Month: April 2012

In the Year 2024

I lived for a couple of decades without television (my husband’s preference, but it was okay with me.) But now I have high speed internet and Netflix instant streaming, and I’m catching up on things I missed. Star Trek Deep Space Nine for instance.

I’m in season three, currently. I have just seen what life will be like in the U.S. in 2024, due to a time travel mishap involving three of the crew. Here are a few of the things we can look forward to in 12 years:

Cell phones will disappear. Nobody has ’em. Bureaucrats will go back to using paper forms. Computers will expand in size and be built into consoles. All citizens will have iris scans on file, however. And “the net” will be around as a source of information, if, you know, you have one of those consoles.

 

Peonies – a Sonnet

 

So far, I’ve missed only two days in my quest to write a poem per day in April. I decided to try my hand at a sonnet. Here’s the result:

Peonies

They seem quite tentative at first, their stems
So slight, peek out for a looksee, an inch
Or two as if unsure whether their gems
Are something they want to share or pinch
Back for themselves alone. Each day they stretch
Forward, looking stronger, more confident,
Till their intent appears to be to fetch
The sky, and they raise tight fists, defiant.
Guarded against the ant and butterfly
They keep their blooms constrained, bound close.
Soon their inhibitions will burst; unshy
They will compete with the lily and rose.
Vibrant, voluptuous blossoms will flare,
Then bow down with beauty too heavy to bear.

Ode to My Favorite Picture Books

I was thinking today about two of my favorite childhood picture books: “The Story of Ferdinand” by Munro Leaf, and “Harold and the Purple Crayon” by Crockett Johnson. I read both of these over and over. I see now how they’ve influenced me for life.

Here’s today’s poem, a tribute to these two books. It’s rough, but from the heart.

Two Great Teachers

Ferdinand, from you I learned
The value of sitting in the clover
Quietly being true to yourself.
You and Harold
Were my first great teachers.
Ferdinand, I’m so glad you came along
When I was young to show me
conquests and prizes pale
Next to the victory of retaining
Your integrity. From you I learned
Contemplation.
Harold, with his crayon, spurred my creativity,
Showed me I could travel anywhere
Be anything, have wondrous adventures,
No matter my circumstances,
Without depending on someone else,
Without a car or bike or money,
As long as I had imagination.

If you need to find me, I’ll be
Traveling this world and others
In my clover patch.

At the Intersection of Poetry Month and Library Week

A library poem. I wrote this a few years ago.

741.5

A hard rain’s gonna fall
on the head of the next shelver
to work this section of the library

Superheroes overpower the bookends
break free of their confines
fly off the shelves

Snoopy, completely dog-eared
keeps getting unleashed
scampering to the floor

Beatle Bailey and his troop
lose formation
drift off to the wrong location
again

Calvin and Hobbes are out
having an unauthorized adventure
on the far side of Gary Larsen

Large floppy books with bad posture
slouch along the shelves
lean on each other for support
much like the teens who
camp here studying anime and manga

Someone needs to come along
and straighten them up

Poem: After-Evening

For my own private celebration of National Poetry Month, I’m attempting to write one poem each day. I won’t publish them all here, but today I feel moved. I will count this as the poem for April 2, even though I didn’t finish it until a couple of minutes past midnight.

Remember, I just finished this, so don’t be too harsh.

 

After-Evening

The after-evening time, when partnered with
Completed to dos or even postponed to dos,
Contains the most prized moments of my day.

The store of chores has closed shop for the night
And I have tucked in my precious duties
With hope they will sleep through until morning.

I take out my favorite diversions and dreams
From the suitcase in the back of my mind,
Slip into them. The fit is exquisite.