Long Bored Poems
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I was told today,
In a rather abrupt way,
That when on the phone with me
The few words that I say
Sound like,
"Ribbit"
I give one word answers to the questions that they ask,
And I never ask any questions back;
They are probably right, I am not good at that task
And cannot argue the fact,
"Ribbit"
It's not that I don't care about you,
Or the things that you say and do;
It's not that I am bored with our talk
And wish the conversation was through,
"Ribbit"
I just don't do telephones well;
I'm not sure I can explain why;
Perhaps I feel it's so impersonal
If I can't look the other person in the eye,
"Ribbit"
I ask forgiveness and will work on it;
I'm sure it's something I can fix;
So if next time you call you can't shut me up
Remember, you only got what you wished!
"Ribbit"
Oh how I love you as I make a trail,
I scurry behind you wagging my tail.
If only you knew the thoughts in my head,
You'd walk much slower or let me lay on your bed.
I love you; I love you, I truly do.
I just can't stop chewing your shoe.
I whine at night and scratch on the floor,
Because I miss you and I'm really quite bored.
So please pay attention and watch how I act.
Correct me with love and I'll come back.
Teach me it is alright to chew
On a big bone, just not on your shoe.
Show me by taking me for a walk.
Be proud of me, I'll listen when you talk.
Show me what's right and what is wrong,
I can learn quickly if you are strong.
Then as I sit quietly at your heal,
You will know the love that I must feel.
There will no longer be any disaster
Because I will know I am your Dog
And you are the Master.
As elegant canopies of cute flowers
Begin to pale into less natural hues,
Eyes wildly wander for better sights
Under the old heavens' banal blues.
As the sun's rigor sinks in the west,
Score for dimmer stars hits its best;
Dull Moon is at last by men adored,
With none by his lower shine bored.
For want of simpler paths more used
To the common limb’s ordinary tread,
Most wayfarers do quite often blunder:
In easier roads lie worse pitfalls fused!
Thump not your vainglorious chest
If bereft souls swelling praises give;
For the sun’s regal orb might in zest
Pop and say lesser kings shan’t live!
Blowers of vain own-blasted trumpets,
Will halt to hear more tuneful nuggets!
The world is over; we have become obsolete.
Automation about to be complete.
The aftermath is clear.
We are living in the judgement zone, alone—
Where we face ourselves in giant mirrors
That both illuminate and mutate our true selves.
We must come to terms with what we cannot undo,
And rip out the parts we cannot carry through
Into the next realm.
We have no form.
No shape.
No visible structures
In the next chapter.
We exist as only feeling—
Raw emotion,
The electrical current from our brains
Released into the atmosphere.
Climbing ever up,
Up,
And up.
Fighting back streams of tears—
Not out of sadness,
But not out of gladness either.
More of a beauty.
Everything is poignant.
Everything has meaning.
I do not want it to fade
Further into oblivion.
I cannot face Armageddon alone.
I do not want to see the end.
I want my planet back.
The one I had in the nineties—
When peace was a heartbeat away,
When people worked for the greater good of humanity.
Now all I see is hate,
Retribution,
And revenge.
Where have all the cowboys gone?
They stripped off the wranglers
And traded them for Skechers slip-ins.
Daintily cantilevering around their houses,
Balancing their lives between bland boring banality
And the extreme highs they seek
At every red light.
You might spot me in the window—
Shadowed by taboo,
Purifying my soul
By granting fantasies to the bored.
I might dance for money.
But I also dance for movement.
I want a revolution.
And pretty faces
Are known to launch armadas.
My Spanish blood burns.
I conquer their dreams.
I overwrite their banal fantasy
With illicit living—
On the edge of reason and sanity.
I want an old world—
One built on trade
Of goods, services, and ideals.
This new world consists of nothing but vacant boxes,
Technology’s cold refrain,
And disease patterns.
Hordes of demons hiding in suits of skin,
Pretending to care for our kin—
Betrayals and sin.
Begin again.
My Missing Muse
I have tried to write as of late,
but my mind has become a true blank slate.
My keyboard is bored and my ideas are bland.
I have to think of something grand.
Lately I lack poetic thought, thus I’m feeling quite distraught.
Maybe new themes will come to mind, if I read some antique poems of mine.
I have written about nature,
birds like ducks,
a child’s marker freckles,
a coffee cup.
A retired boat resting on the shore,
dirty socks behind a door.
I’ve penned 2 poems about Monet and VanGogh.
Now Degas? I don’t know.
Lady Di who danced in her royal gown,
but sadly now listens to angel sounds.
Her love for people was always increasing, but my poetic thoughts,now decreasing.
A teapot and a tuffet, diddle diddle dee.
A sweet little bundle came to me.
Blueberries grow on a bush not a tree!
Still no ideas will come to me.
Two tired tulips on my windowsill doze.
Three ladybugs on a daffodil pose.
Now is the time I need to compose!
A chorus frog’s peeping has a dancing beat,
clicking,
croaking,
repeat.
Jumping rope in heels, the teacher who tried her best.
Feathered fledglings sleeping in a Blue Egg mommy’s nest.
There is a wee granny in my apple tree.
