—Rhony Bhopla, Sacramento, CA
Tap, tap. Thumb click. The President
spews words out onto the horizon
of mind-numbed humanoid receptors
pulling and tugging and zipping
alive and dead all-caps neon. Iran’s Rouhani
feels the zing now. Before, Kim Jong Un
responds, hovering over North Korea’s
red button. Like little drooling boys
raging in mad hypnotic video play
game over never comes
For, if it were game over, wombs
would harden to plumbs, children
would inevitably seize in their beds
books combust into sparks that
singe flesh, vegetation would consume
by toxicity of malice in guise of bravery.
Animal heads, seen shriveled
like rind of old lemon. Bitter truth:
the ball is still rolling after an awkward turn.
Tap, tap, thumb click, zip zoom
the President is at it again boom
THE SAME SIDE OF THE BED
I’m packing a bag
and taking a few things into tomorrow:
my notebook, some iced tea,
a couple of British mysteries,
a peanut butter sandwich,
my pillow, and some toothpaste.
No need to know why
I’m leaving for the future;
—no need to know why
I’ve chosen these objects.
I’m not sure where I’ll be tomorrow
I’ll end up in the same place;
and—most likely surrounded
by my packed case, and the rest
of the trappings I cling to.
Most likely, I’ll be blinking into the morning
wondering why I keep choosing
to wake up on the same side of the bed,
in the same room, looking
down the same hallway, waiting
for . . . . ?
This is a one-way ticket, this time-thing.
Pack carefully: there is no going back.
Even if I wake on the same side
of my rumpled life, the sun will rise a little later,
or a little earlier while I missed the dawn.
My journey into tomorrow begins now
each second that I step forward, I advance
on the future—move into the deeper now.
MARKED FOR FRIENDSHIP
We are a sneaky combo—
the three of us—
poets, marked for friendship
Oh, we glitter and we gleam,
we jitter-bug and waltz
through unsuspecting crowds
picking phrases and rhymes from the air.
No one of us claims bragging rights,
building on the work of each other,
as we do. Like street jugglers and acrobats,
we puncture the world of expectations
laughing at the challenges tossed
to one another across the realm
of published works—
We are a sneaky combo—and we love it!
ONE EVE IN SANTA MONICA
—Caschwa, Sacramento, CA
All the seats were taken,
bladders were full, as were
the few ladies’ restrooms
so of course some women
arched their feet and marched
so sweet over to one of the
many men’s rooms to do their
business. Even the prudent
framers of our Constitution
didn’t propound laws and rules
to govern this exact situation,
thanks to it not having been a
problem before we made it one.
But in our haste to bolt and
revolt, we also abandoned a
universal common sense in
favor of giving ourselves the
chance to play being king.
Today it is no longer a matter of
luck to find a clean and private
rest room at a public venue, it is
a royal privilege afforded to
individuals with the resources
to bring their own. KEEP OUT!
MADE TO ORDER
If I am fully rested and
caught up on my sleep,
there may be nothing
better than to select a
British mystery movie
to watch on TV.
Most of the time, though,
a sporting event is my
typical choice because
then if I fall asleep part
way through, someone
is taking notes for me
and posting them right
on the screen…
MADE TO ORDER, II
We eagerly looked at all the
advertising about the best
materials to prevent water
damage to the flooring at our
then we rented some trucks,
went to the beach and brought
back several loads of sand
right from the ocean floor, which
is known to resist water damage,
and spread that evenly all through
MADE TO ORDER, III
Woke up at 4 O’Broken Clock in the
morning after, long after the Land
Rush was over, and we barefooted
Sooner or Laters who nestle our
hand-me-down cardboard boxes
under the busy freeway could only
retreat and gaze at all those other
folks with their expensive cars, and
their shiny, sturdy bootstraps who
certainly got theirs, and who now
had some place to go in a “Damn
you, get outta-my-way!” hurry.
MADE TO ORDER, IV
If the sign outside the public building stated
“No uttering Haikus within 25 feet of the
building entrance” most people would
comply without it being any kind of problem.
But since the real target audience is cigarette
smokers, we need to call upon more than
just signs to get this right.
Maybe cigarette vendors need to start asking
to see a tape measure along with an ID card…
that would be a positive first step.
FOUR CLEVELAND HAIKU
—Michael Ceraolo, South Euclid, Ohio
Cleveland Haiku #550
not quite damming it
* * *
Cleveland Haiku #552
noises of a drawbridge
* * *
Cleveland Haiku #553
as they hunt for fish
Cleveland Haiku #556
By blue Erie's shore—
odors from the power plant
gone with its demolition
—Charles Mariano, Sacramento, CA
i had to go,
until i went
* * *
a phone call
* * *
in my tracks
in the eye
to write it
I took some dark chocolate candies to my church’s Sunday women’s Bible study
I forgot that there are no “snacks” for when they have communion
I thought, though, why not have communion with dark chocolate as well as wine?
If Jesus truly loved women he’d understand
—Michelle Kunert, Sacramento, CA
Thanks to our many contributors today, with all their finery! Birthdays abound: Charles Mariano and Taylor Graham had birthdays last Saturday; Katy Brown’s birthday is today! Best of days to all of them. By the way, the "sneaky combo" Katy refers to in her poem is Taylor Graham, DR Wagner and Katy, the three "Meduskateers" who sometimes write poems back and forth to each other.
Poetry in our area begins tonight at Sac. Poetry Center at 7:30pm, with spoken word from the Sacramento Unified Poetry Slam Team. Thursday is Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe in Sacramento at 8pm, with featured readers and open mic. Also Thursday, there will be poetry in Old Sacramento with the Love Jones “Best Love Poem” Competition, starting at 8:30pm. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about these and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
Celebrate poetry—and birthdays!
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