Short Honked Poems

no true destiny
just anywhere else
penned the sign
backpack will travel

cars honked
many smiles
some waved
I felt like I was drowning

perhaps in a sea of indecision?...

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He skipped up the streets
   of his childhood days
No vehicle honked
   nor sluggish dog lay 

Picket fences swung open
   no locks on their gates
Deserted shops covered
   their wares with their Fates

He dabbed at his cheek
   a pool of tears forming there
As the Breezes fell silent
   and the Sun did not care...

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I wished to know how my new slinky would do out the car’s back window
So while Dad drove highways and thought me backseat asleep with pillows,
I rolled the glass down, then holding one end tight, sent my toy to flight.
Five cars honked, three swerved and lots aimed gestures placing blame for this plight.



... CayCay
July 31, 2021...

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I ordered a steak
It came back too rare

I looked in the mirror
I'm losing my hair

A traffic nut passed me on the right
Honked my horn with all my might

Watch the news or whatever is there
Tell you the truth, I just sit and stare

My business is worried, facing a loss
Lots of financial risk being the boss

Fearing for the workers, how they'll fare
Everything I have, it's tough not to care...

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The goose came to a hidden bump on the road

And wondered whether to fly or walk for a bit

But on reflection in a nearby puddle she feared

That piloerection was more than a natural reflex


Turned her back to the kind obstacle and honked

Gathered her fledglings and carefully retreated 

It is Christmas soon and they might mistake me

For a turkey and the path leads to the slaughter


25th December 2019...

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A man drove by,
he honked his horn,
you looked at me like,
I had done something wrong.

Don't forget it was 
you who left,had your
mind on her and yourself.

Slender and trim I'm
beginning to get,four
sizes smaller haven't 
quite got there yet.

Telephone ringing off
the wall,had to go buy
an answering machine
to answer all the calls.

Sorry my dear, I have
to go,I have a dinner
date and I can't be late....

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He could paint the air and draw the winds.
Of course that brief eulogy
was only spoken after his demise;
while alive he was often considered a clod and a bore.
Foreseeing no such post-mortem fame
he kept writing on water
knowing that there was an archive of his works
in an after-life waiting to be discovered
by his wandering soul.
In the meantime, ducks quacked, geese honked
and the little birds in his still beating heart
twittered on....

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