did he you call you and tell you, or are you playing Holmes?

Doc--tor 'tis Clint's gift?

Yes, but-- ... --wait ... it must be somebody of importance ... yes, but who?

 Hehehe! It would be very rich for me, if I saw a glimpse of your face at this relevant juncture-------was I your suggested choice? 


 ... Yes, Oh my? You're scary!

Shared Torch Lake

I rock in this outdoor cheap chair
Its cushion foam like ice cream
Half-eaten by the winter mice in storage
I don’t mind

Don’t need a full seat to see before me

The drop off on Torch Lake
Its fine line drawn between sky and space
So turquoise on one side black and blue on the other
Top to bottomless cliff
A mere step to reach one side from the other

If I dare walk on water

Wind carves the lake into slices of pie
Pulpy blueberry squeezes out the sides

Dragonflies bob in lilac updrafts
Broke open moments ago from their crawling lakeshore nymphs
Split open on the rocks

Their brittle wings snap in the wind
Snacks uncrinkling to a Kingfisher’s snatches

Fate born that way is hard to take
Of course many of these spindles escape to the flowers and meadows
But not all

I stand up

Boy to Dad to Grandpa

When did this happen? To survive this long?
To still hunger these many wonders?
To grow to know I am no more important

Then this oozing lake
Divided
And Memorial Day wind colliding with dragonflies and Kingfishers.

Overcoming mistakes

Let your tears roll free
 and the stress drop off shoulders 
weight of the world lifted

my neon ghost

October 28th, 1965
Slumber party
Six preteen girls
They are telling ghost stories

They have tales of horror to share
No one will be sleeping tonight
I see a neon ghost in the corner
He puts his fingers in front of his lips
To shush me

I do not feel terrified
I feel intrigued, and excited
We discuss my future plans
After the others finally drop off to sleep


He might have been my guardian angel
I am unsure
All I know is,
That he made me feel safe and respected

Although I have never seen him again
I will never forget him
He is my hero
Encouraging me to visualize my future

TIME DO THE LORDS WILL

don't  just by
here's why
its cold time for soup bowl
its winter time keep this in mind
 drop off a coat
never be meat of goal
do whats  whats best
you  will not regret
reaach out don't set still
give
DO THE LORDS WILL

Sea Change

Its quest is over.
Life's. Wholesome-faced.
At this drop off point, a world's
Sea-washed. Effaced.

Shackled by which search, a slave's
Profitless, for coin
Proved it, toward more and more
Becoming joy-rich
Now breathing freer, will ditch
What for too long chafed
Of self deceit, to the winds.
Sharpest thought-cleansing

Quest

Quiet like the sea that winks at you with caution
Until waves wash your balance in a soaking totter
Exertion in a rooted footing to snatch breaths of salty air
Steadiness holding/healing a body from the drop off of loss
To watch the setting sun, its lilt and tow of memory
                                              careening beneath waves

It's Raining Leaves

it’s raining leaves - hs

some call it the fall
keats wrote of it as autumn
but he was english
maybe english trees
keep their leaves throughout the year
saving lots of work
as the leaves turn red
they are beautiful of course
but then they drop off
cleared them yesterday
but after a windy night
more have fluttered down
yet another pile to sweep
it’s enough to make me weep

8th May 2023
Haiku Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Joanna Daniel

School and Covid 1-7

COVID
Everything I built crumbles.
My job goes under
My friends disband
Some of them drop off the face of the earth
Others dealing with trauma for the first time
Nobody talks to me now but the boy

I move in with the boy
Our relationship is strong
My parents don't like him
I like him

They don't like me living with the boy
Despite the benefits to finances
They cant decide how much support to give me
And give me anxiety instead of stability

The boy graduates
I get one more year
HE and I no longer talk at Holiday
I think HE only comes for the food anyways

I finish school
While the school is still a husk
I didn't gain anything
But a flimsy piece of paper

Looking back
Nobody in the school believed in me
Or even thought of me 
On a regular basis
That kinda hurts

I can’t even tell
If I failed the social circles
Or if they failed me
Covid Complicated matters

I'Ll Be Right Back

Embroidery whose titan never gets credit
An empire whose founder is long forgotten
And exists only as an adage, whose tale relives
Long forgotten history
History that ministered hope to those dimming out
Shone paths to those whose itinerary was threatened by
Dark dusks and cloudy daytimes
A magnate whose reputation was the
Long run cup of poison, brewed enough to take his life
An army general whose subordinates conspired and unseated
Him, uncrowned him from glory with thorns
A trusted cognate who is declared illegitimate at the reading
Of a will
We all are victims of our previous milestones misunderstood
Fruitful efforts unappreciated and rightful places robbed
Once we were at the pinnacle but we only stare up at it
From the footstool we found ourselves suddenly
The peak of one mountain seemingly the bottom of the other
The tempting decision to drop off the pinnacle and grow wings
To land on the top of Everest or the slopes of Aberdares
Whichever the outcome let it be loud,
You were once at the top, and you are back there!

Sleepless Nights

toss and turn 
turn and toss
awake forever 
feeling cross 

try sleeping tricks 
counting sheep 
relaxing muscles 
breathing deep 

think of work 
worry a lot 
much too cold 
but then too hot 

lie on belly 
turn on back 
sigh a lot 
desire snack 

stare at the dark 
get up for drink 
check the phone 
watch you tube link 

nudge your partner 
wake them up 
deny you did
tempers erupt 

no sleep at all
try not to weep 
dawn light appears 
drop off to sleep


30 October 2022
Brian Strand Premiere Contest

• Short Drop Off Poems
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