POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

PROMPT #175 – “GETTING TO WORK”

Write a poem about an inanimate object getting ready to perform its function.

WALT’S NUDGE:

‘SNO BUSINESS

Is this guy crazy?
It’s damn cold out there!
There’s a foot of snow
and he expects me too throw
it over there? I’m a slow starter
when it’s cold out. I’d rather
be a hold out, but he’s ready to blow!
I’ve got to go. This sidewalk
isn’t going to clear itself!

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014

 

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65 thoughts on “PROMPT #175 – “GETTING TO WORK”

  1. Vividly written. Hilarious – imagine the cacophany if all the tools talked back and then went on strike!

  2. William Preston on said:

    SLOTTED OR PHILLIPS?

    A screwdriver
    can always be a friend indeed;
    a screwdriver
    assists the ham-fisted contriver
    who needs to tighten, pry, or weed.
    You never know when you might need
    a screwdriver.

    copyright 2014, William Preston

  3. connielpeters on said:

    First Work Day of this Season

    My coworkers and I
    will come in for a landing
    on their cars, lawns and buildings—
    not a heavy blanket, this time,
    but just a promise
    of things to come.

  4. flashpoetguy on said:

    CONVERSATION WITH MY PEN

    You they call mightier than the sword,
    How is it you lie there at rest,
    Not caring what this sheet of paper needs?

    How can you so callously afford
    To do nothing, lie there though blessed
    With much to write, while the paper pleads

    your inky nib will race across the lines?
    Instead, you choose to let the blankness reign,
    The sheet lie fallow though there’s much to say.

    How dare you ignore each line that needs
    To feel your smooth gliding as you name
    Each thought, each feeling, each word to pray

    Itself into a poem? Why now?
    Why this moment to fall fast asleep
    When the world is wordlessly amiss?

    And I with poems beating at my brow
    Sit malcontent, lost within the deep,
    Bereft of rhyme and rhythm, speechless.

    My patience I suggest you do not try.
    What is it that you offer as your why?
    Be clear or to the basket you will fly.
    Ah, Parker, now I see. Your ink’s gone dry!

    #

  5. Beep Beep

    You never think of me, do you,
    When you punch in the time?
    I am your morning wake up call
    But who, pray tell, is mine?

    The rooster does not crow for me,
    The blinds shut out the morning sun
    I have to stay awake all night
    just to get the job done

    and if I happen to miss the mark
    and you miss the bus or train,
    it’s in the bin! I get no reprieve
    though you hit snooze again and again

    and again and again and again!

  6. The Feather Duster prepares for duty

    Oh no! It’s the old lady! Where did that
    Young kid go? The one always in her hurry?
    We finished in record time, her and me!

    The old lady’s hands shake. And she will
    Pick up a picture and stare at it like it’s
    going to come to life and say something
    to her. This is going to take all afternoon.

    Look, she’s not content just brushing
    me across the frame like the grand-kid does.
    She has to pick it up and examine it like
    maybe it changed from the last time she
    used me – got older or something.

    Oh -oh! She’s picking up that picture of
    The kid in the army uniform. What an
    “Eager Beaver” to use an expression
    they used back in those days. So
    ready and anxious to get into some
    exciting action and come back a hero.

    Hope she doesn’t cry. Don’t want
    the tips of my feathers wet. We
    got whole dresser tops full of pictures
    And she is going to pick up every one.-
    The wedding groups, the baptized
    babies, the first day of school.

    On and on. By the time we get through
    I will be ready for a nice week’s rest.
    Sure hope

  7. Darlene Franklin on said:

    I took the easy way out . . . used a lantern form for this:
    Fear
    Hot soup
    Scalds my skin
    While you blow hot
    Air

    Psst!
    Pick me!
    Christmas cats
    Chase balls of yarn
    Fun

  8. Preoccupied PC

    Oh, she hadn’t shot down me the best,
    So many viruses collected
    And put them in the treasure chest.

    Ah, what a wonder of selected mess,
    So many images emerged,
    When pressed ‘to show the request’.

    So careless, to plug in back forgot,
    Enjoyed the ‘coach potato’ movie-
    That put me in the sleeping mode.

    My job could be a joy, not a jolt,
    If extra folders would be sorted,
    Compressed on a disk under the code.

  9. RJ Clarken on said:

    Spoon Discourse

    “They dined on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon” ~Edward Lear

    Does one need a spoon, Dear Mr. Lear?
    Is that just polite etiquette?
    One might appear austere, I fear,
    if one’s not in one’s table’s set.
    While we’re on topic, ‘RUNCIBLE’?
    Is it something spread on baguette?
    Seems it’s incomprehunsible
    if one’s not in one’s table’s set.
    To tell you the truth, utensils
    are something one should not forget.
    A spoon is so quintessential.
    It belongs in one’s table’s set.
    Does one need a spoon, Dear Mr. Lear,
    if at meals, one’s table’s not set?

