Ode To The Cell Phone

NaPoWiMo prompt - Day 15! - Do one of the following: write a poem in the form of a complaint about something that is good or you like, or in the form of a hymn to something that is bad or that you dislike. 

Ode To The Cell Phone

What a pleasure

at the grocery store,

the drive-through,

the bank, the waiting room,

dinner in a fine restaurant,

to know we’re all connected.

A loved one, a dear or casual

friend, the tangled relationship,

never more than a ring away,

Eavesdropping easier now,

a bonus for us writers or voyeurs,

to know the intimate details

of strangers are

dangled everywhere.

Oh, cell phone,

I myself must now

learn to carry you everywhere,

not to leave you

lonely in car,

not to use my voicemail anymore.

To flaunt my life for everyone.

I must learn you’re not a tool.

You now define me

and label me

more that I could ever imagine.

Sonnet On The Fourteenth

NaPoWiMo - Today’s prompt honors the sonnet – that hoary 14-lined favorite of English verse. So your challenge is to write a sonnet. If you want to go for the full-on iambic pentameter , be my guest. But there is quite a tradition, particularly in the 20th century, of sonnets that don’t use iambic pentameter at all, but instead have lines of varying lengths, meters.Try your hand.

Sonnet On The Fourteenth

Where did the morning go?

It began with early bird-song drifting in the window

which soon disappeared as did

traffic on the street and roofers down the block.

Deep in travels I ran

riding on a wave of fiction.

London, Paris, Rome, Amsterdam, Edinberg,

Copenhagen, Germany, and Greece.

Gazing into someone else's life.

Word, sentence, paragraph, chapter.

description, dialogue, monologue,

flowing, flooding the time away.

Now I'm back, too restless for this gentle day.

Jack Kerouac Was Here

NaPoWiMo prompt for day 13:  The five minute poem. Get a kitchen timer, or use your watch, whatever. You are NOT ALLOWED to spend more than five minutes on this poem.  This poem came from a flyer I have saved.

Jack Kerouac Was Here!

Buzzing into town

stumbling round

some lines of smoky haze

then Bob Dylan trailed behind

always showing first

the words to take us home.

Oh, youth

rebellion of peace

and promise

and daisies.

Jack Kerouac was here

but I was somewhere else

lost in a book

not yet knowing booze

or smoke,

lost in the mountains

sounding everywhere

Jack Kerouac was here

and where was I?

Searching Tennyson,

Lightfoot, Chapin, Whitman?

Wandering

where I might be

when I might be

what I might be?

if Jack Kerouac was here!