Takeout Poems

Seeing Earth as it was

An ask of mine needs urgent sating
I don’t mean to blashpeme or be rude
But when God was done and dusted creating
And he looked and saw that “it was good”
What was he looking at?

Were his eyes glued to the Andes
As the little mountains popped up like warts
Or was it trained on the Ganges
As it snaked its way through the flats
Did his breath flutter at the Siberian mirror
(I know, I know he doesn’t need the air)
Did he find the aye-aye queerer
Than the way we all find it here
Maybe it was the American cays
Strung on like beads of gems and pearls
Or the Himalayas defiant in the breeze
That whipped itself in maelstrom swirls

Or was it the terrestrial layout
Brown meat between white bread
And vegetables, like a chef’s takeout
Hamburger with the perfect spread
Was it just one point, or was it the other
Or volcanic glory, of Etna and Kea
Please, anyone, come help out a brother
I mean look at the Andaman Sea
One secret wish; to truly see
And understand just as he could
What he saw, that unbridled natural beauty
And cry out too “Damn! It is good!”

While You Wait

It's just a row of laundromat chairs—
those molded plastic ones, 
screwed into a fake strip of tile.

The whole setup’s bolted to the lunar crust
under a plexiglass dome.

Every seat holds something left behind:
a single sock, a keychain flashlight,
a takeout menu folded into fourths.

One chair’s cracked down the center,
duct tape holding it together.

There’s no sign, but it’s called
Memento on the Moon.

Sometimes, Earthlight flickers
in the dome like a busted overhead bulb.

Mantis's Mealtime Misunderstanding

A mantis so dapper and green,
Ordered takeout in gourmet scene.
He paid with a leaf,
Causing waiter great grief,
"Sir, we only take cash, you've been mean!"

©bfa032225

That Loyal Love

One shouldn’t be presumptuous, I know this all too well
But I’ve seen such fidelity and love as strong as hell
I’ve felt adoring eyes on me, her heart and mine are tied
Even when distracted I can feel her by my side

I’d never click my fingers like I’m beckoning a waiter
But if I did she’d be there ‘NOW’ and not sooner or later
I feel unworthy of the way she idolises me
I’m an ordinary fella, which I hope she’ll never see

Sometimes she is barred from places that we’d like to visit 
But we’ll eat takeout in the park and it will be exquisite 
She’s always there for me, forever at my beck and call 
Yet all she ever asks of me… is that I throw her ball

Art of Avoidance

We collect unresolved arguments,
    like spare buttons in a jar—
        each one waiting for its moment
            that never arrives.

Yesterday's dishes grow cultures
    in the sink while we pretend
        not to notice, like the way we ignore
            how your toothbrush stays dry for days.

Remember how we'd marathon films all night?
    Now the TV stays dark and cold;
        our watchlist growing longer and longer—
            a queue of stories we'll never finish.

The grocery list on the fridge
    yellows at its edges:
        takeout numbers and Netflix passwords,
            four years of shared logins we'll have to untangle.

Our lease renewal sits unopened—
    a time bomb on the counter—
        while we both scroll apartments
            in separate browser windows.

We've mastered the art
    of "maybe next year" and "we'll see,"
        both too kind or too coward
            to say what our silence already knows.

-

Voicemail 003

Hi it’s B?l?e?e?p? leave a message!

Hey it’s me Jeff
I know you’re at work.
I was bored doing nothing 
But you popped up in my mind.

I don’t know what to say.
To start I’m glad that
We’re taking things slow
And starting off as friends.

I just need sometime 
To get used to all of this.
Especially with my issues
Of pushing people away.

Sorry, my mind is just blank.
I’m just tryna find the right words
I don’t wanna say the wrong thing 
Cause I’m not good with this stuff.

I really do want this to work for us.
I want to make new memories with you.
This time I want to be more vulnerable.
I want you in my life for real this time.

Anyways call or text me later.
Maybe we can get some takeout.

A Funny Guy Went To Town With Glee

A funny guy went to town with glee,
Came home with a rat, you see.
His wife was quite cross,
With a stinky meal toss,
Said, "Next time, bring home takeout for me!"

