November 18, 2008 – 8:45 pm
Now please, dear readers, please don’t be alarmed,
and hopefully not too disappointed if that’s your take.
The reputation of any persons won’t here be harmed,
nor any occurances or events will this story partake,
and you’ll not be reading about porn for goodness sake.
But you’ll learn about trash, more than you wanted to know,
and if you prefer the term “garbage”, it’s still apropos.
In the United States at least, trash is a growing affliction,
each of us, at home and at work, creating 4.5 pounds a day
of a commodity we’d as soon not have, without contradiction.
A 70 year old has generated 50 tons of trash, says one survey,
as much as 10 African bull elephants together would weigh.
And, although recycling trash in the US has steadily grown,
two-thirds still wind up in a landfill or incinerator it’s known.
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November 14, 2008 – 7:37 pm
In the United States, in the year 1929, the Great Depression
wrought severe financial crisis and hardship throughout the land.
Even those previously rich awakened to meet monetary repression
and ate from soup lines, while others, too proud in them to stand,
leapt from a skyscraper, their mind’s last decision and command.
In the state of Ohio, the then tiny farming town of Westerville
is today one of the largest suburbs of Columbus, Ohio’s capitol city.
Life there continued normally in 1929, escaping the Depression, until
in late November, 1931, it finally hit the town and it wasn’t pretty,
but Westerville’s town fathers in no way simply wallowed in pity.
Beset with a multitude of problems, their local bank topped the list,
as The Bank of Westerville had run drastically short of cash
and Ohio’s banking superintendent shut it down with an iron fist,
becoming one of 5,000 US banks failing from the Depression’s bash.
But the town of 2,900 needed a bank, if it was to survive the crash.
November 12, 2008 – 7:40 pm
Last night I tried my best to call my friend Sue
I didn’t have anything better to do
But not even once could I get through
It could be she’s sick with a dose of the flu
But I feel I’m being ignored, it seems to be true
But as to why that would be I haven’t a clue
All I know is that it’s making me blue
So today I took action, and right on cue
To pay Sue back was rightfully due
My attorney said “She won’t chat with you?
We’ll fix her little wagon, let’s sue Sue,
After which her dollars will be only a few”
Her cute face then would turn a bright red hue
And she would stick to me like Elmer’s glue
Sue’s not like some dumb monkey from the zoo
Surely she wouldn’t want a law suit to ensue
I’ll bet she’ll talk with me now. . . . Wouldn’t you?
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Poet’s Note: It won’t surprise you to learn this
poem is written in a style known as “monorhyme”,
November 4, 2008 – 10:58 am
Bruce thought he heard it, he was fairly certain, but not sure
of the chirping of small yellow birds at his window screen.
And though it would be a while before his alarm clock would lure,
the birds did the trick, he leaped from bed like he did as a teen.
Bruce hadn’t felt so good in so many countless years,
and his wife already had put breakfast on the table.
The birds had awakened her also, or so it appears,
and for a moment he felt surely he was living a fable.
The omelet was the best he could ever remember,
and he wondered if coffee had ever tasted this great,
if it did any spark of it’s memory was a long dead ember.
Bruce ate eagerly, then fought temptation to lick his plate.
He hopped in the shower to get ready for work,
wanting to surprise the boss with his earliest arrival yet.
He turned on the water with his customary jerk,
and the spray was immediately perfect, as if preset.
October 30, 2008 – 5:55 pm
Poet’s Note: Names of American TV
“soap operas”, both those of the present
and those of the past that you may or may
not recognize, are Capitalized. I hope you
enjoy this free verse work.
Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman (repeated a second time for the
benefit of those with reading and/or hearing impediments) was
more than just a little concerned. Fact is, she was worried out
of her mind, her life out of control, in truth worried because
everyone and every object, everything she came into close
proximity with, within a few miles or so, seemed to morph
into one big mess.
Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman was convinced that, as certain
As the World Turns, her conceited husband, who considered
himself a charter member of The Bold and the Beautiful, was
having an affair. Every evening, before leaving the house, he
spent a couple of hours primping and preening before the
mirror in the master bathroom, blocking Mary Hartman,
Mary Hartman from using it, often at times when it was
rather urgent to do so.
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