Uncertain Strangers
More and more often
he hears himself say
“I’m sorry; have we met?”
to people he’s known for years.
But he knows who she is;
recognizes her instantly
whenever he spots her
at his favorite corner café.
She’s pretty sure she’s still single
but she always springs for his coffee
smiling her way out the door
and he always blows her a kiss.
—————[|||]—————
QNv 30
~ meeting ~
———[||]———
(Huge thanks to Miz Q & The Bunny for a monthful of some really fine triggerwork!)
The onliest thing I want
underneath my ribs
is some deep-fried potatoes
—————[|||]—————
An inverted senryu for
Tuesday Twiglet #255
~ underneath my ribs ~
———[||]———
It’s Quadrille Monday again at the dVerse Poets Pub; time to create a 44-word poem.
This week, we’re asked to create a poem using the word “Crown” or some version of it.
Thanks to De Jackson for hosting and getting us started.
———[||]———
Disciple’s Folly
All crowns lose their luster,
tarnished by undue adulation.
Unmerited adoration is common.
Masses will gather on mountains
or under balconies; will submit,
craving leadership, enlightenment,
or even salvation, to no avail.
All tales told are a lie.
A crown is just another myth.
—————[|||]—————
dVerse Poets Pub
Quadrille Monday #141
~ Crown ~
———[||]———
Mr. Cyclicality
It’s all he can do
to wind himself up
every morning
haul his ass out of bed
do the meds thing
the food thing
the news thing
the work thing
the work thing
the wait thing
the work thing
the quit thing
the hope thing
the home thing
the bed thing
the rewind
recharge
redo
redo
redo
—————[|||]—————
QNv 29
~ the wind up ~
———[||]———
Are You Kidding Me?
“Write what I say,” you say.
“Write what?” I say.
“What I say,” you say again.
“What?”
“What do you mean, ‘What?’ ”
“I mean ‘Why?’ ”
“Why what?’
“Why write what you say?”
“Why not?”
“Ummm….”
“Oh that’s good. Write that down, too.”
—————[|||]—————
QNv 28
~ Unanswerable ~
———[||]———
Reunion
There’s a photo of me, taken
just before the graduation
I only just barely remember,
doing my very best
to keep from falling over:
leaning, vacant-eyed and sweaty
against the ratty living-room recliner
I also just barely remember.
It’s like watching an old movie:
Some things change; some don’t.
—————[|||]—————
QNv 27
~ The Lookback ~
———[||]———
Way Back When
They did this and that
every now and then
but nobody really cared
Most of the time
nobody even noticed
Even now, decades later
nobody looks back
Nobody looks forward either.
Same old same old.
—————[|||]—————
QNv 26
~ no news here ~
———[||]———
Sevenling (pain’s a pain)
Pain is a pain, whether it’s
ache or throb or twinge, or
day or night, or all, or both.
And no one’s immune; not
the doctors or the patients,
or even the anesthesiologists.
Upside: nothing lasts forever.
—————[|||]—————
Poets and Storytellers United
Friday #4
~ Pain In Ink ~
———[||]———
The Improv
“Quickly,” she said, “Write something about a hat.”
But he wasn’t much of a prompt-responder poet.
“I don’t think I’ve got it in me,” he replied, frowning,
“At least not right off the top of my head.”
—————[|||]—————
QNv 25
~ hat ~
———[||]———
Tomorrow is America’s Turkey Day
so this morning I stripped the bed
and threw the sheets into the washer
so I’d have something to be thankful for.
If only you’d come home again,
even if only for some turkey and a nap…
(though I wouldn’t need a nap because
I always see you when I’m sleeping.)
But if only you’d come home again
I’d throw a Turkey Day Parade; I’d
re-reset the clocks; I might even start
singing your favorite Christmas carol.
Scrambled, Not Fried 