Poem 16/30 – The First World Problems of a Poet


I’ve got a kid who won’t sleep unless she’s next to me
And I’ve finally got away from the other three
The lights with their glare
And the laptop’s downstairs
So it’s by phone in a dark bedroom for me.


Poem 14/30 – In Case of Migraine


from any unkind remarks

if you should even bother opening your mouth.
anything you say will be misconstrued
no matter how well meaning.
you’ve been warned

from slapping on that cologne.
or air freshener
and definitely don’t empty any ashtrays
just don’t even smoke

Do not complain
that the house is a wreck
the dishes are not done
that the food is not warm enough
that I’ve crawled back into bed and am hiding under the pillow

Entertain yourself
as long as the volume is down
or better yet on mute

to everyone
that no one
should cross me

that you are not inconvenienced
by the massive pressure between my ears

Gain bonus points
by rubbing my back
offering me cups of ice water
and coming back with room temperature water when the ice water is refused
straightening up the house

Remain calm
give it time
maybe lots of time
and the migraine will dissappear

Poem 13/30 – Three and a half miles to school and back



I carry Allie’s backpack
it’s the least I can do
and possibly the most
at seven thirty in the morning
the kids go up the bike trail
on scooters and sometimes on bikes
we see the slime of the snails
as they make their way across the expansive sidewalk
it’s cold says Allie
I tell her walk five minutes more and it won’t be
we say the same thing everyday
the older ones stop and wait for us
or they don’t
allie and i enjoy being together
although we miss snuggling
we keep walking
as we promise to make time for a snuggle later in the day
we approach the tunnel
the magical tunnel
allowing us to avoid Irvine Boulevard
and the walk don’t walk signs
and the noise of commuters
the tunnel
we trip trop through like gruff billygoats
we clap
we echo echo echo
we exit our fairy tale world
back to suburbia
another ten minutes to the crossing guard lady
and her hats
will it be purple with a red rose
a baseball cap
a bonnet straight from some prairie
she will smile
or frown
and say you must walk your scooter
I get one kiss and three goodbyes
then I turn around
for the walk home

Poem 12/30 – Tanka for Two


Today’s poem is a tanka, a Japanese form of poetry noted for its form of five lines. The lines of the poem are based on syllables, with the pattern being 5-7-5-7-7. It is preferable if they do not rhyme. While trying to find out more about tankas, I discovered that they were often written as a form of correspondence  limited to these five lines. Often they were written between lovers. I am not one to write love poems, you can see from my poem to my husband yesterday. So I thought I’d take a known duet and rewrite it as a tanka. See if you can figure it out before the end.

We are young they say
and they say we do not know.
Not to discover
Are we until we are old.
This I contradict.

You own me, I you.
Our lodging will be unpaid
They say. I disagree.
Our earnings will be depleted.
Perhaps to this is some truth.

I am certain, yes.
We have acquired many things.
Darling I have you.
I have perennials in spring
And you proudly wear my band.

You make me mirthful
At times when I am blue.
When I am distressed
You are ever by my side.
Alas, your locks are comely.

Your delicate hand
You shall allow mine to hold,
For never there is
Bluff nor knoll we can’t ascend.
We have each other my dear.

You are there for me
To grasp my hand and perceive,
Traverse united,
As well as converse together.
I own your goodnight kisses.

You are there I know
When you grasp me closely.
I am here it’s true,
I will not loosen my grip.
I have you to adore me.

I got you my love.
I got you my sweet beloved.
I got you my dear.
And if you haven’t guessed yet
I got you babe.

Poem 11/30 – I’m Allergic to My Husband


I’m allergic to my husband
This is really not a joke
I’m allergic to dust and
pollen, his cologne, and ,of course, his smoke.

He tries to accommodate me
By smoking in the garden.
My nose it tickles. Oh my, oh me.
When I sneeze, he begs my pardon.

For such a handsome fellow
He really is a dear.
But when the spring winds bellow
I can’t stand it when he’s near.

Poem 10/30 – Roget’s Words to the Wise

ImageThis is gonna be AWESOME.

No, not really.