Bring your appetite, then you’ll see!
Trees dressed in acorns
Protect our seas
Echoing owls between forest trees.
No new ideas coming into my head ?
My muse is hiding, I dread.
Cronkite,a reporting wiz,
closed the news, “That’s the way it is”
An unbiased journalist one could trust.
Integrity, sincerity and principles, a must.
TV shows,
Winter fairies on tiptoes.
Still I have the blank slate woes!
A path of moonlight, dragonflies.
Slowly summer says goodbye.
Soon the southern birds will fly.
Smell the season sunshine.
Crowds that cheer, “Alley Oop”
As basketballs find their longed for hoops.
Aunt Gloria was warm in her Irish blue.
Little boy Benjamin lost his little shoe!
His sister found it, "PEE U”
“Hooray” I cheer. Now it seems more clear, I feel my blank slate might disappear.
I’m suddenly feeling passion for more creative action!
Imagination,inspiration,determination!
My mental blankness is washing away.
New topics to write about, coming into play.
Now upside down silly fun.
To the writing teeter totter Marikate, have fun!
Us guys never lose our love for the opposite sex
It's deeply engrained in our psyche
It's obvious every single day of our lives
We travel life's highway admiring the scenery passing by
This one make me sit up and take notice
That one turns my rusty old crank
Now this one over here makes me salivate
Us males continue the need to refresh our canvas
We easily get bored with the same old, same old
Variety they say is the spice of life
In my case, it's the whole kit and caboodle!
So keep on keeping on with your provocativeness
As long as I'm still alive and kicking
I'll continue to admire the female form in all it's glory
Your charm will never go unnoticed
Long live short skirts!
© Jack Ellison 2014
I lounge about, walk about, crocking
a hymn of praise or two.
Heaven, is heavenly,
or is it a fake and fanciful heaven
created
for fanciful and fake poets?
I sit by a sweetly flowing stream'
a host of gay vividly colorful flowers
speak to me
in the high-falutin language
of antique songs.
It is wonderfully wonderful,
yet I am bored,
bored with the supranormal
and the ethereal nature of nature,
bored with the endless beauty
of all that I encounter.
The loveliest woman I have ever seen
visits my moody meditations,
she tells me to write and to stop ing,
but I just cannot,
for I cannot pen the transcendental
or sublime, without mentioning the ugly,
and the dark history of suffering
and there is no dark suffering here,
not even a sniffle or a tear.
I am bored, not unhappy only bored,
and I want to go back
to my shatty life and write
about my misery and yours.
I figure heaven is not a location
but a state of mind,
and that my heaven in reality
is a place
where demons and angel's battle
for the right to fight on -
forever.
(A Cat’s Viewpoint)
My mommy spends a lot of time
playing with her pet, ka’pooter;
I like to lay up in her lap
when she’s playing;
ka’pooter talks to her sometimes,
it makes no sense.
Ka’pooter has a gazillion faces
and turns into lots of creatures.
When mommy’s typing up her poe-tree,
little tiny figures appear;
I guess it’s what her poe-tree’s made out of.
I love laying in mommy’s lap but
I hate it that ka’pooter gets
more attention than I do.
I think mommy just likes those
clicky things on what she calls a kee-bored.
At times, when mommy’s not at home
I try to talk to ka’pooter;
to tell it how I feel but, it won’t talk to me;
it won’t even show me its faces!
I think ka-pooter’s a lot like a dog
it doesn’t like cats like me...
Wait...one of them little kee thingy’s
just flew off...hey, wait up, let’s play!
A memory of your tender, radiant grin,
Your warm embrace, your gentle, sweet kiss,
My heart glows with delight and joy within—
In your presence, I simply can’t resist.
When my grandchild grows bored of every toy,
I propose a classic game: hide and seek.
Her laughter when she finds me brings me joy—
My whole being lights up with every peek.
At times, I sit alone, feeling adrift—
Then a caring voice on the phone revives me.
Across the line, hope and connection shift,
Dissolving solitude, setting me free.
When illness keeps me resting in my bed,
My family’s visit lifts my weary soul.
Their comforting words flow until I’m fed
With warmth and care that make my spirit whole.
In moments strained by sorrow and despair,
When I yearn for strength to face the pain,
You appear, a steadfast friend who dares
To lift my spirit—my smile returns again.
I watch the cherry blossoms paint the sky,
And see children reaching for the ripe fruit—
Their laughter echoes, making spirits fly,
Their simple joy becomes my own pursuit.
Seeing someone familiar after time apart
Sparks a warmth that radiates so bright.
In that embrace, my soul and heart
Find once more their soothing light.
I thought that I was unprepared
In case the day got colder.
I should have brought a sweater
I could toss across my shoulder.
I wasn't sure I'd brought enough
To read to be fulfilling
In case some plans fell through and there
Was time that needed killing.
I thought I might get hungry
And forgot to bring a snack,
Though once I'd had that thought, it was
Too late for turning back.
It turned out I was warm enough,
Not hungry and not bored,
So luck was on my side,
A most mysterious reward.
For though the Girl Scouts tell us
We should always be prepared,
Without such luck we never know
Just how we might have fared.