yesterday’s new verse

oh, dear God, please, not again,
is this another poem?
i wish they could get help for him,
or put him in a home;

half his lines, they don’t make sense,
the other half don’t rhyme,
i simply can’t decipher them,
i haven’t got the time;

and what am i supposed to say
to yesterday’s new verse?
getting on this list of his
has since become a curse;

all i did was help a friend,
encourage him to write,
now i’m getting life defined
at nine o’clock at night;

listen to me, carefully,
and spare yourself my pain,
tell your would-be poet friends
that Shakespeare hurts your brain.

passing the torch

whatever it is
we think we have learned
from all of our travels around the sun,

new generations
will most likely see
much of its wisdom and logic undone;

for little we offer,
or seek to pass on,
can rival those first of our fires,

save for ambition,
the courage to dream,
and the gifts we know each inspires.

a little text

here’s a little text, hello,
i’ve nothing else to say,
i didn’t need to message you,
this moment, anyway;

sometimes i can make mistakes,
i often get it wrong,
but i would rather write too soon,
than wait a bit too long;

there’s no need to write me back,
or think of some reply,
i wrote because i wanted to,
i didn’t question why;

here’s a little text, hello,
i’ve nothing else to say,
and yet, i hope, since reading it,
you’ve had a brighter day.

unlike some

some can, but don’t,
some should, but won’t,
it’s neither here nor there;

it matters less,
to them, i guess,
some never seem to care;

and yet, you do,
it bothers you,
to see what some ignored;

as if inclined,
to find, in kind,
for each, their own reward.

a reconciliation

it started out an aimless walk,
but ended in a peaceful talk
between those parts of me so long at war;

the heart, the head, they’d had enough,
of all that foolish petty stuff
disguised as some emotion to explore;

it doesn’t matter what i say,
if i should go, or i should stay,
there never was a doubt or a debate;

for certain things i have to do,
i’m meant to face, or struggle through,
if i’m to charm and win the hand of fate.

what i think i heard

i heard what i think i did,
no matter what you say,
that’s the way i always do,
as you hear much the same;

through simple conversation,
we’ve grown so far apart,
there’s little use in talking,
the listening’s too hard;

better we should shut it down,
before we reach the point
that one of us is bothered
or finds themselves annoyed;

and still, i have to wonder,
if we’re not just inclined
to hear the words we want to,
as if they somehow rhymed.

snuggles

they’re purple, and pink, and lavender blue,
and puffy, and fluffy, and fuzzy-tailed too,
that’s what a snuggle is when it’s new;

it waddles, it wiggles, and winks when it walks,
and tells the most thoughtful of tales as it talks,
it’s rarely annoyed, so it rarely much squawks;

you can’t really get one, they’re quite hard to find,
and awfully selective, if you’re so inclined,
they’re looking for one with the right state of mind;

one who believes with true faith, but asks why,
who still sees the magic in each starry sky,
and imagines what most would simply deny.

they

there was a time, before it all,
before their rise, before their fall,
when they chased heaven here on earth;

and one can ask, with all that’s wrong,
with what’s been lost, or what feels gone,
if what they did had any worth;

but they care not, they can’t stand still,
the heart, the soul, they need, they will,
insist on moving till they see…

that distant or that better view
of what it is they need to do
to make our dreams reality.

so much

so much of what used to be
matters so much less to me,
i see so much anew;

so much of it seems so strange,
still, so much, it hasn’t changed
so much as point of view;

so much, now, if once unsure,
feels so much like times before,
it makes so much so clear;

makes it clear, and so much so,
so much that a fool would know
he’d find too little here.

instant replay

i kind of have a problem
with certain referees
whose use of instant replay
is lacking expertise;

yes, i want to get it right,
to stop and take a look,
but at the twenty-minute mark,
a ref should get the hook;

if something’s indisputable,
it doesn’t take that long,
these hostage situations
are very simply wrong;

pursuit of such perfection
just isn’t worth its cost,
the goal is unachievable,
and too much else is lost.