What’s up with words losing their value these days?
AWESOME and EPIC are so overplayed.
Yet we lose all creativity in how we express
The feelings we so easily suppress.

Some people get stuck on words I’d rather not say
Words that start with F, S, D and even A
I want to propose something that may seem scary.
Let’s purge some words from our vocabulary.

Get out your thesauraus. You’re going to need it,
If you want this to be a project that you will succeed at.

First three words – LOVE, LIKE and HATE –
They are so overused that they lose their weight.
How about ADORE, ADMIRE and ABHOR?
We are just on the A’s, there are so many more.

When something is so GREAT and we call it AMAZING,
We hear that all the time. Let’s try a little rephrasing.
You’ll be so much more expressive with a little revising.

Quick. What’s your reply to the question “How are you?”
It’s a test. Think fast. What will you do?
Refrain from using words like GREAT, HAPPY, FINE.
Dig a little deeper and you’ll be feeling DIVINE.

If you like it, it’s NICE and if you don’t then it’s BAD
These are precisely the words that drove Roget mad.

Can we agree to stop using LITERALLY?
I hear it a million times a day. And SERIOUSLY,
When you start a sentence with YOU KNOW and end it with WHATEVER
Everything in between isn’t automatically clever.

With your jargon expanded, your words will prevail
And FOR SURE your conversations will not be an EPIC FAIL.

You know what I mean?

The Bluebird, by Edwin Abner Poe – from Napowrimo 2010

It’s a lesser known fact that Edgar Allen Poe had a twin brother. They were born in Boston in 1809 to Southern parents, traveling actors “whose status was just a little higher than that of vagabonds”. Edgar and Edwin were orphaned at age 2 when their father abandoned the family and their mother died of consumption; Edgar was taken in and raised by friends of his mother. Edwin was taken in in and raised by friends and family of his father.

The two were as different as night and day. While Edgar Allen wrote short stories and long poems, Edwin Abner wrote long stories and short poems.

Once upon a daydream dearie, while I pondered chuffed and cheery
Over a run of the mill recitation of recollected laughter,
While I proceeded, practically prickling, suddenly there came a trickling,
As of some one gently tickling, tickling at my stockinged feet.
`’Tis some trespasser,’ I uttered, `tickling at my stockinged feet –
Only this and ever after.

And the mirthful merry mutter of each blue feather aflutter
Reshaped me – escaped me with simple delights of a crafter;
And so then, to agitate the elating of my heart, I reposed relating
`’Tis some intruder dancing daftly at my recollected laughter-
Some early intruder dancing daftlyat my recollected laughter; –
This it is, and ever after,’

And a bluebird, never lurching, still is perching, still is perching
On the boulders of my shoulders just above my stockinged feet;
And his song has all the voicing of a voice that is rejoicing,
And the spotlight on him streaming floats his feather on the love seat;
And my heart from out that feather that flies floats on the love seat
So happily ever after!

Poem 9/30 – Frank


I’m sorry I can’t be more straight
But I can’t tell you how I’m feeling.
I try to highlight my other traits.
Humor is so much more appealing
Than showing how ugly and irate
Is the person with whom you are dealing.
I’d rather you fill in the blanks
Than be “FRANK”. No thanks.

Poem 8/30 – Crack the Window


My computer dropped.
The screen had a crack.
My window on the world
Suddenly went black.

Like Homer I went “Doh!”
And then my favorite word. “Crap!”
And down crashed the window
that should have sat on my lap

If it weren’t for the fumbling
Of the tea on the tray,
We wouldn’t have been bumbling.
What more can I say?

What was done was done
To my beloved PC
Before you could count to one.
And I had no warranty.

I sat with a frown
for many a week
Then I finally broke down
with a thought so unique.

I can fix it on my own!
I can take it apart.
Although I’m accident prone
I’m also quite smart.

I found it online
the internet bargain basement
It will soon be mine!
A modestly priced replacement.

In days, the package arrived
And my toolbox was waiting
My laptop will be revived
And I can end this berating.

I’m handy and resourceful
A regular McGyver.
No more being remorseful.
Now get me a screwdriver!

Wow that was snappy!
To think of how I despaired!
And now I’m so happy
That my laptop’s repaired.