Short Jotted Poems

Laughter 
filled the emptiness...
Could this be
Heaven?

Cynthia
A Poet Who Loves To Sing

(found this jotted on a post it...1:09 p.m.  written March 23, 2013......

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I jotted the number down with a pen
called and set the date of time and when
two men and a truck
finally showed up
outside my door stood two stick figured men



7-6-18...

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Imaginative
And fantastical
Ideas from my muse
A mysterious
Missive in my mind

Leaping dancing
An opening
Of possible
Dream paths

Delightful
Insightful
Cleverly

Quickly
Jotted

Poem...

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It appears that Billy, the Kid had some fun with a census taker
during that period when the Kid was a cattle rustler.
On the application where it states what one does for a living
the Kid jotted down "cattle managing."...

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Ambition breeding cold determination
Every facet guiltily held in jotted keys
Lurking making numerous opportunities
Pleading quick reaction seldom thinking
Undermining valiant workers xenophobic 
Yearning zealously among bidders...

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As a child, I dreamt of occupations
that would take me to the moon,
deepest of the oceans, and most hidden
places in the mind.

Today, I am all I wanted to be as a child.
All the character that I have jotted down
in my stories are my representation.


Date: 4/26/2016...

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(in memory of "Black") 


Another soul has left this lonely place, 
A place without end, 
A time that will not stand still, 
With one shot 
She left this world as an unknown 
Just another number, 
Jotted down in the book of time 
And thus gone in the black of night. 

(c) 1994, 2004...

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 to my son, Tito 


A handful of sand in the angel's palm,
how often you strummed and sifted the metaphor 
of Long Beach (since you were four and rolled 
and unrolled and jotted down the specks of time 
as if you knew what was behind the flimsy skies
that threw your quantum song asunder)....

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I tried to write in rhyme
Of nights I’ve spent awake
Weaning my infant love
Humming a silent lullaby

I took my ball point pen
And jotted down your name
In the space of an hour and a half
begging the letters to come

Every letter I wrote spelt love
And every pause, a prayer
That those who love
Should rhyme in love....

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restless perceptions lie
in shadows they stir

in moments of silence words stir
as they wait to take form

the house is still
but it breathes

outside the window
a yard light shines a star

in the back of the house
a quiet side street

notes jotted down in haste
wait for the morning light

a love poem to be written
waits to be shared
...

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Propensity sparks
Betting in numbers to win
Probable goals failed.

Tried bet once more though
Best loved numbers didn't hit
Long waited win ends.

Money for other things
Risking bet to win some more 
Awake while asleep.

Dreamt came before dawn
Whilst numbers gone out boxes
Jotted down traces.

Shrewd Gambler wandered
Vivid signs pooped up in mind
Winning is losing....

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busybodies might help catch criminals
if they write down every type of car and license plate
parked on their block and the blocks around their blocks
it would be helpful too if they jotted down the drivers descriptions
they could then be elevated from arm chair detectives….
to real detectives.
I would be the first in line
if I had any neighbors
which I do not.
None close anyway...

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Over where the Delphiniums bloom Cornflower Blue
The Zephyr blows on quiet morns
Then the excited voices come to play
And screams resound in heat of day

Where splashes and laughter 
Are common things
Stress disappears 
Joy relaxation brings

Children smile with dimples
As water drips from hair
Drenched like salamanders
Once again where Delphiniums live

(Jotted on any available paper)...

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I come back to these scribbles
jotted down in broken verse
   of when I felt.
When my body burned with passion and rage
when my loins ached or my heart broke.

Revisiting the epoch of life
trying to re-assemble the shape of those energies.

Yet I am still numb.

Apathetic and drifting on analgesia
the medicine my hysterias sought.

Humanity leached into distance and fugue.
Desensitized to the state of existence. 
I cease to be me....

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the llama scribbled a Limerick
the robin wrote a Rhyme
the bittern jotted a Lanterne
the toad penned an Ode

the albatross’ Alliteration
the hippo’s Haiku 
the panther’s Pantoum 
the cuckoo’s Clerihew

the cow came up with a Couplet
the vole fashioned a Verse
the elephant thought of an Elegy
the pig presented some Prose

these are the unsung poets
the writers of their poem
make a mind to acknowledge
or they’ll remain unknown



...

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While sitting at my writing desk
I penned a poem on white pages,
What came to grow inside my head?
Motley forms of meter ranges.

First, I jotted one Canzone
Followed by two strong Sonnets,
Next, I added three Rondeaus
Not to mention many Couplets.

Then I scribbled five Villanelles,
With six Sestinas I just treasure,
Along with only eight Kyrielles,
A rima royal for good measure.

Now I'm stumped! What should I do?
This poem was meant to be Haiku....

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Through the rear door she entered
Though noticing pretended he not to have
With crispy steps her way she found
To a chair next to his

"Who is she?"...his heart searched

A pen in one hand
Admiration concealed
Emotions controlled
His name on printed paper down he wrote
Introduction..."thats my name"
He motioned
Next to his she jotted her's
Beautiful as she so also was her name
"I wish she was mine to tame"
He thought

For then I will call her everyday...
"Beautiful!"...

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