Poems galore!

These were the only pieces that I revised and resubmitted for the class. I think my poetry is abysmal, but I really liked the subject of all of these. The prompt for the first one was to use words we didn't know the meaning of before we started writing (abraded and apportioned). Second, was to write the poem from someone else's point of view (think Looney Tunes...). Finally, we did a little bit about ode poems, so that should be self explanatory.

Uno

Sunlight streams through
pristine window panes, warming
white, blue, brown
speckled carpet.

One hundred and eight
black, white, red
cards lay ready
to be apportioned into hands
too small to manage them.

Forced to wait,
brown, gold, green
speckled eyes
too small to tell time
well with tears.

Abraded by youth,
he scatters the cards in rage
changing the game to
one hundred and eight card pick-up.

His back turns,
leaving her tears to fall
and be warmed
in a sunlit patch of
white, blue, brown
speckled carpet.

Note: there are 108 cards in an Uno deck. I remember a sibling's friend throwing the cards and making me pick them up. I don't remember crying, and the sibling actually stayed to help me after his rude friend threw them. It just worked better the way I wrote it.


Elmer's Lament


That damn rabbit.
We started as business partners,
and now I’m the villain.
Forget your lines, don’t do your job,
and somehow that turns into a catch-phrase.
I am NOT a doctor!

I used to think we’d be best friends
forever, traveling the country.
But he started getting more girls than me...
Apparently when you’re a big shot
you don’t have time for “bumbling” old men
with invented speech impediments.

“Time to face facts”, that idiot said.
The people loved him more than me
and I’m stuck here, working as
a sanitation engineer
for rent money.


Ode to the Microwave

You are singular in path
around, around
Either blinded and burned
or cold and alone.

You count on the visitors:
a garden burger that smells like vomit
a Tupperware of unknown sauce
(that explodes like a naked suicide bomber,
no paper towel, no lid)
a stick of butter, unattended
(that turns into a flood of butter,
warm & sticky,
reminiscent of pee).

You are neglected and filthy.
You heat and reheat.
And though the tenant has thirty seconds
he has no time to wipe you
with a damp washcloth.