I think it's dangerous

when the frost
arrives in the morning.
and the chill is in the air,
the leaves begin their show,
they sing and dance.
the cold gray morning
gives way to bright sun
and your heart leaps
before you can stop it.

I think, therefore I am…exhausted

Tossing in bed all night,
flipping the pillow
to the cool side,
I can’t turn off my brain,
the to-do lists spiraling
out of control.
I try to short-circuit
the worries,
the borrowed trouble
with word games.
I play virtual Text Twist,
deconstructing
six-letter words
as I keep count
on my fingers.
I run through
the alphabet,
naming vegetables,
birds, authors,
current students
from A to Z.
Nothing keeps my
mind from playing
the lest-productive
mind game of all:
What if…
as I second guess
all the plans
I have laid out
to keep my life
from going wrong
in ways I can only imagine
late
at night.

I think when I thought you died

I saw you ghost past
in my room, a cold gasp
as I sat straight and still –
but only a breeze from beyond
the whipping curtain on the window sill.

I think we live among those
who are alive but dead, who mimic
the terrors of our nightmares, who trick
those of us who believe open windows
speak to us, and we should be open to respond.

I Think, Therefore I Write

I think
therefore
I write
to sooth my mind,
smooth out the wrinkles
and never waste time.

I think it's okay to repost my Day 1 April PAD Origin of Thought poem for this prompt...

My thoughts I think are my thoughts, I think.
I think my thoughts are mine.
If others thought of my thoughts first,
Well, I think that’s just fine.

My thoughts I think are my thoughts, I think.
If others think them too,
That doesn’t make them not my thoughts.
At least, I think that’s true.

My thoughts I think are my thoughts, I think.
And I think it’s insane
To spend a nanosecond more
Just to ascertain.


I think I'll write a new one later. ;)

Wow - good stuff already, you guys. I think I'm gonna like this prompt!

I Think I Need A Drink

I think I need a drink
to get me through the day,
and one to chase the blues away;
Perhaps another after lunch
to wash away that last munch,
and then to have a sip,
from that flask hidden near my hip,
before my meeting at three,
and then we will see
if I can complete my day,
for happy-hour isn’t far away;
Oh, just one more before
heading out the door,
rush hour traffic can be so long
I don’t want to suffer with the throng.
Happy hour was great,
I had three and made a date;
And now it’s time to head on home
for a late supper with my favorite tome,
kiss the wife and the kids goodnight,
one last drink in the moon light.
To fill my flask
is my last task,
then on to bed,
no visions in my head.

I THINK...
(I owe Kilmer an apology)

I think that I shall never see
poets as lovely as those three.

Hannah, whose hungry heart is prest
to write her sweet muse's flowing best;

With Marie, she walks with God all day,
as they lift their grateful arms to pray;

Marie is Good in word and name.
In poem and life, she stays the same.

And De, with heart worn on her sleeve;
writes with passion, I believe,

the three I mention do quite well,
to write the verse that's theirs to sell.

This poems attempts to honor three,
But if there were more, you would see:

the two Nikki's and Connie, Penny and S.E.,
Heather and Sara, Michelle and Nancy.

Patricia the Word Hawk, PM27, Laurie K,
Tammy, Debbie, Sally, Khara and of course, RJ.

Chev and banana, Brett (in girl's clothes),
Barbara, Willy and Meena Rose,

Trudi and Shutta and Ginger all do
what God intended them to do.

Poems are made by fools like me,
what made me think I could pick just three?

I Think Dust Bunnies Are Funny

I like a house
with books,
and magazines and newspapers
as well,
not too neatly piled,
please.


I enjoy a home
with smells,
real ones
from cooking and cleaning
and such,
no vanilla need apply.


I crave a life
with peace,
yet welcome are
the bumps
and fever
of sincere living.

I cherish friends
who last,
the ones who
know
who we
really are.

Robert, I love your example for today, it's excellent! And same goes for Chev, Nancy (I feel your pain) and Marie Elena... rockin!

A Libra weighs all the consequences before taking action. ALL the consequences. It gets really frustrating sometimes.

I THINK BACK AND FORTH

They bore me underneath a Libra sky:
the harvest moon was full behind the sun,
the indecisive season had begun.
I watched the world with a romantic eye,
and carried truth to balance every lie.
The Libra curse is never to be done
with seeing how each future course could run,
with weighing every laugh against a sigh.
But chaos frees me from paralysis:
I'll break the scales with eenie-miney-moe
and heads or tails, till all my thoughts have ceased.
The crooked path of stream of consciousness
will straighten. I will try to let things go,
and make decisions. For a while, at least.

A Big Hit

I think life is like
a Broadway play
we are the producers
trying to make things
turn out the way we want;
emoting and dramatizing
life’s events like actors
vying for a Tony award

when things do not
go our way
we huff off and pout
thinking our life is a flop
and we are horrible,
when in fact
God is the director
of the show
and if we sit back and watch
our lives will be
a big hit

Laurie K.

