Go the Extra Mile. Wait, Come Back!

Tuesday, September 16th, 2014

I scrambled to work toting bags galore,
An old foe glared as I passed through the door.
“Still has that chip on his shoulder,” my coworker sighed.
I glanced at his shoulder, hmm, no potatoes fried.

As I walked by the receptionist he dropped his pen,
Bags flipped over my head as I started to bend,
“Don’t bend over backward,” he said with affection
I paused, for bending forward was my direction.

Later in my meeting, with my bags at my feet
My boss walked in, and before taking a seat
She asked if I’d like a cup of Joe?
Horrified, and for Joe’s sake, I said no.

I showcased tables, charts, graphs, and pies,
That explained our company’s lows and highs.
Boss said, “Wow, what a piece of cake!”
Which confused me because I never bake.

“I don’t mean to be a backseat driver,
But could you move that chart up higher?”
Oh boss, who thinks we’re in a car,
I think you’re working much too hard.

“And, I don’t mean to step on your toes…”
She interjected, I looked down and froze.
There was nothing on my feet but my shoes
So I waited ’til she continued with her news.

“Actions are louder than words,” my boss prodded,
Wondering if my neck had popped when I nodded
“So I am promoting you, and you get a raise.”
I beamed at this gesture and the kind praise.

When I Discovered It

Sunday, April 20th, 2014

Crawling on my hands and knees,
I crossed the threshold of my room.
Toward bed I go to dream of trees,
My other haven since the womb.

Alas I stop before I reach
The place I want to rest my head.
I find a figure in front of me
Blocking the path to my bed.

With limbs like mine but very small,
Laying still, It stirs then rises.
It turns to me, eyes wide, then falls.
Are we the same, but different sizes?

I scoop It up and hold It near,
Wonder about my treasured find.
Concerns of who has left this here
Are quickly pushed out of my mind.

In my palm, the size of a yolk,
It blinks, eyes brimmed with blue and dread,
With my other hand I lightly stroke
A golden nest atop Its head.

Time passes, our dance goes as such,
Fear, then caution, learning, and fun.
My temper was a bit too much,
The only time that It would run.

Everywhere I went, It followed,
On my back, climbing trees and swings,
I saved It from being nearly swallowed,
By T-Rex, among other things.

The dew shone like never before
I watched ferns creep across the trees
I thought of time and how things grow,
And how some things are spread by breeze.

But then, a herd of mad small Its
Stormed in my cave and shot small twigs.
That pierced my skin and twisted fits
I screamed, cried, and clenched my ribs.

I rose and leapt through my cave door,
Thrashed through my homeland once so still.
They chased, down on the forest floor,
My It amongst them, against its will.

The forest ended, I jumped down,
Halted at the edge of a cliff.
To die by arrows or to drown?
I woke up on the deck of a ship.

Off the ship, and into a cage,
Through land with trees I’d never seen.
Climbing never looked less fun,
Tall, thin squares with metallic glean.

Locked indoors in my dark new home
They brought my It with golden hair,
On stage, and forced me to perform,
It watched me with a sad, blue stare.

One day It came and set me free,
I grabbed It and we hurried away.
Set out to find the tallest tree,
Which happened to be both square and gray.

I reached the peak and strained an ear,
Heard shouts of fear from down below,
A metal bird was circling near,
“King Kong, please let our dear Ann go!”

Lockbed Monster

Friday, January 24th, 2014

They call me the Lockbed Monster,
With grippy pincers like a lobster.
Stripped of my blankets, I’ll still clamp,
Adhered to bed just like a stamp.

Sun may rise but not my eyelids
As I increase my REM mileage.
Bells and whistles, they won’t do it.
Marching band? I’ll sleep right through it.

A lion roaring in my face?
Twenty elephants in a race?
Through clash and clamor, I won’t surrender,
Locked happily in horizontal splendor.

Hubble’s Handbag

Wednesday, January 8th, 2014

What do you carry in your bag of brains,
Marvels, and memories and little word games?
Do you pack a calculator for everyday use?
A wrench for tightening when things get loose?
A fan for cooling those overworked fuses?
Some ice and heat for soothing your bruises?
A scosh of sun in a sealed tight jar?
A map for days you want to go far?
Photos of everything you’ve ever seen?
A cinema screen to watch as you dream?
A notebook of names, a binder of musings?
A gold case of moments especially amusing?
Got a telescope for long-distance viewing?
A cauldron bubbling with ideas stewing?
Files filled full of insightful defeats
Next to a stack of success recipes?
Records tooting your favorite tunes?
A safebox of sweet words that once made you swoon?
An album of faces you’ll never forget,
Blank pages for ones you haven’t met yet?
The size of the satchel is constantly growing
So don’t stop now, keep on stowing!

