Computers (Poem)

Computers

Technology- friend or foe?
Today a friend, tomorrow a woe!
This, the real love-hate relationship.
Into my computer, I’d love to empty a clip!
But the computer is supposed to be our friend!
I wish the frustration would end,
Some days I love my computer,
Some days I just want to shoot her,
What a relationship I have with it,
Some days I wish I could quit,
But it’s my computer and my friend,
I guess the rules I can bend,
Before I throw you into the trees,
Work for me, please!

Bugs (Poem)

Bugs

Behold technology in all its glitches,
Blinking lights and faulty switches,
Bits and bytes running completely amuck,
Batteries that like to totally suck,
Bolts and screws falling off and missing,
Broken CDs and corrupt hard drives hissing,
Backups that fail,
And lost email,

Another Runny Nose (Poem)

Another Runny Nose

Oh, runny nose!
Must I have so many blows?
I’ve used a ton of tissue,
To battle my allergy issue,
My nose can’t take too much more,
Heaven help me, it’s sore!
I feel the pressure in my head,
Pushing with the weight of lead,
I was hoping it’d be brief,
But doesn’t look like I’ll have any relief,
It would seem my nose prefers to run,
This is its idea of fun?

Daily Shouts (Poem)

Daily Shouts

The morning struggle between my son and wife,
Appears to be a staple of our everyday life,
When it’s my job to get him out the house,
He gets up and dressed as quiet as a mouse,
But with my wife, he covers his head,
And believe it or not, tries to go back to bed,
This, of course, doesn’t go over well with her,
She had to constantly yell to get him to stir,
That, in turn, causes him to shout right back,
That gets her riled up where she wants to smack,
I get that he’s a teenager and that he’s rebelling,
But why, oh why, must there be so much yelling?

A Call for Ideas (Poem)

A Call for Ideas

I felt it best not to say a word,
Though a response bubbled and stirred,
A writing friend declared her creative well was dry,
All I could do is shake my head and sigh,
To her friends for ideas she made the call,
The response was good wishes but volume small,
I pondered replying, but of it, I thought better,
For surely if I had, it would be a scathing letter,
The fact is she’s a writer who doesn’t write,
For that reason, I have no pity for her plight,
She might occasionally journal here and there,
But her productivity is at best threadbare,
As a friend I know I shouldn’t rant,
But her writing outside journaling is frankly scant,
What reason is there for her muse to show?
When not writing is her status quo?
She proclaims that writing is important to her,
Yet her actions show she’s more like a poseur,
Bitching about a friend is a bit uncouth,
But my goodness, it’s the truth!
One day she’ll find her way back to paper and ink,
But right now, I’m not sure what to think,
Clearly, her call for ideas made me upset,
But silence is better than words I’d regret.

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