Smidgeon Poems

Asking My Granddaughter About Her Major in College

I do not have a smidgeon of an idea
Speaker is my teenage granddaughter Rhea
I thought you were a senior in college, I say.
She nods her head, agreeing straight away.

Don’t you have to declare a major before senior year?
If I knew you would hound me, I would not have come here.
Seriously, Rhea, what is your major? I ask, trying to sound kind.
“I think I will be queen of the internet; I have that sort of mind.”

Every fibre

See how they run
for every birthday they besmirch
See how they stand steadfast
isn't that a sad thing
Although my heart is crying
my soul is dying
Hear their laughter, every smidgeon
every fibre in their being

Soar Up To The Sky

Written: December 13, 2023
          ____________________________________________

If the ocean's water
were used as writing ink for pens
to write down our words of praise
the ocean would eventually dry up
before it might be put in writing.

evil will triumph 
if the righteous remain silent
Inner defect causes blindness
success depends on action
stand up and do what
you realize is right 
 
raise exertion level
a smidgeon suffices 
to allow notions of impetus
you can then sleep well
your pick is akin to lacerations
requires precise timing
curious but uncertain. 
blind attrition is pointless. 

reach for stars
obtain an aerial view of the world
wave farewell to the land
live easily a prospective granted by
you are misusing beauty
greet the passing clouds.

forsake worries and avert your gaze
fear is a foe you must overcome
soar high and be wise.

A Look Inward At Darkness In the Mortal Soul

A Look Inward At Darkness In The Mortal Soul

Strange now rests overburdened seas and hapless stars
Undiscovered jungle villages that think all earth is flat
Those that slow walk total blindness but never drank in bars
And in the tepid night, those that never hit when at bat
Yet Nature marches without clock or a smidgeon of guilt
It far flies its soul outward for all mortal men to see
In the secret alley truth is stabbed up to the hilt
All the while oppressors wage a war against you and me!

Strange now rests overburdened seas and hapless stars
Those that slow walk total blindness but never drank in bars
Yet Nature marches without clock or a smidgeon of guilt
In the secret alley truth is stabbed up to the hilt.

Undiscovered jungle villages that think all earth is flat
And in the tepid night, those that never hit when at bat
It far flies its soul outward for all mortal men to see
All the while oppressors wage a war against you and me!

Robert J. Lindley, 6-26-2023
Rhyme++

Self-Dilution

We lament for what others can see.
a sense of self-congruity.
We yearn to be purified of flaws.
Also, sorting through the abuse.
grabs a hold of it via an inaccurate immersion.
utterly absurd.
What else are you going through?
It's quite reminiscent of a hologram.
the moment we crave a smidgeon of empathy.
Charmingly haphazard credibility.


Written: March 23, 2022

End of An Uncertain Year

The end of another year of much uncertainty
As we sifted through mounds of propaganda,
Watching folks line up to espouse their ardency
The end of another year of much uncertainty,
Many vocalizing without a smidgeon of courtesy
Apparently, some did not get the memoranda,
The end of another year of much uncertainty
As we sifted through mounds of propaganda.

written December 26, 2021

O Curse of a Century

O curse of a century

O Calamity of a century,
Enough thieving of precious human life,
Keen we’re to see thy date of expiry.

As plague ye came, hoary thy history,
Unleashing a terror of gravest strife,
O thou curse of this chequered century.

Ye came as flue not any less deadly,
No withered virus, virulent its jibe,
Nor tamed, nowhere seen its life expiry.

Corona as now creepy and scary,
With mutants of many a varied type,
Messenger O of Death from mortuary,

Thought, year twenty had reigned more than plenty,
‘Las, what followed has dug in more than rife,
O Year Twenty-One, when’s thy expiry?

O Tragedy Smidgeon of great fury,
O Crowned Tsar, thy bite sharper than of knife,
Time's ripe to go, hasten but not slowly,
We’re keen to see thy back, better hurry. 
________________________________________________
Villanelle |09.04.2021|
Topic: tragedy, calamity

Certain Days

Certain days feel much longer than long
With too much in the world that is wrong
But I don’t have a clue
If there’s more we can do
Than just suck it all up and be strong.

