pop's poetry

Year: 2015

  • autumn morning walk

    Rainbows to the east
To the west, blended pastels
At the center - joy

  • sunday projects

    Creating something from scrap wood
found in my garage amidst the tools,
wanting to be given a name.
A table,
for the cat,
a cat table,
she must have.
The little black kitty can eat in peace
above the reaches of dog breath
away from the thieving blue jays.
Out of sight,
in a dark corner,
a perfect setting,
for stealth meals.
Hand sawn with tools new and old,
the creation comes to life from a sketch
on the last of wrinkled graph paper.
A table,
for the cat,
a cat table,
she won't like.

  • something new

    in a new pair of shoes or moving rhubarb to a sunnier location and shopping for new glasses (I really wanted round ones) it's obsessively obvious that I like change though that's not entirely true because I actually love it as long as I think the change is for the better or at least status quo in terms of making a difference even though there is some comfort in the routine things of life like plum blossoms and paychecks and smoothies and sunrises I have to say that not being able to change the every day on any day makes me think of wanting to part my head from my body so I can be free from the monotony of the endless rote happening around me although I know a bodyless head and a headless body would also get boring as well as being fairly ineffective so I keep some of the rut walking going while I let my imagination leave my sensibilities every moment I can and before the path I'm on gets too deep in the ground from the terminal back and forth I jump out and dance for a bit in the sun

  • minimal wage or the root of all evil

    I'm wealthy and you're penniless.
I'm a homeowner and you're homeless.
I'm loved and you're lonely.
I'm employed and you're lazy.
I'm clean and you're filthy.
I'm happy and you're depressed.
I'm a citizen and you're an alien.
I'm blessed and you're cursed.
I'm chosen and you're not.
I'm better off than you
specifically because
you're worse off than me.
That may seem obvious,
but see, if I paid you more
I would have less.
Still more than I need
for a hundred lifetimes,
but less than I want.
I hear them say that
money is the root of all evil,
but really, being poor is,
at least from the view of
my penthouse corner office.

  • in the still

    I sense a voice from time to time
that the breathless still offers me
A simple observation to my mind,
A thought that only I perceive.
It whispers underneath the quiet din:
"Tell them what they need to know."
"Just what is that?", I ask and then
Silence wraps my heart and soul.
That's all there is to the short exchange.
I find perplexing, with curious walls
Of audible grafitti that set the stage
Where over again the small voice calls.
So I live my simple life and love
Friends and family far and near
In the hope that one day knowledge flows
To tell me all and make pathways clear.
Tonight though, as I lay in my bed
Between the worlds of thoughts and dreams,
I thought I heard a voice that said:
"Your life well lived is what they need."