Poems are not created solely to be read, Nancy. You are supposed to write some, also! (Note to Self)
POEM #1
The Interval
My fingertips relish the soft, fuzzy, fleece-like texture of white spa towels, minimally offset by the grey and itchy thread of a hemp string encircling their rolled-up forms at the waist.
POEM #2
Bounty Hunters
A parking lot is full of zip-zapping vehicles, drivers searching for prime parking space, or trying to get the heck out of there.
Store shelves are lined with too many branded options of foods, all produced by the same 2 companies.
The stale smell of pizza slices, warming under red heat lamps, wafts through the aisles, making tummies growl and wallets open wider. Did they hide a fan to make the aroma travel farther?
Mounds of produce are sprinkled – on schedule – with a cooling mist.
Dumpsters are full of edibles that rot in the sun.
Anything you want. Ice cream? Auto parts? Live plants? Drugs? Alcohol?
How about soft drinks? Meat? Chewing gum? Pet food? Batteries? Light Bulbs?
One-stop shopping with items to spare.
All taken for granted as if it were natural and deserved.
The Occasional Poet
‘Tis I. Learn more here.
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Do It The Write Way! Let My Fingers Do Your Talking!
