Squirming thought-worms writhe
Licking cranial insides:
Outwardly normal.
10/100
Midday haiku
Tag: #100poems
Every day a poem
Every day a poem:
Dawn's introductory stanza
Sets me up—better, worse, or
In-between. By Breakfast's lines
Attitude starts setting, casting
Today's foundation. Theme, style,
music, tone, harmony, dissonance,
all proscribed by this early start.
Takes composer's interference to
Change this line, this development.
Afternoon either resolves all notes,
or abandons them to dissipate into
"well there's always tomorrow."
8/100
The Project Manager
"I used my best project
management skills! I had
sub-projects, dependent
tasks, timelines, mileposts! And
deliverables? My God!
I had 'em comin' out
My ass! But scope creep
blew it up. Mileposts changed.
Life wanted new measures,
new deliverables. I
couldn't make sense of it.
I adapted, changed, tried
to be successful, but
when my project finished
I'd delivered someone
else's project entirely.
Now I'm just confused:
Am I a success or did
I fail miserably?"
6/100
No Poem Today
No poem today
My rhyme's away
I've nothing to say:
No! Poem! Today!
5/100
Laurels
How to rest on one's laurels?
Lie down gently, carefully, not disturbing
Leaves painstakingly crafted long ago?
Stare lovingly into one's past, enamored,
About as useful as Lot's wife leaving Sodom? Or,
Drop this poem onto them as one
Eagerly pushes a new lover onto covers
Which right now don't mean a damn thing?
Poem 4/100
Poem three: Business
Written back when I dwelt in corporate trenches.
Business Poetry 101
Listen,
We strategists need trends,
Data telling us where we stand.
Then you'll require our touch.
Without pictures, we're flying blind.
We cannot simply adhere to "The
Way We Did It Before"—that's
Corporate death, corporate
Deafness.
Right
Equals a certain point in
Space and Time. Standing
In place, in Space, without
Consideration of Time
Will make us
Wrong.
Therefore
We're desperate! Quick! Give
Us data, our picture for
Where Everything's At,
So we can tell you
Where Everything's Going.
Wherefore...
That's why we're bugging you.
If we can get that,
Our Archimedean Place To Stand
Will have arrived, and
We will move the world.
Poem two: a limerick
Nearing a week together, our band of 15 travelers, one guide (Jacky), and one bus driver (Janos), drove country lanes wide enough (maybe) for our medium-sized bus. Unfortunately, these were two-way lanes which couldn’t accommodate on oncoming car plus our bus. A lot of jockeying around occurred, leading many of us to marvel at the driving prowess of our driver. Guide Jacky asked us all to participate in a limerick contest. I did not win, a travesty I’m still wounded o’er, but I console myself that the judging was lax. (The winner claimed the top prize because he totally ignored the rhyme scheme of a limerick!)
R.O.C.K. in the ol’ U.K.
The Beatles had nothing on us
Nor The Who with its Magic Bus.
Led on by guide Jacky,
We’ve grown rather wacky,
As we’re driven by the good kind Janos!
Poem one: Scotland
A friend from the blogosphere is publishing 100 poems in 100 days. I’ve decided to at least try to do that, and I’m going to try to catch up with her by publishing multiple poems per day for a week or so. While in Scotland just about 30 days ago, riding along in a tour bus, I marveled at the ubiquitous sheep and the beautiful landscape out the window.
In Southern Scotland
Sheep dot grassy fields,
Their sides shagging wool.
Clouds scud through skies,
Like inverted sheep, woolly
sides down. Dark ones
Sprinkle naturally holy water:
Priests of nature, they
Remind all—sheep, cows,
Tourists in buses—of our
Divine brotherhood.
