Imagine perching in that huge gum tree;
I would fly and see for miles,
just like that currawong that slides
between the misty air and dewy grass.
I wonder if that currawong,
inside his bony-birdie-head,
would ever wish that he could be
a walkie-talkie-kid like me?
A coworker and I stand
along a lone Nebraska highway
far from home.
I stand on one end
of a work zone-
a co-worker stands
on the other
communication by walkie talkie
to direct traffic
as it comes and goes.
A road that’s broken
must be made whole
as life bubbles forth
from underground streams
in an unfamiliar place.
Work inches forward
until the sun bleeds
into the sky
when night conversations
friendships are sought
in each other
as we ponder
our time and place
and a light in the parking lot
shines like the moon.
March 19, 2023
I am walking along ready to take on Mrs. M’s class.
She can be a jerk, a meanie, she is a pretty big a...
Along the way I see throw up all over the hall floor.
I use my walkie to call the custodian to come to this door.
Mrs. M. walks out of her room about forty feet down.
Demands to know why I am not there. She’s a clown.
I say “I am guarding this mess so no one steps in it.”
She says “I cannot be late to my meeting,” She is such a sh….
Then she says “There is the nurse. She can take care of that.”
She gives me a quick instruction, and she’s gone, the young bat.
When she returns she begins screaming about that and this.
I don’t care if I ever again work with this mean uppity Miss.
Was the Christmas tree left?
Dumped? Or gently placed?
No one knew, for elves are sneaky.
They wanted the animals to wonder.
The owl flew down for a closer look.
The deer and the fox blinked at each other.
Could they maintain a civil air?
The rabbit hopped over to declare “placed”.
Raccoon kept silent, looking at the pretty decorations.
If they needed to un-decorate it, he would be their pigeon.
The elves giggled, reading the animals’ thoughts.
“Get back up here!” Santa declared over their walkie-talkie.
Birthday presents for the grands
Are challenging to find,
Unless you locate something
After which they’ve always pined.
If not, you search online until
Your eye is caught by what
Might be, if you are lucky,
Just the thing that hits the spot.
For my grandchild’s seventh birthday,
What I found for her, in pink,
Was a set of walkie-talkies;
They were ordered in a blink.
Her birthday is tomorrow
But we tried them out today.
They checked off all the boxes
As we put them into play.
Check! For something new and fun.
Check! A breeze to use.
Check! They’re pink and have a light
So they’ll be hard to lose.
It’s very gratifying
When excitement you have earned,
Unlike my husband’s birthday gift,
Which has to be returned.
Sunset spill,
Evening thrill,
Serenade,
Creeping shade,
Summer stroll,
Frog on bole,
Moonlit trees,
Pleasant breeze,
Hoot owl hour,
Rose power,
Rich red Mars,
Porch guitars,
Wild chatter,
Lavender,
Limpid moon,
Cry of loon,
Starry park,
Plum hued dark,
Hued flora,
Scent aura,
Teal ducks quack,
Love is back!
Grassy knoll,
Dreams unfold.
without moving anything but my eyes I see
a mouse pad, computer, power cord, phone
fork, knife, spoon, half eaten chunk of meatloaf
stapler, scissors, Clorox wipes
Jason Reynolds and Ibram X Kendi’s books Stamped
without leaving my seat at my desk
I see two bottles of hand sanitizer, my work badge,
a red cloth face mask I am tired of wearing
an address book with a multitude of squiggles
which no one else could read
they might possibly think I was mentally ill if they got closer
by turning only my head to the right I see two notebooks
three pens, one of them happily has red ink
an oversized yellow bottle of water I continually knock over
a roll of blue tape, and a walkie talkie that needs plugged in
I am looking to the left now. Three posters
One says “Effort and Perseverance are the Keys to Success”
There is a blue chair with an ugly hexagonal print in yellow
A bookcase with kinesthetic sand which I love as much as the children
Welcome to an Elementary School Counselor’s Office
The Marmite Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
Written 8-17-2021
I could go anywhere with my walkie
I’m talking walkie talkie
long before I knew I needed a dog
(anxiety is funny that way
striking when you want to play
locked in a cage with your brain set to flog)
I could go anywhere and talk to anyone
else paralyzed sitting alone on my bum
sorry this poem sucks I have to go walk my dog
Sorry officer, the old lady apologizes as she is stopped for speeding.
