Poetry

Away for a day.

He complains.

He wants attention.

You must love him.

His favorite toy to play with.

The worst…

He won’t eat unless someone else is with him!

Errands to run.

Plans get cancelled.

Ceremonies go smoother than expected.

Traffic is horrible.

Stomachs decide to churn.

Calls need to be made.

This mild fever is annoying.

What else could go wrong?

Right, the power could go out.

 

The same few refrains

replayed over and over.

Even if I listen to another

this one may

or may not

decide to stay.

Sometimes I get two competing ones

vying for my attention.

Silence, blessed silence

is oh so rare in my head!

Delicious candy.

Temptations galore.

The lure of the chocolate

vying with caramel and sugar.

Potato chips for the salty sensation.

All in my stomach

is its planned destination.

Sorry kid!

White flakes drift down.

It is a cold one this night.

The spider webs are laden with snow.

The children are excited,

as they bundle up under their costumes.

The parents sigh

and look for mittens and scarves.

After all candy waits for everyone.

Disappeared.

Gone without a trace.

All my work.

My beautiful poem.

My promise to myself.

One a day!

All because I was rushed

and wasn’t paying attention.

Now my words

are lost in the ethernet

Forever.

I’m not a genius.

I can’t do cartwheels.

Anymore.

I haven’t done any drawing in ages.

My grades were always mediocre.

I was never good enough

to make the baseball team.

My marriage failed.

My kids are troubled.

I do not wear make-up.

I am not good at anything.

Except maybe trying.

Trying to be a better me.

She flies around the room

ignoring my nagging.

I find myself on repeat.

The energy I expend

on getting her ready

I could use for more useful things.

Like drinking my coffee.

I just hope I can resist

the impulse to ignore her

and go back o bed!

I think I found the one.

I’ll write about meat!

No , meat Eaters!

Wait, that’s a catchy tune.

I’ll write about that.

No, I can’t replicate the tune.

My kids!

They are being funny.

Hmmm, that’s an in joke.

Todays poem may just end up being lame.

Dehydrated.

A crispy corpse.

Withered, sere.

Skin taut.

Hollowed eyed look.

The old pumpkin

is finally ready

for the coming festivity!