I backed into
the car
that was near
my driveway
It was
your sporty
pretentious
new one
I should be sorry
It looked so fine
with an iridescent
shine
But, in fact,
I don’t care
Your car
was blocking mine
Endnote: This is a parody I wrote of an apology poem by William Carlos Williams. In it, he sincerely apologizes to his wife for eating all her breakfast plums. I decided to be brutally honest instead.
I watched you afloat on autumnal skies,
Welcome spectacle, epic and bitter sweet.
Your plangent notes,
an ancient promise keep.
In Spring the homebound birds all doubts belie.
As time's passage, with ersatz progress flies,
Your homes, your food, your very breath compete
With techno marvels sterile, venal, bleak.
As ever more encroach, doubts and fears arise.
I mourn untold futures lost and betrayed.
Silent dawns, fishless waters pervade.
I mourn diminished hope and wonder's loss.
Deranged nature speaks in many voices.
Eccentric rains, demonic winds rage across
A wounded earth, the victim of our choices.
The key to success is mind over matter
I cannot unlock the car's jammed door
I wish I wasn't anywhere near this blighter!
If doors open, I have to start the piker
The key is stuck like Arthur's Excalibur
The key to success is mind over matter
Its' engine sounds like choking crows aflutter
My humor descends to depths below rancor
I wish I wasn't anywhere near this blighter!
It's brakes convulse with random grabs and falter
The fender bender wasn't my fault, señor
The key to success is mind over matter
Its' tires are tired of movement's brisk canter
All four are flat as mats on parquet floors
I wish I wasn't anywhere near this blighter!
I walk away from 'rent a wreck,' a biker
My driving sojourn's torture I abhor
The key to success is mind over matter
I wish I wasn't anywhere near this blighter!
Endnote: The vilanelle is a 19 line poem related to the sonnet. I wrote this one in iambic pentameter.
The rain pelts down with winter's cutting harshness
A squirrel slowly turns her morsel round
She savors all her melded senses' wholeness
Absorbed in Nowness simple and profound
I find my place in the geriatric parade.
We limp, creak, sidle, prop each other up,
Rather like Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow.
The pool looms as water aerobics class begins.
Our instructor, Vivian, glares at those who slowly immerse.
She never gets in the glacial water herself, however.
The dominatrix snaps staccato orders like a demented woodpecker.
“ Balance, Balance, Balance!”
I wear a flotation belt, which further distorts my center of gravity.
Balance isn’t an option.
“Noodle, Stand” she commands.
One attempts to remain upright on this contrivance.
Of course, the belt accelerates the downward spiral.
A chemical cocktail floods all one’s orifices.
“Barbells, Stand” she bellows.
I pass on this one as the bobbing ‘bells’ drift away.
We are then bidden to run laps in the water.
I encounter the second lappers whilst still on my first.
This elicits unbridled scorn.
She is too exercised to speak.
Why, you may well ask?
Exercise is good.
Corporate misery fosters friendship.
And, irritating Vivian is such bliss!