You Called?

Tuesday, December 24th, 2013

Buzzer buzzes, I must get going,
Time for me to get out of this head.
It’s early but the juices must be flowing.
It’s my job, so I pop out of bed.

As soon as I’m up, I’m raring to go.
Scramble into my blue coveralls,
Grab my yellow hard hat, I’m out the door
And I jog down the soft spongy halls,

I get to the drum, and turn left and then right,
A maneuver I could do in my sleep.
On the other side, I run into my team,
We continue on shuffling like sheep.

Squeeze through the lobe out into the open,
I turn to grip the craggly ear.
Hoist myself up the familiar path,
Always happy heights isn’t my fear.

At the top of the ear, I grip the hair
In clumps to help as I climb.
I start to sweat as I summit the hill,
And plant my feet on the top of her mind.

“Okay, team, are you ready to go?
Looks like we’ve got a medium drip.”
Our Captain announces as we all gather,
And start on our cross-cranium trip.

We hike across to the head’s middle,
Surveyor inspects the spot with care,
Picks six patches, begins battening,
Tying ropes to thick pieces of hair.

Anchor Men and Women stay behind,
Securing the ropes at the base.
We march forward to the head’s front,
Naturally we quicken our pace.

Nearly there, we fall to a crawl,
Til’ we reach the cliff of the face.
Belly-down we peer over the edge,
Sheer drop always makes my heart race.

I peek behind to check my team,
Ten brave members lining the rope,
A pair of strong hands grip my ankles,
And I settle down into the slope.

Quick nod to my other Cliff Hangers
Fasten a foam hook to the rope’s end,
Slowly lower it down over the drop,
Being careful not to let it bend.

Over the brow, nearly touching the lash,
The hook dangles at the base of the lid.
A short swing toward the eye, a brace, a tug,
Then pulling up as if catching a squid.

My job is obscure, but the perks are swell,
And my boss is a magical bean,
Helping keep eyes in a locked position,
She is otherwise known as Caffeine.


Tuesday, November 19th, 2013

Before he wanders through the wood,
The knave knows not of the beast,
Except for details loudly sung
In the safe warm halls of a feast.
Until an answer can’t be found
The brain knows not how much it grows
When forced to search for methods new,
Opposed to those it thinks it knows.
The body hums an easy pace,
And seems a simple system, sound.
The strength of each component part
Unknown until it comes unbound.

And as it’s breathing down his neck,
The knave remembers those he loves.
He turns and stares at beastly eyes,
His hands fly forward, true as doves.
When answers lie just out of reach,
And all used paths lead to an end
The brain remembers more than facts,
Creative thinking is its friend.
When beaten, bruised, tired, and sore,
Immunities against the ropes,
The body soldiers on and on,
What flows in veins is blood and hopes.

* Inspired by my dear, brave cousin, who is battling cancer.

Some Things Come with Age

Wednesday, September 18th, 2013

Before zookeeper, astronaut, athlete, or teacher,
I had another idea of what my future would hold.
It was less of a career and more of a feature
I decided I wanted before I grew old.

When I grow up I’m going to be tall!
I’d announce as if I had the means.
Turns out I grew up to be quite small.
Picking pants is not the same as genes.

I Blame the Cheeseburger

Friday, July 12th, 2013

I had a large dinner at quarter past seven,
It rendered me too full to sit.
So I laid on the hammock to stare up at heaven,
Thought I would rest for a bit.
It was a peaceful two minutes, supine outside,
But the little stringies beneath my bum,
Silently screaming, surrendered to my backside,
And submissively snapped, one-by-one.

*Based on a true story, whose events took place a mere few hours before the posting of this rendition.

Instinct and Extinct

Thursday, May 30th, 2013


Maybe the dirt under his toes,
The million-years-old grains of sand,
Sparked the ancestry of his fine nose
Set off a chain reaction, demand

To hunt, to chase, to set his gaze
Upon the horizon and scan
For preys to raze and bring forth praise
From his best friend, his master, man.

His muscles twitched. But not so fast,
Fowl was sparse in this urban land.
Jays parted ways, larks did not last,
And the city had chickens banned.

But his stance was firm, his jaw set,
His tail was as stiff as a mast.
Paused his duties as a house pet
As he spotted something fly past.

The hound in him snapped back with ease.
Adjusting to much smaller kill,
Domestic dog settled for bees.
Wild pup just enjoys the thrill.

Crutches, A Haiku

Friday, May 3rd, 2013

Like a hummingbird
Moves so little, so much work,
Except I am slow.


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