    ###

  10. RJ Clarken on said:

    Redo…(Messed up some stuff in the previous version.)

    Spoon Discourse

    “They dined on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon” ~Edward Lear

    Do you need a spoon, Mr. Lear?
    Is that just polite etiquette?
    You might appear austere, I fear,
    if one’s not in your table’s set.
    While we’re on topic, ‘RUNCIBLE’?
    Is it something spread on baguette?
    Seems it’s incomprehunsible
    if one’s not in your table’s set.
    To tell the truth, a utensil
    is something you should not forget.
    A spoon is so quintessential.
    It belongs in your table’s set.
    Does you need a spoon, Mr. Lear,
    if at meals, your table’s not set?

    ###

  11. Used and Abused

    Did you say company was coming?
    Well find out what kind of food
    they like, and how many
    are expected. What are you
    worried about? You have
    a specialty. If guests
    do not like Indian food,
    you’re off the hook.
    Your pages are clean,
    pristine, even. Your spine
    is not bent. I mean, look
    at me. I am spent. All
    American Cooking. They always
    flip through me first. My table
    of contents only reaches “S” now.
    Flour and egg stains, tomatoes,
    gravy, and do not even
    get me started on meatloaf
    disasters.

    Oh no, here she comes.
    You push yourself out
    front; I’ll play dumb.
    Uh oh! My cover is opening.
    Creak, creak. My pages
    are flipping back and forth.
    I certainly hope she puts me
    upright on the stand, at least.
    A little dignity, ya know?

  12. Pingback: An Umbrella’s Vow | Metaphors and Smiles

  13. I’ll need to return to read…sorry to post and run…my teeth have a dental visit to show up for! 🙂

    An Umbrella’s Vow

    I’ll hold foldedness
    still, in the corner waiting,
    readying for rain.
    I’ll live fully for drizzle
    and open easily, too.

    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2014

  14. LOG-IN LOGISTICS

    Hello and welcome to your online account!
    Use lower case, caps or numeric amount
    to prove you are you before you can begin.
    Without the right code, we cannot let you in.

    Hello! Good to see you! We’re glad that you came!
    Now what is the password that goes with your name?
    You can’t check your cart or when payment is due.
    You get but three tries and this one’s Number Two.

    Hello! Back again? Got the code? Yeah, we’ll see.
    It’s wrong, so you’re out with the final strike three.
    Perhaps if you’d written it somewhere in blood
    you wouldn’t be stuck in this internet mud.

    Without the right password, you’ll only get flack
    but we value your business so please hurry back!

    © Susan Schoeffield

  15. Pingback: Log-In Logistics | Words With Sooze

  16. Walt, your snowy poem leaves me cold, but I love it! Maybe I should have written about an electric blanket.

  17. WRAPPED UP

    They only bring me out on the odd occasion
    The men and women in the white coats
    as they are so colloquially referred to
    The emergency workers, I mean
    They do try everything else first – drugs
    are always really the first line of offence

    Well – I guess, talk is, at least that’s the spiel
    sold the public and the press, and it is tried—
    For about thirty seconds maybe, oh—okay
    For up to three minutes if the cuckoo
    is anywhere near lucid and, let’s be honest,
    By the time my people get there, it’s not
    likely we have a talker, not likely at all.

    So if subduing is in order, and when isn’t it?
    And the drugs aren’t cutting it, and often they don’t
    You’d be surprised how much some crazies can handle
    without going down—it’s pretty amazing actually
    And, of course, no one wants to use the dreaded taser
    That’s for sure—not with all the controversy
    surrounding that baby, and its countless fatalities
    of late—nossir—

    That’s why my sweet self has been making
    such a resurgence and also why more
    of the husky fellows are being sent on calls
    to subdue and contain the loonies
    It takes really strong ones to hold them down
    and get me onto them properly, you know

    But once I’m on and wrapped, tied and fastened
    Well— I don’t like to boast—okay, maybe just a tad
    There is no getting around it—the game is over

    Once they’re restrained by Mr. Strait-Jacket
    They might just as well kiss their freedom
    Good-bye, Sayonara, Adios, and any other term
    you can think of that means:
    You are going to the Funny Farm, my friend
    It’s the Loony Bin for you—no good trying to get free

    Even the great Houdini had trouble getting out of a Strait -jacket
    What makes you think a crazy-ass fool like you is going to
    escape— uh uh—not going to happen—no way, uh uh uh
    And that, as they say, is all she wrote folks —I love my work.

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