No
No
The Olympics are on
No
Like a four year cicada
No
And sandwiched between commercials
No
And animated graphic introductions
No
Events rarely seen
No
And the commentators!
No
Can't get enough of talk talk talk
No
Divers showering
No
Yesterday's volleyball snippit clips
No
Interviews
No
It's the rose parade waiting for floats
No
It's the antique road show TMI
No
Oh, the gymnast the camera's love
No
North Korea South Korea selfie embrace
No
Fellow marches in with go pro on a pole
No
No
No
Soccer in the soccer stadium
Noooooooooooooo!
Oh
Oh
We sit entranced
Oh
Youths' beauty
Oh
Like five litters of five puppies
Oh
Playing with their five mommies
Oh
Cheers and arms raised
Oh
Tears and brave efforts praised
Oh
Solemn pains
Oh
Crashed and lamed
Oh
Precarious odds
Oh
Over came
Oh
The laurel wreath
Oh
From the Olympian gods
Oh
A treasure chest lotto
Oh
Oh
Oh
Winners and losers pack their bags
Ohhhhhhhhh
Finish Lines
Nature has no finish lines
No celebratory celebrations
Hawks Squirrels catch
Like I'd eat a sandwich.
Push Back
Time was I pushed back
After getting knocked off my feet
By the incoming surf,
A silly unnoticed thing to do.
Hand open, I splashed the sea
Sending ripples the other way.
Thing is,
Water is incompressible
So even still
Though a candle in daylight
I arrived across the sea
Like starlight.
Today Is Mother's Day
Today is Mother's Day, Mother Dear,
I hope you didn't fret or fear,
For Daddy will get you a present I'm sure,
Right now he may be buying you a coat of fur.
The Eight Second Conspiracy
The eight second conspiracy...
I didn't notice it
Until I took a class explaining it,
We were making animations for it.
'No scenes longer than eight seconds,
Preferably shorter...'
What's it done to us?
Our attention spans chopped up like celery?
DolphinWords
Notes: No...at the Dungeon (my gym), riding the stationary bike, the televisions are overhead...and I was thinking how little what I was seeing has to do with me...I can't afford the cars in the ads, the vacation spots in the ads, and don't want most all the stuff in the ads, so I was mumbling as each one came on, no, no, no...and then just kept on for each eight second or less scene (see The Eight Seconds Or Less Conspiracy), as so much of it is just fluff...the Olympics were on, but it could be any show...I watched an hour show last night that had so much web lag that it lasted over two hours...I didn't care...conditioned as I am, I can tolerate frozen screens, and just wait them out!...it's by design I'm sure...I was watching a free sample show on cbs, but they'd like to have me pay for subscription...or just paranoid I guess!...(stuff like this happens on my iphone on facebooks all the time)...hmmph...no,no,no, I was going on on on...and the poem is just a sketch...I haven't worked it up....a no no...and I thought to do another...oh oh oh...and I could probably do more so so sos!...ral...enough of that...Finish Lines...a goof...but one of the fundamental differences between Humankind and Animalkind....and it brings to mind, how God, in a passage in the Bible where He is about to administer, again, disaster on the wayward, says He takes no pleasure in it...justice is blind and implacable...there was an old time painting of Armageddon I saw, the good angels fighting the bad angels, and the caption noted the 'implacable' expressions on the good angels' faces...all serene, all calm, all the same...and needless to say, the bad angels' were expressive!...thought to call Finish Lines, Punch Lines...Nature doesn't have those, they thrive with us!...Push Back...this is one of my 'I'm thinking on this...' poems, and I'm not sure what I'm thinking on!...Today Is Mother's Day...oh, I was going through old stuff, taking digital photos of old family photos...everything smells musty from long time storage, and time to toss it...but I'll try to save things with the digi pics...anyway, among the pics, was a handmade Mother's Day card, and inside this poem...unsigned, but the handwriting is mine, and the manner of writing too!...I must have been like six or seven...oh, we are fated from the start!...anyway, it's one of only two poems I wrote throughout my youth...and the other was self similar...lost now I think, but I recall the punch line...it was a Valentine handmade card, with much the same conceit, that ended with Pop kissing Marilyn Monroe...clearly, well, not so clearly, as no one understands it clearly, this is the stuff of the Freudian triangular rivalries!...in back handed fashion, I was bringing attention to Pop maybe forgetting Mother's Day gift, or on Valentine's Day, being flirtatious with another gal!...undercuts are how rivals undo one another's efforts...witness the current political back and forth!...there are psychological depths to the candidates shenanigans...public beware!...I just deleted a poem a couple days back that had 'voting booth' rhymed with 'John Wilkes Booth'...the conceit, a vote as a stylized shot in the dark theater...too extreme, I thought...
quote
In a political environment where Trump supporters chant "lock her up", say Mrs Clinton should face a firing squad or worse, the Republican candidate's open-to-interpretation remarks likely throw gasoline onto a smouldering fire.
http://www.bbc.com/news/election-us-2016-37029170
unquote
...or yelling fire in the theater...beware the October Surprises!...I don't know if writing has the equivalent of drawing gesture drawings...maybe the spontaneity of describing a shrink's ink blots!...Illustration....one small gesture drawing...we did tons of these in life drawing class...
:)
DavidDavid
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