I type on my keyboard.
But you do not listen.
You type on your keyboard, too.
And yet, I can hear every single "clack, clack" of your keys.
Tonight, as I draw the curtain of darkness
And gently try to summon sleep,
A mosquito comes buzzing, wing, wing,
Sucking away all my heavy fatigue.
I fall into a dream.
Yet, I still hear your voice.
"Clack, clack."
"Wing, wing."
"Ah, damn it!"
"Let me just endure this until you finally retire!"
Feeling a breath, as if someone was invading my bare skin,
I woke up without realizing,
And struck down with all my might.
That was the end of the mosquito.
You should have just sucked a reasonable amount and left.
But as I wake up in the early morning,
I suddenly realize
That my boss and I are only a single year apart in age.
Like a humble Bodhi tree,
In the end, I bow my head to him.
Tomorrow, I will greet him with all my energy!
“Hello! Good morning!”
It seems I’ve written myself into a corner~
pages piling up like overexcited puppies,
yapping for a home.
My desk groans under the weight
of poems, memoirs, and drafts~
half-finished brilliance,
and that one story I swear I’ll revise someday.
The solution seems obvious
another filing cabinet~
a shiny metal monument
to my writing compulsion.
But where to put the thing
in this tiny office
already stuffed with creativity
and questionable organizational choices.
Then it hits me
the closet~
that mysterious portal
where abandoned sweaters go to retire.
It’ll fit snugly inside
like it was always meant to be there,
guarding my words
like a loyal metal dragon.
Problem solved… for now
until the next poem arrives
demanding its own drawer
and the closet starts whispering,
“Don’t even think about it.”
The office is cold, sterile
smells like the previous patient
The wait isn't bad, you get used to it
The questions keep coming like a string of tennis balls
You hope it will lead to answers
to explain your changing body
which silently moans
The answers come as quickly as the questions
The shoulders relax
The body is silent, barely a whimper
The mind is satisfied and the heart feels lighter
Thank you, Doctor
The gown and the sheet are bunched up
To prepare for the next patient
Who will endure the questions once more
Hope they too get the answers they need.
I will show you what the F B I have now informed officially to everybody.!
The survivors unredacted life details
Those make this writes title, is that all? You May well ask of me.? There is more to
The point i raise.' If that is the situation?
How many then are the affected
humans in real
Total.? In this botched investigation? It must be very, very many.'l? And the bureau
Confirms they are ( indeed survivours ) if
So from what? and therefore whom? You
Know I beleive there has been connivance'
That their has been procedure unfair.' A
Reluctance; to bring the law to bear' though perpetrators were reported.'
To skullduggery some officials have resorted.' Unlawfull and mal-feac-iously so
I call for redress also, now immiediatley so!)
Sun went down this morning
Moon stayed up all day
Buzzards arfed, Ravens meowed
Violins began to neigh…
Rainstorms left the country wet
Hurricanes twisted down bathtub drains
Snow followed, forming igloos
Beaver Cleaver sang the blues
Ice shelves collapsed, waters rose
L.A. vanished, N.Y. drowned
Diseases raged, young folks aged
Then Trump chimed in to complete the day
Ordered ICE to stop melting ~
Kept his golf course out of harm's way
A school office.
A chair.
A boy.
A strained smile,
Owned by the principal,
He claims this was not an easy decision
He pretends to care -
The boy is expelled.
Distraction, aggressive, non-compliant
Nothing more, nothing less,
His crime: a multitude of reasons
A perfect score on his test,
Impossible, he is miles further than the rest -
Of the class,
He claims it is suspicious
Boys like ‘him’ don’t usually achieve success
Next -
Yelling at the the teacher,
For making multiple insensitive comments
Micro-aggressions passing for ‘truth’
The teacher, has a history of complaints,
From fellow black youths.
