Watching: Television

Watching: Television

I have a really kind TV,
It loves me; does its best
to make things easy:

Time doesn’t matter.
When it spots me dozing
half-way through my
favorite sitcom rerun,
it lowers its volume
lets me drift away
then waits five minutes
and shuts itself off.

And don’t ask me why
(loyal servitude, I guess)
but it watches over me
listens to my snoring
all night long or
half the night long
or on and off until

first thing in the morning
(five minutes before
my alarm sets me off)
it turns itself on again
shows me The Morning News
where the sitcom used to be.

And it knows where I should shop.
And it tells me what to buy.
And it turns its volume up
when it thinks that I might cry.

Thanks, Bud

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 “Wrap” or some word that incorporates it.

Thanks to Mish for hosting and getting us started.


Zig Zag

Gift Wrap

I never really thought of
Zig-Zags as wrapping paper
until he pinched some off,
rolled it up, handed it over
saying, “Here, man; this’ll
totally blow you away.”
he was right; it did. It was
the best (and smallest) gift
I ever got.

dVerse Poets Pub
Quadrille Monday #156
~ Wrap ~




‘This won’t take long’ they told him
wheeling his gurney into surgery.

‘Okay’ he said, ‘Oh! Did I mention…’
But it was already too late.

Mumble. Mask. Gas. Mumble. 
Needle. Dark. Mum.


Fandango’s One Word Challenge
~ Counterproductive ~


Now and Then, Now

Now and Then, Now  (a tanka sequence)

Eighth day of heat wave:
Life under overhead fans
—if you call that life—
Soon enough, we’ll be snowed in 
and be begging for baseball.

Meanwhile: ice cream cones
folding chairs beside the lake
—whatever it takes—
Take a couple photographs
(you know you’ll be needing them)

Ragtag Daily Prompt
~ Snapshot ~




I won’t don’t want to can’t anymore.
I’m sorry if it’s still I’m still it’s not clear
I mean I think I’m, ummm…but am I?

Amy’s butt was something or
something else, or else
how the hell would I know or
care, or care to remember this:

Carol-Ann’s butt is behind me now
and now I get to look back at
it, back at them, back there
where I’m caring to remember
even though I can’t don’t want to but…

am I he who remembers who I am
or who am I? Or should I be an or,
like, “Well it’s him or…” I’m for
forgetting; for getting it all altogether
back there behind me like ummm…
what the hell was Helen’s name again?

Nice butt on her, too, but

Our Last Night Together At Sea

Our Last Night Together At Sea

I’m already more than a little tipsy,
barely treading water, drifting
toward an inevitable hangover,
inevitable regret.
                             I’ve had enough,
again, at last, this one last time,
to know it’s time to call it quits;
to swim toward the sober shoreline;
to move while movement’s still possible,
avoiding yet another riptide oblivion;
to wave goodbye and leave her behind,
she who always swims toward blackout;
she who knows no limit.

Fandango’s One Word Challenge
~ Sober ~



She looks at him like
he knows something about work;
like he’s not there because he’s
hungry and it’s lunchtime, but
because it’s a warm place to sit,
to avoid the sub-zero two-lane
he’s been hitching down since dawn,
leaving behind the ancient barn
and his early morning milkings.

She watches him eat
like the food’s not really food
but just another boring chore
needing to be done.

What she doesn’t see is how he’s
watching her right back, watching
how she always recommends the
apple crisp for dessert; always
offers to serve it up a la mode;
how she always smiles, totaling
up the check, mentally calculating
her tip, thinking about how she’s
one more tiny step closer to her
Caribbean Dream Home. 

Their eyes never really meet
until his hand brushes hers
at the register, and they smile
their kind and genuine smiles
and go their separate ways,
ready for their changes.

dVerse Poets Pub
Open Link Night (Live!)
~ Join The Fun ~


Something In The Air

(I was a little stumped for a decent response to today’s FOWC (‘Gas’) so I decided to re-post my 10-word story, originally published (online) in March 2019 by Potato Soup Journal.)


The Medium’s The Message

“Excuse me,” he said, not realizing his fart was inaudible.

Fandango’s One Word Challenge
~ gas ~

FOWC  potato-soup-2152254__340

Front Porch / Wednesday’s Forever


Not All Sound Is Noise

All he hears these days is birdsong, the rustle of breezy leaves, and the fountain’s trickle. These days, all he cares to hear is the trickling fountain, songbirds, and leaves rustling in the breeze. Soon enough, he thinks, all of these will be gone even though he knows he will always hear them.

long after everything fades
what is loved remains

Go Dog Go Café
Haibun Wednesday
~ noise ~



She caught my eye.
I winked.
She blinked and missed it.

She turned.
She walked away.
I wanted her back.

Not just her back.
I wanted it all.
Everything about her.

She turned a corner.
She became a memory.
I’ll never forget.

I’d turned a corner.
I was lost without her.
I closed my eyes.

I could still see her.

dVerse Poets Pub
Tuesday Poetics
~ Fractaliciously Speaking ~