Millions of decades ago,
ancient humankind had one purpose in life:
to find prey
every day,
a stomach that stayed full
until the next breath,
until the last breath.
Ideas stormed,
things evolved,
brains grew creative,
and eventually, we were called the smartest species on Earth.
Here we are, humans of today’s bin,
seeing the air around us
and wondering:
is this how it has always been?
This very planet once had souls whose purpose was big, yet small.
"Laughter, smiles — that's all we want."
However, today's baby is born with a paper and pen.
They start writing down desires, one after another, until the last day.
And boom — the list has already crossed a thousand before the age of ten.
From one corner of the world come screams for money and hymns,
while from another come cries for love.
This world is now full of deafening screams.
People are becoming breathless, chasing empty dreams.
A smile, evoked by ninety-nine reasons,
vanishes because of one statement.
The heart is weak,
the brain dominates.
It's the new normal.
The 8 billion pockets are getting heavy,
but are we ready?
Life is short;
Dare to love,
Dare to hate.
I love you,
You love me,
Love you all.
Don't let pass
Second chances,
Thrown away.
Thrive to live,
Live each day,
Reach each goal.
As I get older
My wish lists get
Smaller and smaller
What I really want
Can't be bought with money.
there's something intrinsically poetic about lists…
1.
bread (wholemeal)
twelve eggs
solar panels
occasional frogs
corporate lawyers
steam
2.
onions (red)
tomatoes (finely chopped)
garlic (four cloves)
fireman's ladder (aluminium)
disparity (secretly hidden)
mildness (abundant)
gluttony (almost definite)
mozzarella (abridged)
3.
clean sink
dirty sink
point un-necessarily
wear wetsuit and carry surfboard in populated area
shirk responsibilities
vacuum dog
hide
reappear (nearly palindromic)
borrow an eagle
book car in to be painted yellow
buy a bucket
start new list
Survived a six-week vacation
in downtown Gary, Indiana
Bucket lists these days
have gone bananas
Dreaming words, and the words are waiting.
I awaken and try to open my notebook, but the pages are stuck.
I scramble fruitlessly every morning.
Those dreams, those dreams…
I forgot my dreams before I could get a pen in my hand.
So I can only look back at my list from yesterday.
Of all the things I was supposed to do.
But that list is dusty and outdated.
So I write my new list and write neatly.
I look through my old lists.
And close my notebook,
Until tomorrow morning.
Got old,
It's not so bad,
Wrinkle age, bucket lists,
Option far worse, naught to discuss,
No fuss.
One-Out One-in To Do
Too much to do?
Much more than few?
Only add one in
When one out binned.
When inviting some folks to your home,
Over guest lists you really should comb,
Crossing out those whose views
Have made waves in the news
Or you might end up here in a poem.
So a bigot or one filled with hate,
Should not find his name card on a plate,
Though, of course, it’s a choice
To break bread or give voice
To whomever you think carries weight.
Still, expect to be hit with some flack
As your friendships come under attack.
If you’ve chosen to dine
With some snakes, show some spine
And admit that it’s savvy you lack.
Comfortable silence
Conversations
made by our eyes
Bodies that intertwine
like souls who've met
before our time
Long loving laughter
that feels up a room
Time stands still
just to watch us kiss
with intention
Fear escapes us here
Stresses neglect us
Certainty is mine dear
They texted on backlit marginalia,
phones dimming as the night grew older.
After a squabble, they tested their feelings.
“I am still the same woman,” she wrote,
mentioning all her good points.
He, drowsy and hung over,
“I have a list.”
He had listed the many reasons
she was great to be with -
quoted those.
“Thank you,” she said preening.
“I haven’t changed, you have!”
He added a few cons to a new list
he had secretly been compiling,
then some more.
The list grew longer.
“I’ve made another list.” He told her.
She took this as a good sign.
“Yes, go on…”
‘A change would be good’, he thought,
but wrote:
“I love you just the way you are.”
After the make-up chat,
he downloaded an adult video.
Joy! Joy! of all the honors I have earned
In a lifetime of trysts, mazes, and twists
None have I so much relished, indeed,
As topping one of Poetry Soup’s lists!
I only wish they would send a certificate
I feel like my soul would be duly kissed,
My head swells with pride, such renown,
If I wrote music, I’d feel like Franz Lizst!
I know some are eat up with jealousy --
Somewhere down there in the foggy mist,
But there is always room at the top
And someday, surely, you’ll make a list.
I hope you have figured out, by now, I jest.
I would write poetry if I never saw my name
Writing, my tongue firmly planted in cheek,
I would be a fop to write poetry for fame!
written December 23, 2021
[inspired by a recent poem
by a Poetry Soup poet!]
#33 on the Month's Best Poems List
January, 2022
They messaged on backlit marginalia,
phones dimming as the night grew older.
After the fight, they pondered each other,
tested their feelings.
“I am still the same woman” She wrote.
He, drowsy and hung over -
“I have a list.”
He had listed the many reasons
she was so great to be with.
He mentioned those reasons to her.
“Thank you,” she said preening.
I haven’t changed, you have!”
He added some negative cons to his list,
then some more.
The list grew longer.
“I’ve made another list.” He told her.
She took this as a good sign.
“Yes, go on…”
A change would be good. He thought
but wrote:
“I love you just the way you are.”
Then he tore up the second list
and turned on a p..n video.
*(a poem in Senryus)*
You don’t have to count,
when you lose a boyfriend, you
know. There was just one.
He was gone before
I knew it - he wasn’t, you know,
tied up or anything.
For a moment I
toy with saying, “Alexa, add
rope to my shopping list."
In High School boyfriends
come and go - it's like shopping
- where you return things.
Potpourri of collections
Hug of affections
Season of winters
Track of sprinters
Road of cars
Street of bars
Pad of flies
Pod of eyes
Tin of sardines
Western of jeans
View of lens
Peck of hens
Pulpit of preachers
Lesson of teachers
Smack of bottoms
Perfume of blossoms
Fist of thugs
Bed of bugs
Table of logs
Circle of cogs
Score of musicians
Face of beauticians
Kiss of loves
Peace of doves
Whistling of birds
Conversation of words
Blind of blinkers
Twitch of winkers
Curve of bends
Finale of ends
~~~
Inspired by “An Exaltation of Larks” by James Lipton
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