The teacher is white -
We already know whose side the principal will choose
These were never crimes,
They just couldn’t buy the black boys silence -
So they resort to calling him violent
The principal stands up,
He claims there is nothing he can do
That is a lie, we all know the truth,
He just couldn’t control the black student
A sudden shift
I felt my spirits lift
Then the spotlights' glare
And I'm left standing there
Too new to identify:
An imperfect alibi
Their surgical stares
Dismembering me
With wry deft precision
Paralyzed by pompous glares
Cursing my decision
To com here willingly
And climb their golden stairs
Their spotlights fade
No jury heard my case
Their judgments made
Their cruelty bares one face
Their hearts: a crimson blade
Their eyes bestow disgrace
On my low inferior grade
Am I too much a fool to care
My brands blazed as I stepped
The high and mighty scare
Easily as my forbearance crept
In crushing bounds echoing
In the silence seized.
All eyes hollowed as one fainted
Their hallowed night tainted
My mottled old soul sainted
And thus, the rest of the night
Fell before me
On bended knee.
Oh, how I loath a formal party
The rumor mill is printing already
Some joker introduced as, Eddie
Ask If me and Joan, from accounting-
Were going steady.
From there-
The casualties just kept mounting
Wowza I'm all fired up
My coffee was a double macchiato espresso
My pencil best keep up
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
all the gadgets on the doctor’s wall
are tempting me, calling me honey
I want to play with them, and I mean all.
But if I break them, they’ll cost me money.
girl and her daddy are in the doctor’s waiting room
neither of them appears to be sick
she looks especially well.
Her eyes are bright, and she is moving around like a bubble
She smiles at me and waves.
I wave back, glad to see her.
Maybe they are here for a camp check-up?
She turns and regurgitates all over the seat.
Her father takes his time noticing.
He has been looking at his phone.
Touching this postal stamp shaped just like a sponge
How many more of these stamps would be launched
The beautiful colors and the humor of animation
Cheering up a heart through this line of communication
The hues being used could moisten the stamp
Cute little stamps to use by those in summer camp
It has to be an honor to be featured on a stamp by USPS
SpongeBob swimming through the post office is the best
Sailing solo is unsafe
and it's not much fun
one winds up talking to oneself
before the day is done
but a bad day on the water
or so someone said
beats a good day at the office
(and I would know)
snug in my bunk bed
so gentlemen here's a tip for you
as all good sailors do
(when they want to wee believe you me)
remain seated throughout the performance
when you go to the head (loo) or WC
A spacious office was big and bold
Now it is an unused space, painted bold
There is a hut-like cubbyhole with mold
To get in there, your legs have to fold
The air is on high, so this space is cold
Hoarder-messy, it has never sold
Oh, my gosh, I’m freaking and feel such dread.
What the hay is this nonsense on my head?
I can’t go to work, can't enter the office!
I will be seen, visible to peers and bosses,
be the fool who provided entertainment gossip.
God, please, send help, I am stress-nauseous.
I do not care about appearing faultless,
but I'd rather errantly tuck a dress in my hose
and walk through the office cluelessly exposed
than have everyone think this is what I choose.
I wonder if I should call in with a case of ugly,
hire someone to gently, but effectively mug me?
Perhaps I'll get pulled and cuffed on the roadside
for publicly exposing the ugliest hair ever dyed.
Shame a wig class wasn't at business school:
"How to Avoid Looking Like the Office Fool."
I look like a horrified, horror movie hostess.
Even my own mirror is refusing to focus.
Here I am, paler than even fresh new snow,
with midnight black hair grooving to and fro.
My very first dye and, oh my, I could just die!
Box said ‘brown’, now I'm so down, I might cry.
Universe, please – send a natural disaster,
nothing fatal, it's just one repair day I’m after.
Computer say’s no!
We are trapped in the gloom
Software is broken
The office is a tomb
American tech to you we plead
Save the day and our voracious greed
Look out! Here comes the tumble weed!
We have become a dormant seed.
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