Her Chevy is rocking out to seventies music
A debonair old geezer in a sports car blows past them
going at least a hundred and ten
Officer looks exasperated.
Gets on walkie talkie
No answer.
Jumps on motorcycle and takes off
Woman texts her husband “Thanks sweetie!”
Violet used a walker
Who was followed by a stalker
Violet was old
But very wise and bold
As she asked for help, through her walkie-talker
War taught of the need for nutrition and good health,
and so Penicillin was first used on mass scale,
tin food was too, like never before,
that pill when you’re ill distributed through war.
Wellington Boots were first used with army suits,
when invaders wanted Greek ground democracy was found.
Those chemical compounds taught of nuclear doom,
while v2 rockets put man on the moon,
engines on planes were made safer,
now airplanes fly in lanes tracked on radar.
This website you’re on and the E-mails you get,
be sure you know, war made the internet,
talking of war that’s what walkie talkies were first for,
war gives us advanced things we only dreamt of before.
And I stress, without war we'd know less,
but the best lesson of them all, is, don’t go to war.
Grandma, look I am flying on your broom.
Where would you be going on such a fine
Afternoon?
Be careful that's an heirloom.
To your bedroom
To get my costume.
Grandma, look I am flying on your broom.
Well! One thing is for sure you have plenty of
Elbow room.
Did you find your black pantaloons?
Be careful that's an heirloom.
Before we go trick or treating you will need to
Use the powder room.
Once your outfit is on there won't be another
Opportune.
Grandma, look I am flying on your broom.
I assume
You bought your walkie talkies so we can
Commune.
Be careful that's an heirloom.
Grandma, why does daddy fume?
Never you mind. Halloween will be over soon.
Grandma, look I am flying on your broom
Be careful that's an heirloom.
THE MAELSTROM OUTSIDE THE MALL
Mellowing out at the mall,
Amidst the short and the tall
Shelves, filled with shirts and shoes,
A mixture of reds and a lot of blues.
Leaving was like a treacherous storm.
A sweeping car with a demonic form.
As I beeped my horn, he ignored the bell.
Almost hit on the driver side, we both would yell.
This wild-eyed bat, wouldn’t pull up his car.
Who knows why he took his dereliction way too far.
I couldn’t open the door. Trapped for a minute or five.
Armed with a walkie-talkie, a timely hero would arrive.
Finally I can loosen my panicked grip of fear.
Leave with the anxious shirt and shoes I wear.
I lighten the curses that plummet from my lips.
For sure, this visit to the outlet mall was quite a trip.
3/29/2018
Silence is golden, they say.
They don't tell you that gold is not a bubble but a shatterproof cage:
a prison sanctuary for fragile birds.
They don't tell you that gold is a burden to be carried, always:
as impenetrable from within as from the outside.
They don't tell you that gold is a glorified fun house mirror:
distorting every action to perfection.
They don't tell you that gold is a broken walkie-talkie:
a one-way filter for words.
They don't tell you that gold is a mask:
so that where there is a soul in need of consolation
there appears only intricately curved metal:
the mesmerizing, deflective, flawless, and thoroughly non-human gold
that you yourself have wrought.
I remember those
Dented tin cans
The string communication
Of my childhood.
We lived in first story houses,
Telling their fourth or fifth
As we stood on the other side
Of a world without the grey.
Eyes screwed shut,
We shouted excitement into
Our fathermade walkie talkies
Chicken noodle
Clam Chowder
We were always running wild
Chasing what we already had
Our adventure and
That’s gone
You said
Life ends at seventeen.
But here we are,
Here you are,
My childhood love.
Standing so close,
One string length away to
Touch your hand.
That must have seemed longer,
Once.
What would it take of me,
From me.
To press the still sharp edge,
Tasting of clam chowder,
The ocean that you hear in
The echos,
Into my cracked upper lip
And reach out through
These shells of us
Let these ruined wires say
What I cannot.
“Hello?”
Means
I miss you.
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