Cafeteria Pondering

I sit, I wonder,
As I hear clanking plates,
Why in caf
are there always tate-
rs?
Ponder,
Why must the white rabbit
always be late?
What use to catch
a catfish—which bait?
Is there a girl here, named
Kate?
As I see salad bar,
Oh so far,
I think,
Why are there no not any dates?
And,
Why is date the fruit,
Spelt samely as
going out on a date?
Perhaps fate?
Or a question that
leaves an open gate.
I do hate
these seeds in my teeth,
I think, swigging a gulp of
milk for relief.
I see an Aussie say,
“G’day mate!”
As I wait, Continue reading

Pen vs. Pencil

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Which do you prefer—pen or pencil?

Personally, I prefer pens. I like the sight of the ink—the boldness and fluidness of it, especially of uni-ball pens! I also don’t have to worry about words pulling a Houdini after years of being on the page. And being left handed—I hate smudging my paper with pencil anatomy, having to wash graphite off my hand after every period.

From what I’ve observed in classrooms though, both high school and college, I think that I’m in the minority. The appeal of the pencil—being able to erase mistakes, seems to be more favorable than the utensil that makes a declaration with every stroke, in which a mistake is very noticeable with a dark line or scribble. (I do agree though, the beaver-side of me that is, pencils are much better to chew on than pens [bad habit].) And perhaps, not all messages should last forever and be allowed to fade with time, or they shall be greatly misunderstood later, such as “He testified for the prostitution[1].” or “It’s like killing two brides[2] with one stone.” or even “Baseball-sized hell[3] fell on the town.” (Important Tip: When writing, check spelling, kind of important.)

So I wonder, does the preference of pen or pencil reveal an aspect of your character? Continue reading

Lone Wolf

Why does the lonely, lacerated, labile Lupus
leave the pack, limping?
When the lavender is
league,
leek[*] lonesome?
Why does lui loathe the
lighting of la luna,
Lusting for unillumination
in which to lay low?
Luctationaly to mollify il belly
with small lemmings, with elk leftovers,
With Larix bark and lingonberries,
While the leash lunches
lavish game of moose and caribou?
Polar in winter nightfall,
Lutose, covered in burrs,
Lootching[†] the snowfall,
Longing had a hillside cave in which to lagniappe?
Shelter
from the hollering leopard
looking whom it can lightningly swallow?
Unsettling sleeps
under a larch—
of a woodland?

4/09/14

 


[*] look + seek

[†] look + watching

 

 

The Helter-skelter Pell-mell Davenport Poesy

A writer’s desk

a treasure trove

of unfinished projects, A clattered, unorganized mess

of strewn out papers and uttermost chaos;

A clove of ideas—

A bastion of creative thought,

Wishful

thinking; barnyard eggs that still need hatching;

Infants still need born—

fertilized embryos to be nurtured and matured;

ripened fruit to be plucked. Continue reading