Category: A New Poem Every Morning

Morning Pockets

lindastudleyLeave a comment

My morning coat has pockets
stuffed with wonders and what ifs
I thrust my hands into them
and blindly tell them over in my mind.

There are roads still to be followed,
like a tangled skein of string,
words to say, and turns to take,
and faces waiting to be given names.

There are cherished outcome wrappers
like disappointment bookmarks
that rustle when I touch them,
empty, yet still vying for attention.

There are keys that jingle snippets
of songs I don’t remember,
existing as a promise
of opening that  special door one day.

There are folded bits of paper,
numbered patterns on their wings,
like butterflies at rest, they
wait for my decipherment to fly.

I could empty all my pockets
throw the contents on the bed
but the magic might escape and
I rather have the wonder than the truth.

 

#56

Playing on Words

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Take a sharp tongue and mince your words.
These should be honeyed and taken with a grain of salt.
Eat them or keep them to
put into someone else’s mouth.

Using the rough side of your tongue, mark your words,
weigh them, and load them with irony.
Let them sink in. Twist or break if necessary so they can be
thrown back in your face.

 

#55

Too Far Ahead

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Sometimes I wonder if I look too far ahead.
I make my imagination run on
acting out dozens of potential scenarios,
trying to predict the future
through some sort of psychic role play.

Sometimes I wonder if one day I’ll get so far ahead of myself
that I’ll be able to look back and watch
myself slogging along behind.
Will I look back  in sympathy or irritation?
Will I really be able to see any more from that forward position
than I can see from here?

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I lost sight
of my forward self, if she just disappeared
over the hypothetical horizon.
Would she ever look back?
Would she get so far ahead that she’d forget
she’s just an advance scout?
Would she begin to function as the real me and then
one day start thinking too far ahead?

 

#54

I Am the Captain of My Soul

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I am the captain of my soul, as such I must decide
My heading for this journey across this ocean wide.

I am the captain of my soul, I strike a pose so dashing
Then slip upon my hubris and into the waves go splashing.

As soon as I get back on board, and dry my hair and pride
I’ll check my charts and compass too, and once again decide.
 
I am the captain of my soul, though she can be capricious,
her gait is like a bucking bronc with streaks of downright vicious.

I’ve tried to  reason with her but she finds me rather droll
because I wear my captain’s hat and think I’m in control.
 
I am so the captain of my soul. Not you, darn soul, but me
And I’m going to hold my breath until I’m blue or you agree.

But she just laughs and sends a gull to poop upon my hat
That’s not why it’s called a poop deck, I tell the flying rat.

I am the captain of my soul I whine and stamp my feet
Till finally she humours me and gives me back my fleet

And I don’t know how long this time she’ll let me pose and strut
Before she finds it funny and she dumps me on my butt

I am the captain of my soul, I whisper from the bowsprit.
I am the captain of my soul, as long as she allows it.

 

#53

Valentine’s Day 101

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Today we’ll play at Valentines
I’ll be yours and you’ll be mine

We’ll send each other a long stemmed rose
and cards with someone else’s prose.
 
We’ll eat our dinner candlelit,
sit closer than we usually sit,
 
and when it’s over we’ll revert, dear,
to who we are the rest of the year.
 
For I will be your heart’s desire
and you’ll be what sets mine afire.
 
We’ll laugh and toast the day in wine
because we know that Valentines 

are for beginners, not old hands
like us who know that true romance

is something that needs time to grow.
We reap the fruit of love we sow.

 

#52

Keys

lindastudley2 Comments

Keys on maps provide translations
of the symbols and squiggles and shapes.
Keys to doors provide access
to a places where we can be safe.

Keys to tests provide answers.
Keys on cans provide spam,
(or sometimes herring or sardines,
or large, jelly covered, cooked hams.)

Keys to hearts provide insights
into who we were and are.
Low-key, high-key, off-key, on-key
Please don’t key my car.

Keys on musical instruments
provide music (if not off-key).
Keys to archways keep their stones
from falling down on me.

But the keys on my computer
are the ones I use the most
to send my words around the world
Whenever I hit “post”.

#51

Motivation Matters

lindastudley4 Comments

Join a million simple bacteria together
create a powerful organism – capable
of destroying life
with cold, calculating efficiency.

Join a million simple fears together
create a  mindless mob – capable
of leveling civilization
with overwhelming momentum.

Join a million simple computers together
create a super entity – capable
of executing difficult operations
with speed and ease.

Join a million simple hearts together
create an irresistable force – capable
of performing miracles
with compassion and foresight.

 

#50

Transitory Transit Authority

lindastudleyLeave a comment

My train of thought
is boarding very slowly today.
The letters on the ticket
spelling out my destination
are smaller and slightly out of focus.
 
When I finally climb on board and take my seat
the train refuses to move forward.
Perhaps there’s something blocking
the tracks ahead – painful
memories, useless trivia, or
dream residue.
 
I could have flown instead but my
plane of existance was booked solid
with bean counters and disgruntled
looky-Loos.
 
Next time I think I’ll just launch a canoe
into my stream of consciousness
and drift away, not caring
where the current takes me.

 

#48

You’re Part of the Dysfunctional Family of Man

lindastudley2 Comments

I had a thought the other day
about all the people who lived before the Christian religion
got organized.
Where did they go when they died?
Did they default to Hell
or get grandfathered in to Heaven?
Or did they have to hang around in some sort
of purgatory – God’s waiting room – until He got all the rules
figured out
and carved in stone.
I think He should have carved them in stone a lot earlier.
Like before He had kids.
And added one about not eating those apples,
Maybe Eve didn’t realize it was a ‘rule’
Thought it was just a guideline, although,
why did He put the dumb tree there if He didn’t want
them to eat the fruit?
If you had kids, would you leave the Tylenol lying around
(without a childproof cap) and just tell them “hey,
Don’t eat these”
Come on! What kid can resist that?
And then get all pissy and kick the kids out of the house
and pretty much ignore them for centuries.
(with occasional frightening visits disguised as a burning bush or to flood the world)
Then He sends his “real son” (so what, the people He created
weren’t His children after all – were they ‘adopted’ or something?)
To straighten the dumb adopted kids out.
Sounds like God created the first dysfunctional family to me.

 

#47