Poems: Day Thirty One & Sometimes It’s Better To Just Move On

Poem created in response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 30, 30 Apr 2011

(form: Lune)

Day Thirty One

Poetic Asides’
PAD complete.
Wednesdays now beckon…

(form:  Triolet)
Sometimes It’s Better To Just Move On

With a change of perspective you may understand
sometimes it’s better to just move on
and diverge from the roads we’ve carefully planned.
With a change of perspective you may understand
dreams can come true in a far away land:
“second star to the right and straight on ’til dawn.”
With a change of perspective you may understand
sometimes it’s better to just move on.

**The quoted line is not quite an exact quote from Peter Pan, but close enough to deserve the quotes… especially since this is how many know it.

Poem: Ode to PAD (Poem-A-Day)

Poem created in response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 29, 29 Apr 2011

(form:  Shadorma)

Ode to PAD

Praise be to
Poetic Asides’
and the month-
long challenge
that has stirred my creative
juices -Thanks, Robert!

This particular PAD, or Poem-A-Day Challenge, was hosted by Robert Lee Brewer, blogger of Writer’s Digest’s Poetic Asides, and has run the month of April in celebration of National Poetry Month  –one more day to go, of course, but today’s prompt was an Ode, or poem of praise.

Poem: Paperless Society

Poem created in response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 28, 28 Apr 2011.

Paperless Society

In our effort to go green,
save money, and be more portable,
we have begun to use less paper
while increasing our reliance
on computers and electronics.
Many no longer buy books,
preferring to load their favorite
stories onto an e-Reader.
For me though, you can keep
your e-readers. I’ll gladly
pay my bills and read my news
electronically, but I read books.
You can’t replace the sound
of the spine being cracked open
for the first time or the smell
of a new or very old book.
One other loss is the already
rare “Behold! Here are the
lost scribblings of <Writer X>,
found stuffed away in the back
of the desk drawer that I just
bought off the auction block.”

Poem: In the Grind of the Wheel

Poem created in response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 27, 27 Apr 2011.

(form:  Fibonacci)

In the Grind of the Wheel

stuck
in
a rut,
no forward
momentum, the scene
never changes: a gray cube

Poem: Lemmings

Poem created in response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 26, 26 Apr 2011.

(form:  Fibonacci)

Lemmings

“Hey,
guys,
anyone
know where we’re
going?” “Duh, over
the cliff, just like the guys in front.”

Gah, Work! …revisited

Poem created in response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 23, 23 Apr 2011.

(form: Lune)

Gah, Work! …revisited

All this work really
interferes
with play. It must stop!

Poem: Snapshots of Life

Poem created in response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 22, 22 Apr 2011.

Snapshots of Life

Only one exists
at any one time,
quick glances,
snapshots of life
captured by our mind
in the blink of an eye.
We may recall the image,
but it’s only a memory.
The moment is gone.
It existed
only once
briefly…

Poems: Macht Nichts & One For The Road? Second Thoughts…

Poem created in response to Robert Lee Brewer’s 2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 21, 21 Apr 2011.

(form:  Lune)

Macht Nichts

That nagging tickle,
second thoughts.
Macht Nichts. It is past.

One For The Road?  Second Thoughts…

Let’s count to ten
and break down
what happens when a car
going fifty-five miles per hour
hits a tree and the driver
is sans seat belt and air bag.

One. The front bumper
and grill collapse.
Two. The hood crumples,
strikes windshield,
rear wheels rise from ground,
tree receives hug from fenders.
Three. The steering wheel disintegrates.
Four. The car’s rear end continues
moving forward at thirty-five
miles per hour, but the driver
continues at fifty-five.
Five. The driver is impaled
on steering column,
blood rushing into lungs.
Six. The impact rips feet from shoes,
the brake pedal breaks off, the frame buckles,
and the driver’s head slams the windshield
as the rear wheels come back to the ground,
still spinning.
Seven. Hinges rip loose, doors fly open,
and seats break free
striking driver from behind, but
the driver isn’t bothered…
he’s already dead.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten. These last three TENTHS
of a SECOND mean nothing
to the driver.

***I know this isn’t pretty -fairly gruesome, actually. I saw something similar to this on the orderly room bulletin board years ago when I was in the Army and it has stuck with me… popped into my head while thinking about seconds… one second, actually.