It’s time to write another poem.
It’s another year,
In the same old home.
I need to travel for inspiration.
Just need to avoid the beach,
It causes perspiration.
It’s time to write another poem.
It’s another year,
In the same old home.
I need to travel for inspiration.
Just need to avoid the beach,
It causes perspiration.
Just leave me a message.
Under the tree,
I smell pee,
I think it’s me.
In the morning dew,
I smell poo,
I think that’s you.
After terminating a lot of old folks,
By making them move into the office,
It turns out people can work at home.
From sometime in 2020
I finished my taxes Thursday.
This was a day early.
Actually, it was four days early.
The deadline changed again.
Taxes used to be simple.
April 15th.
The Ides of April.
(Just realized that.)
April 15th is my birthday eve.
So, that also made it easy.
If I was trying to avoid a party,
My taxes were due.
I guess it’s now a floating holiday.
Just like all the other holidays.
George? Abraham?
You were born on the 18th this year.
Awaken to my alarms’s dull roar.
Hear my spouse’s gentle snore.
Sense my dog heading for the door.
Leap from bed before she pees the floor.
It’s not the weekend any more.
I am watching my son.
He is on YouTube.
He is not playing sports.
He is not at band camp.
In these modern times,
Many parents watch their sons
On YouTube or TikTok.
Most are appalled.
I am rather proud.
It is an older video.
It is from last year.
He is preaching.
He is a professor,
Not a preacher,
But professors
Just lecture.
So, he is lecturing.
However, it is in Chapel.
That is pretty much
Preaching.
My son is at his job,
Talking about Jesus.
I mention Jesus at work,
But in a different context.
How did a lowly sinner
Such as I
Produced a preacher?
(Even part-time.)
I’m sure his Mom
Takes all the credit.
That’s how it works.
Athletes say, “Hi Mom!”
Preachers talk about
The Father and the Son.
I guess I got half-credit
In the divorce.
Go away.
I gave up coffee for Lent.
The inspiration was heaven-sent.
I survived the headache.
Now I don’t even shake.
It wasn’t the coffee I miss.
It’s the little breaks of bliss.
Now I’m at my desk all morning.
Whether it’s dry or even storming.
I just sit at work until lunch.
I stare at the screen a bunch.
I don’t even miss the caffeine.
I just zzzzzzzzzzz.
Long difficult month.
Poetry will help you heal.
Peace until next year.
I’m not sure what goes here today.
I don’t know what I want to say.
So, I sit and watch the clock.
Trying to cure my writer’s block.
I could attempt some more haiku.
There should be something more to do.
This should be a meaningful account,
Not just a specific syllable count.
So, I will sit and watch the screen.
My imagination has been wiped clean.
Eventually, a concept will arrive.
As disco taught, I will survive.
Work for common good.
Don’t get rich saving the world.
You still need money.