Junebug

I don't mean to make this anyone else's fault
I don't mean to go back there
but the bumblebee with the crooked wing in the parking lot
roasting on the asphalt and I looked away
you kept it in a takeout box with a leaf as shelter
we opened a jar of honey from the cellar
heard it pop, threatening the hot June air
it melted and stuck to your bumblebee's legs
I saw a monarch with its wings torn off stumbling towards the door
my father pulled me toward the car and my mother said a prayer
and i watched it through the rearview window 

the forsythia started blooming the day the bumblebee died
we placed blossoms at its grave in the sandbox but I was
relieved to be free of the pity
we pulled apart dandelions and watched maggots swimming in the fluff
we tossed them into piles that we threw into the air until someone told us 
to knock that off and go back inside

that only left enough time for you to pick up a fat green caterpillar and
gently place him in your pocket

Daily Duties

middle aged and middle class
driving way too fast
on country lanes

drop the kid at school
group yoga then the pool 
prosecco and wealth envy over lunch

on to a manicure and then hair
(you won’t believe who I saw there)
send conspiratorial text or two; update facebook

get some vino, and the kid - shoot back home 
knock back another glass of wine;
have a gossip on the phone

revving engine on the driveway: dinner’s bell
pour a cobra; grab a takeout menu
domestic bliss? suburban hell?

Disbelief 'N' Silence

It all started with the crisp green leaves
Transforming into all that gorgeous fall foliage
With the warm breeze, came
The blooms of sakura
Spring for sale
Then came the sudden rainstorms
Summertime sadness
And the thunderstorms
Lightenin
Burnin everything down
The final blow
Just all that’s leftover for takeout is
Disbelief ‘n’ silence
Tears burnin my skin
In fits of anger ‘n’ despair
Goin back is no option
The unspoken questions
With the silent answers
Words and voice
Hauntin me
Did the heart have to break thrice
For you to come flyin back to me
After many many moons
Now I’m reminded how I
Gave all the f***s I had to give
Gave all the chances I had to give
Lockin the door behind me
Keepin to myself
Make no mistake
Me forever
Hauntin your thoughts
Durin the sleepless nights
Alongside the regrets
Of you leavin me
Doesn’t it hurt so bad?
Doesn’t it hurt so good?
At least I had the last laugh
I speak into
The silence of my own bedroom
Hopefully you can love yourself enough
To love someone else again

Grub To Go

black crow struts in grass,
   selects plump white grub, departs-
      takeout is ready

Purgatory

Forty days and forty nights
Christ spent wandering in the desert 
but it’s now over ten times that, 
four hundred twenty days and 
counting in this isolation desert
cut off to varying degrees from
contact with other humans with
remote meetings getting more
remote and a takeout dinner
from a fancy restaurant is just
a takeout dinner, although live 
streaming music and plays
help a little but ain’t really 
all that live and I have a 
desperate nostalgia to return 
to what was my mundane 
existence before, while the 
days of our lifes trickle like 
water from a leaking faucet
as I as I sit on my back porch 
bench denied your touch 
as we are apart, suspended, 
between heaven and hell.

Togo

Fading light of day
robins search for a last meal
summertime takeout

Several More Horrendious Horn Haiku

April is poetry month.

james horn is my name
prepare return is my game
much fortune and fame

were isolated
result of educated
specialists stated

hard to bare the course
make sure laws are all in force
after we endorse

one more round of beer
poetry month is now here
virus disappear

slept on my pillow
did dream of weeping willow
waves that did billow

we were deep in doubt
and should start using takeout
with flu had big bout

Jim Horn

I could have entered them
separately.

A Day In the Life of Shirlene

A Day in The Life Of Shirlene
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015

Stroking her hair was the morning sun,
Early rising, just to grub her chickens;
Time is scant for getting all things done,
So, throughout the day her step quickens.

It's do the laundry, then tidy the house,
While seeking time for a run to the store;
If things should slip she feels like a louse,
And then, its pick up the kids before four;

Her smart phone acts as an aide of sort,
Where stored is appointments for her day.
Keeping her abreast of times to report,
But the unexpected, at times, always delay.

She studies the time and finding it tricky,
Hurriedly plans an evening meal to eat;
But then in a flash she calls her man Ricky,
Requesting takeout since both are just beat.

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