Archive | September 2014

Stop the Merry-Go-Round, I want to get on!

Ideas pop and sizzle in

sponge-like gray pockets of

human byte-size menus.  Words

coagulate to form eclectic

mental visions that tantalize.

 

Keyboard clicks with strokes

lovingly designed toward success.

Flattened wood pulp jammed

around the platen to catch the ink jet splatters.

 

Manila pockets of hope that

carry out the mission, like

the Pony Express of yesterday.

It suffers the Hara-kiri ritual

performed by ordinary letter openers.

 

It waits for the brusque editorial

attention its author has waited to

hear.  Waiting to feed the need.

Licking up comments like crumbs

that fall to the floor.

 

Floated towards the river of acceptance,

or resigned to slush pile ignominy.

The author waits with bated breath

and a tingly expectation, as the SASE

is gleaned from the morning mail.

 

 

Janice J. Robinson

©  November 30, 1995

 

A Poet’s Dilemma

Circadian…Cinnabar Red…

I want to go back to bed

Rhymes and Reasons…

Oh, WAIT!…Should it be Treason’s?

 

Butter…Butter…My hearts’ all-a-flutter

Writing these words…writing…writing…

 

“Sing a song of six-pence…

A pocket full of rye…”

 

No…No…That’s been done to death

Oh, poor Mother…She really was a silly old goose.

 

Words a-plenty…Buz-z-z-ing in my head

Circadian…yes, yes, the rhythms of life

Cinnabar red…better words instead

 

“ALL RIGHT! LUNCH IS OVER! GET BACK TO WORK!

 

My lunch with the bunch

That I never started…No, I won’t say it

It’s been written on every wall

By poetic squatters waiting for pay-dirt

If you don’t understand it, just sit a spell

It’ll come to you by and by

 

My pockets stuffed with paper

Oh, what a caper

See you later…Alligator

 

As I twirl my artistic pen with my fingers

Waiting for the words for my very next zinger!

 

Janice J. Robinson

©  October 19, 2011