Hammering poets

Loud percussive words
tyrannosaurus rex having sex
he roared, they roared, we cried
coaxing quiet words onto quiet white pages
with quiet lines
they clapped and roared
another surged towards the microphone
booming f..ck and sh..t and others
to shock and awe and cringe, we cringed
in the corner with dried up pens and crumpled
papers, we quietly gathered our things
and left quietly so as to not disturb
the roaring crowds, the crackling
microphone.

Ah Google!

Ah Google
your antics in China, changing blue skies to orange,
monks to beggars, monasteries to city halls.
Ah Google,
no longer allowing me to post a picture
from my computer, must use GOOGLE product,
Picasa land, leave me alone where you ask for
names and information,
all to sell to the Chinese parked in
Tibetan parking lots across from
Mexican restaurants.

only words

only words
circles interrupted by lines
dots, curves that mean
nothing until joined into
the most profound, or least
and we wonder that we pore
over every newspaper article
as if it changed our lives when
we get up afterwards, brush our
teeth, rinse the coffee cup and
move into our day.

the other parent

the other parent
is not here so we can talk about them
their faults, their foibles, their awkwardness
how they love you in their own flawed way,
how I love you in my own flawed way,
how awkward I can be repeating myself
over and over and you've heard it
all before but I am not the other parent
right now, I am the only parent
when I hold you in my arms
and kiss your forehead as if
you were still my little
girl.

Matlab Mania

we sit here cozy with our computers
two versions of Matlab , one modern for her
an old one, like me, is on my screen.
she comments on how bad the code is,
I wonder what the code is even saying.
she blocks out large sections of code and
hits delete,  I gather the discarded letters
and construct a poem.

empty chairs

the chairs are empty
outside the House Chambers.
no one is there for us, the ones
who pay taxes, who raise children,
who attend PTA meetings,
who show up when it counts.
it counts now and the chairs
are empty as they hide behind
their ineptitude and politics.

22 minutes

 

shoes dancing over packed snow

glistening in sunshine

why not another minute

on this glorious day

bare hands gripping mittens

no longer needed

my hat pushed high on my forehead

a smile on my face

it's a beautiful day

 

(I'm on week 6, run 3 of a running program called couch to 5k and this was my longest run yet...my goal is to run to work which is exactly 5 km)