Short Rpm Poems

what are they, grandma?
I laugh
My grandchildren are serious?
I dig out my old phonograph player.
They are amazed.
Thinking it is a robot.
And I am a genius!...

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Living at maximum RPM,
the world outside surrounds me
Setting traps and digging holes
to slow my motion down

I bob and weave, increasing speed,
the pitfalls deep and mighty
Hunted for the threat I pose
—their treadmills overwound

(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: July, 2021)...

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There was a young man from Pensacola
Who chug-a-lug a bourbon high cola
Gave it try
Eyes did cry
Head swirled like he was on a Victrola.

A Victrola is a record player that used to spin those old platters, 66, 33 RPM. If you care, you can boot up a picture of one on your chosen website....

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because so it is,
he says

ashtray's empty
and
Dolly Parton
cries
for
Jolene
spinning dizzy
in the
corner
 
in my mind
all words
leave the
paper
 
love laid to rest,
I can
recognize
the 
smell.


© Gry W Christensen


(My take on "Relationships". My entry in the "Relationships" contest, ending Aug.  25. )...

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45 rpm tossed aside
spinning again no more,
old, unwanted turntable
cruelly cast out of a door;

in the attic kept away
gathering dust silently,
not unlike a transient life
to the end pointing surely;

music fading, we following,
fleeting like a crazy dream,
meaningless and forgotten,
no better than a 45 rpm....

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