

Balloons
Hold
Your
Obsessions
Like a
Balloon
with its string in
Your hands.
Watch
Your balloon, that
Nothing needles it--
While
Your
Hot-air balloon
Deflates.
Note: This poem is inspired by my fight with a couple obsessions and having acknowledged that protecting my obsessions at all costs really lets down the rest of my life :( :)
Also, if you like this poem, you may like my poem, "Once Birthed, Eternal"
Have a good day!
The Bridge
You told me to hold the railing
But it was wet
My hands were cold
I didn't want to
So, you had us hold hands
It was firm
It was hated
I didn't want you
Then, I pushed you into
Where it is wet
Where it is cold
I am deaf to you
Slop-Tot
The children's book "Still More Stories From Grandma's Attic" by Arleta Richardson features the word, "Slop-tot''.
It means, a child prone to sloppiness.
And, it's an actually spirit-lifting word of self-deprecation when it hurts to call yourself stupid:
POV: you're in the kitchen doing dishes, and you knock over the soap dispenser; soap all over the kitchen towel and stained cabinets. You're so mad! Then, you say to yourself, "I'm being a slop-tot; stop being a slop-tot.'' While you're banging things around, "Slop-tot-Slop-tot-Slop-tot" rounds through your head; you're surprised to find yourself fighting not to smile. Then you smile. Slop-tot is irresistible.
(Slop-tot may nowadays have a different meaning than it did in the time period of the book, though I've not found any evidence of such in my cursory internet search :)
Task of a Poet IS
To make
You
Say
That's my pain...
That's my joy...
That I don't understand now, but I hope/fear I will
And that's someone coping with it all
So
I can too
(If you like this poem, you may like my poem "Once Birthed, Eternal")
You Incorrigible Reader
Dear Reader, I wish I could tell you that you're going to survive this.
For you, Reader, I forgo using my last wish to provide for my hungry family of Fannie and sixteen children, to get a job better than at the mines, and to prolong the life of my aging mother. Not to mention, freeing myself from...this nightmarish lamp....
This screen that you are reading is scored with the curse of the genie Bueligun, condemning all Readers to his lamp. I've disabled that curse, but my own hand writing this is none to steady...Bueligun is coming back, he says, to feast--
And now...now how do you feel about your curiosity, you incorrigible Reader you, whose inevitable sight of this screen has condemned me to die!!
Hope Is Saying
Hope
Is
Saying
All right
I can dash my past plans
On the unfamiliar road ahead of me
As
Life's about
Expansive joy and laughter
On more roads than one
One road only is the most direct path
Though, where are we arriving but death
Unfamiliar roads are time-giving detours
But that shouldn't keep you from
Taking unfamiliar roads at a run
(If you like this poem, you may like my haikus in "Once Birthed, Eternal")
Parody of “Little Miss Muffet” Nursery Rhyme
Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a bucket
Eating some birds in soufflé
Along came a tiger
Who sat down beside her
So she gave it a buffet
And decided to stuff it
And put it on her wall for display.
(I've published this on at least one other website, which does not have exclusive rights over this piece)
I Say
People say that bad things happen at midnight.
I say, if you're awake at midnight, then bad things have already happened.
Regret
Someone is just discovering what you left behind
And you know you hadn't done what you could with what you had.
It's like, you're ahead of them in a dinghy
While they're in a speedboat
They'll catch up fast
And then, you can't help but wonder if sea monsters are real
Monsoons and Addictions
To be not waste land
Of ''can't stop''s, I sweat monsoons
I drown anchored thoughts