Gone digital
begun/beginning
Networking with me-self
Can't find a full-stop
to stop
What yer looking at fish-face???
Yer know
since yesterday
I can't find me thumbs
falling feet first
in-ter sub-monkey skills
I need more,
more white widgets
and black toggles-
got the wobbles, a bit keyed-up
Mind knitting its own computer
flashes of clever clogs,
clumps of soft-drive
in me ear-holes
got no cookies cooking
just a blinking memory
Dot-dash-board doodling,
screening plasma for bugs
and sneezy-bits.
Me lights are ticking
think I'm thinking
Blimey, will you look at that!
I got a virtual nose to pick
feeling sick of it
even though
me lid is plastic
Beep...
Categories:
widgets, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Pens, and pen knives,
minor gadgets and gizmos,
chopsticks
old zippo lighters,
motheaten books
that crumble an old-fashioned wisdom
into the mush of a quaint twaddle,
words to muddle over
on a day locked into a raincloud.
He collected all sorts -
mostly useless things,
mostly the unimportant, the worthless,
gathering together
all the small curiosities of the bygone,
things often broken and long discarded.
His poetry is a collection also,
a jumble of oddments and offbeat widgets,
stuff he finds hazily dreaming
beside unpaved roads.
Categories:
widgets, poetry,
Form: Free verse
"Like the silence that screams, cursing solitude
... whispers of faith sing patiently with prayers"
Regina McIntosh
IMAGINATIONS OF SOLITUDE
The scream, his palms unleashing Danse Macabre.
The sinister skeletons tapping digits
against the ebon glow of candelabra.
The sinister skeletons tapping digits.
Ten bore into his human brain, the echoes
of full violin’s disquieted widgets.
Ten bore into his human brain. The echoes
releasing...releasing a wing and a pray’r -
elongated shadowbrush of El Greco.
Releasing...releasing a wing and a pray’r,
those fierce flexuous hues - the Spirit of grace.
The phantasm flees - a disturbed boneyard despairs.
Those fierce flexuous hues - the Spirit of grace.
His countenance resounding to see God’s face.
1/28/2021
HEARTS UNIVERSE
SPONSOR: REGINA MCINTOSH
HMS - 11 syllables each line
Painting The Scream by Edvard Munch
Categories:
widgets, angst, christian, emotions, hope,
Form: Terza Rima
Well-established wonder-stricken wayfarers will work with wizards,
who worry worm-eating warblers will wander by with Wyandottes.
Witchdoctors wallowing with Weiss beer will widen willowy wonky
widow’s walks. Who? What? When? Why? Why not?
Wonderful wearisome woolly Willies whose wrinkly wiggly whatchamacallits will weigh whizzing wingfish whipped wildly within Widow Williams’s whirlybird’s window wells. Who? What? When? Why? Why not?
Why wayfarers? Witches? Wizards, Wolverines? Witchdoctors? Well, woks, workbenches, wobbly wickiups, were wildly wanting whiffle ball’s wishful wildcats, which is why we were willing to wind up wolves, women, and worst-case woodcocks into worthy wayfarer’s winter wineglass widgets within wonderful, wise-cracking
woodland’s wee-folk who reside within wizardly wigwams.
Who? What? When? Where? Why? Why not?
Warm whoopee wayfarers welcome willing witchdoctor's whizzing whatchamcallits on Wednesdays with wonderfulness.
Categories:
widgets, word play,
Form: Alliteration
My sister Bridget loves her widgets,
the box-set goes beyond her digits,
never mind, she is addicted,
that's not what we predicted.
To save money, she tries to convince,
as no TV licence does she subscribe,
but a million box-sets no word of a lie.
It's ironing I need the boxes for,
it piles up from the floor,
her lies galore, we try to ignore.
Twelve hours a day she watches gore,
neglecting those at her core,
she simply can't fit in anymore.
But that's okay cause life's a chore,
it's box-sets, so I'm not a bore,
Hustle, Spook's behind closed door.
NCIS, Gibbs isn't for me,
nor is the notorious box-set Glee,
It's Grey's Anatomy, that's fine with me.
Bones, a forensic scientist I am,
Shield is the agent I want to be,
but ironing is my destiny.
I shame myself through box-set guilt,
instead I should be making a quilt,
but on the sofa I tend to lilt.
My son is home, husband too,
there's no time for box-set glue,
a family I know, we are but true.
Categories:
widgets, humor, irony, silly, sister,
Form: Free verse
Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass.
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are.
Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment.
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers,
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.
Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13
Categories:
widgets, age, allegory, analogy, art,
Form: Free verse
Wrinkled, worn, and weather-beaten
one old hat sits a loft a dusty shelf.
A witness to individual history,
a vision of days gone by
of both good and bad times,
a garment of many memories.
Like a King's crown,
the hat once sat cocked to the right
over a stern, but wise brow.
Well used and sweat stained,
but worn with dignity and pride
by one unyielding individualist.
A common man by all accounts
of uncommon quality and character.
A man who never lost focus
on the true widgets of life
even when it was at a cost.
A man who once owned:
a pocket full of dreams,
a desire for pure freedom,
a true lust for life,
and one old hat.
Categories:
widgets, life,
Form: Free verse
I got myself a secret..
SHHH!
I got me a secret,
My phone is full of widget,
One of my widgets is a secret...
A safe for all my secrets..
777pass me a biscuit.
No one knows my secrets.
SHHH!
LOL~ ;-) THIS IS NOT MY ORDINARY WRITE....
LOL~ ;-) I THINK I'M GOING THROUGH
. WRITERS BLOCK OR MENOPAUSE
Don't worry,, i'll be back to post a better poem.....
I'm only kidding, i'm here on the soup, closing one of my contest....
Thank you.... have fun,,,, thinking what secrets I WOULD HIDE**
Categories:
widgets, confusion, me,
Form: Dramatic Verse
Mushroom clouds cover the planet
And deadly viruses to advance the plan
An obsolete species draws its last breath
The dust settles on the skulls of man
Souls free to soar the heights
From the direction of alien minds
Too emotional to appreciate the splendor
For our unreasonably fear-based kind
The repopulation of the Earth
With a half-hybrid stoic people
Eyes as big as those we've all seen
In the tabloids that made us chuckle
Factories for test-tube breeding
As operational as an assembly line
Producing state-of-the-art organic widgets
DNA mixed with another alien bloodline
Souls sucked out of the atmosphere
Into new bodies we are embedded
Now able to control our impulses
The Neanderthal gene extracted
Like an employee of the month
Doing my job as been instructed
I have a sudden deja vu
From something beautifully sculpted
I notice an exceptional female
Some how I feel a connection
As if in some way I have known her
Feeling something called 'inspiration'
I follow her with like a puppy
Then she turns to look at me
All four enormous eyes soften
And we continue our beautiful telepathy
Categories:
widgets, funny, love, science fiction,
Form: Quatrain
Harlots on Harleys
Barbies on broomsticks
Midgets on widgets
Buddha on Broadway
Leaders in leotards
Players in playpens
Twinkies in Slinkies
Christ in Cabaret
Temptation of teddies
Tyranny of toupees
Ecstasy of ecstasy
Yahoo of Yahweh
Widows with whiskey
Yoda with yen
Saviors with favors
Zeros with Zen
Categories:
widgets, allegory, funny, introspection, life,
Form: Quatrain