Thursday, July 29, 2010

To Emily

I walk and see an ant
And suddenly think of you
Then grab for my phone
To send a text or two

Howdy-do greetings
And a colon close parens
Perhaps ensuing talk
Of Netherlandish hens

You say you've just read
From your favorite poet
And I question who it is
Though I already know it

Later you tell a tale
Of Chester Author, Ol' man
"Arthur" I point out
Then speak of West's Batman

Conversations with you, Emily
Always turn a bit weird
But always and forever
I hold them so revered

Wednesday, July 28, 2010


For years you were put down,
Cut back and hidden from all.
Now at last you come around,
Life without you I can't recall.

I'm so glad to have you,
Imperfections galore.
I'm invigorated, new,
Not quite who I had been before.

Awe you bring from children,
A teen and adult too.
With you I feel change begun,
A different self's grand debut.

You and I, here and now,
We seem just wonderful.
If I were to bid you ciao,
You'd come back, ever faithful.

I love you so much, friend,
Oh dear friend on my face.
It's a fond story to the end,
Let's take the world at blazing pace!

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Sitting in the Back of a Lit Class

Sitting alone in the corner
With a notebook on my knee
Around I see a mild fervor
As I compose my poetry

A guitar sings to my right
And tunes of Back play in back
Bach's songs have great might,
While the guitar's might lack

In front, teacher tries to play
Some old DVD of Lit
Oh, it's playing now, hooray!
But still no one watches it

Now I try to finish this
But the teacher talks to me
Well this poem's a big miss
Lit class isn't the place to write poetry

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Rumors and Lies are Physical Violence

"Do you think that Joan is pregnant?"
Alton asked his old pal Steven.
Steven went on to tell a friend;
Didn't bother to get the records even.
Soon Jill told Gary,
Gary had told Claude.
Everyone around thought
Her belly was a bit broad.
Not before long, little Suzie
Went to the now infamous Joan
And congratulated the woman
On the soon-to-be baby of her own.
But Mrs. Joan was displeased
With what Little Suzie had said.
Joan just gained a little weight,
Not conceived of child in her bed.

And that, my dear mother,
Is why I'm not to blame
For the black eye on Suzie.
"My, your excuse is lame!"
And so his mother took him up
And placed him on her lap,
Face down of course,
For his ass to slap.