For complaining accomplishes naught
And despite all that we have been taught
There are times we’re just stuck
When not even some luck
Can provide the relief that we’ve sought.

We can hope that tomorrow will bring
An injection of gusto and zing
Or a smidgeon of hope
Lowered down like a rope
For escaping, to which we can cling.

Creatures All Over Her House

I walked up to the door and stopped surprised.
There were three creatures there before my eyes.
A handsome dog, a fluffy cat, and a most casual deer.
None of them moved or had a smidgeon of fear.

You do have an unusual home I told my host.
I know she said, and I hate to boast 
But inside you will see some amazing creatures too.
She ushered me in to find an elephant, horse and kangaroo.

Where does the elephant sleep? I asked my friend.
Usually in the stable, but today he is on the mend.
He had an argument with the tiger; see the tiger is still mad.
This was the shortest visit to a friend’s house I have ever had.

Some Other That

I am in this place
and you are in that.
I suspect you are in a different place,
one I have yet to recall, or visit.

Same goes for my dog, but now and again
her wet nose in my ear wakes me up
from a troubled sleep.
Same goes for the mean snake slaying Siamese cat
that scratched me to pieces.
I reckon that it still exists in some parallel universe,
still craping on some other
poor son of a .

Today I am on the doorstep of
of a Thai restaurant - I think I once lived in Thailand,
but it could have been this other person,
someone who lives in another dimension,
a place just a smidgeon from my left eye.




------

Creature Features

THE MEERKAT
Meerkats are delightful beasts,
Arousing warm affection
They stand in groups discrete
Looking in the same direction

COW
How now brown cow
A bestowal to the world art thou
Miracle of God's construction
Four stomachs in mass production

THE PIG
Our blessings upon you abound
In our hearts you did awaken
A sense of gratitude profound
For bringing home the bacon

CHICKENS
In these days of Genetic modification
There is a question that begs
Should we yield to the great temptation
To get a chickens with four wings and six legs

THE URBAN PIGEON
I've nothing against the urban pigeon
But could it not maintain a smidgeon
Of caution when it makes its flyway
In the middle of a six lane highway

THE ANT
The ant delights to frolic
In Formic acid vitriolic
But on the tongue of the Ant Eater
There is nothing could be sweeter

THE BULL
His spontaneous emanation
Given without solicitation 
Should encouraged him on a mission
To be a salesman or politician

A Smidgeon Too Much Rum

shhhh...please don't tell Jan I tattled on her.

Did you hear 'bout Jan's custard a-la-plum
While making it she drank far too much rum
while on her wobbly legs
put mustard in the eggs
It was wretched and tasted like pond scum

Her hubby asked her for a large serving
But the rum made Jan wiggle while swerving
'Twas a messy mishap
She dropped it on his lap
Jan laughed but hubby found it unnerving

He asked why she thought that was so funny
Jan sipped more rum then said, "Sorry, honey"
She sat upon the floor
and drank a few gulps more
then slurred, "It wath a smidgeon too runny"

The Noise

It was the quietest of hums deep pitched
that appeared to be surrounding me.
It did not have the sizzle of electricity
and was not a light or the fridge.

Hunting high and low trying to make sense
of where it was originating from.
A few hours later and still no wiser
I sat back and pondered on things.

Next I tried turning off the power
which made not a smidgeon of difference.
It was still there quietly emitting sound
I knew what I needed to track it down.

I got out a stethoscope and placed it
first to the walls and then to the ceiling.
Ah now I knew what it was, munching away
slowly demolishing the whole of my house.

Feasting away, leaving behind a clue
a small pile of very fine wood.
Yes I was infested by a very small grub
commonly known as a wood worm.

Silly Doesn'T Come Easy

I tried to write a silly smidgeon of a poem
    from cloudy depression to escape.
instead I went and checked the fridge
   and ate a sugary piece of cake.

Four For the Birds - Footles

Goose Lawsuit

    Gander
    Slander

Owl’s Knock Knock Joke

     Who Who
     Cuckoo?

Hen with Bad Illness

    Stricken
    Chicken

Bird Hits Windshield
 
    Smidgeon
    Pigeon

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