Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on February 20, 2012
I better get out of bed and get moving
The end of times is around the corner
Who knew
Procrastination is home to roost
Books to read
Check lists to check
Emails to answer
Youtube videos to vet
Twitters to twit
Facebook to interface
Wait
The last star will not burn out
For one hundred trillion years
I need to cogitate on this
With a beer or two on the deck
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on February 19, 2012
Primroses on the dining room table
Bring yellow orange and cream
Reflections to the french door windows
Bely winter's damp gray night
Brighten the oak table top
Like Victorian girls
Ready to open picnic hampers
On spring time blankets
Caught by an impressionist painter
As another Sunday disappears
Into history's yesterdays.
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on February 18, 2012
Gloucester
Even if you've never been
Or have no idea where it is
You know its a fishing village
Cranky weathered wood buildings
Piled along the bay's curve
Clapboard taverns with pickled eggs
In a big jar behind the bar
Cheap beer with names like Narragansett
Hunched fisherman on bar stools
Speak to the old days
When cod and haddock were infinite
Out on the Georgia Banks
You could pay for the kid
Too clumsy to ever be on a boat
When a northeaster rises
To get a degree at UMass
Maybe even an MD or law degree
But today just memories
And a glass or two of Narragansett
A shot of Canadian Club
When the phone rings near closing
The bar tender says he's not here
I haven't seen him today
Another round another round
Submitted by Neil McKay on February 18, 2012
It is, of course,
not the rising sun
That is new every morning.
It is me.
Submitted by Benjamin Gorman on February 18, 2012
Well, somebody better do these dishes, I said to the sink
The faucet looked forlorn but said nothing,
maintained its hangdog attitude
They’re not going to do themselves, I said
hoping to be proven wrong and suddenly sanguine about telekinesis
The desiccated sponge cracked a hopeful smile
The dishes themselves looked away
tried to appear pathetic in their food-stained dishevelment
An echoing drip in the gullet of the sink
added the requisite touch of melancholy
I sighed
All right then, let’s help each other, I said
pushing up my sleeves
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