I think I like to think.

I think I like to think of:
Humming birds in green and pink;
Iridescent feathery down;
Wearing silk clothes and a golden crown;
Marching through the town to the roar of the crowd;
Winning something wonderful and being proud;
Being so cool and sweatless I never need use roll-on;
Being confident I know the right way to use a semi-colon.

Whenever I feel my heart begin to sink
I can woosh it right back up - if I only think.

Robert~ I couldn't agree more- carpe diem!!

Cute one, Walt- and thanks for mentioning me!

Nancy~ love yours! I am a word puzzle junkie, too. I especially adore crossword puzzles.

Michelle~ both your are good, but I like the first one- I can relate.

Joseph~ I feel that way about decisions a lot (I don't like change).

Marie Elena~ cute one!

Daniel~ sweet ( I love vanilla, though) =)

J. Martin~ I agree with yours and have experienced some of that.

Chev~ great imagery

Banana the poet~ well said

Laurie K.

Good morning, all! Loving the first offerings of the week. Robert, brilliant poem – gives us something to reach for.


I Think in the Quiet

Freed from duties and obligations
by giving myself time to sit by the river,
to soak in the lengthening rays of the autumn sun,
my mind is free to ponder and wander in the labyrinth of its own making.

Worries drift away with the grace of gulls in the wind.
Calm floats through my being with the roll of the water,
the burgeoning colors cascading from mountainside to riverbank,
the clatter of cottonwood leaves descending through the branches.

And my mind settles to the image of Eskimo burial mounds.
Does the spirit reside in the place it loves the best?
Is immortality granted only to the soul?
Will I forget this place, will my life be erased by glory?

If I were to revise, I'd probably make it read:

"I think the world is a pin cushion"

There's a space between everyday matters
that makes someone feel every day matters,
a breath or sigh in the darkness. We surround
our time with excuses and distractions, bind
those we love with commitments when we should be
splashing around in dark puddles while the rain
covers us in nothing more than what it is.

Can anyone figure out why? And which do you like better?

I think you may have opened a can of worms with this one, giving this group carte blanch to air their thoughts. frightening.

i think no deep thoughts
i'm a shallow well
almost as simple
as a plain dry wish
not ornamental
but dependable
still flowing though,
on occasion, sluggish

I like the first version, Robert. "splashing around" does break the rhythm, which was probably the aim, but that and the word "dark" suggest depths.
or that could just be me feeling shallow today

I Think I’ll Channel Vonnegut
By: Nikki Markle

I want to live
Close to the edge,
But never quite go over.

I’m bored
Sitting here in the center,
Safe and uninspired.

I want to shake
Off the mundane, take
Chances, shock people,
Shock myself.

When someone asks,
“Have you ever?”
I want to say,
“I have.”

Robert Is it because dark matter is the space between things you refer to and you have used the word 'matter' twice and in the first version only used dark once in darkness and so if you add it to puddle - you suggest exploring the mysterious dark matter which is metaphorically symbolised by the water - also a symbol for spiritual healing like a baptism - and yet just water after all?

So it balances out.

Plus it evens the meter out so that the lines match better.

I like the second version best.

I think the days are getting shorter
and time is flying more swiftly by.
We are all hurtling to a vast
unknown, a giant question mark.
Some of us feel fear, some excitement,
some even apathy. But we can
all agree on the inevitability of
this event, of the unknown. We
all know it can't be stopped,
and none of us know when the
void will be upon us.

I THINK ONLINE SOMETIMES

I think the coffee in the pink
flowered mug has gone cold.
No matter.
I posted my thoughts already:
let your kid eat Halloween candy
even though she's diabetic.
She's a kid first, you know.
Then I said, relax.
Someone already responded.
I think they said I was brilliant.
I like that.
I think about health a lot.
Hard not to when my kid is sleeping
late and I still listen for her
breath even though
she's fifteen. I suppose
that's because life is finite, because
a missed blood sugar low
stops her from thinking
anything at all.

Trudi, I like yours today.

Walt, Trees is one of my old favorites and you did a very clever rendition.

Robert, loving your example today, not quite sure about your revision's meaning but I was thinking about the contrast of dark puddles to light colored or clear rain. NIce one :)

Honored Walt, thanks so much!

Soooo.... many good ones!

Chev,Nancy, Michelle, Barbara, Marie Elena(love that one), Joseph, Trudi, Daniel and Laurie excellent work ALL!

Robert, the second flows more easily for me, but both touched me

matters – that…
surround – our…
bind – those…
we – should…
rain – covers…

I Think in Shades of Blue
By: Nikki Markle

Azure is my potential,
Limitless, a cloudless sky.

Friendships are colored Denim,
More comfortable with years of wear.

For Wit I see Electric Blue,
Vibrant, bold, and clever.

Love is shaded Cornflower,
Gentle, like my husband’s eyes.

Sense of self is Periwinkle,
Unusual, but happy.

banana_the_poet hit on it with the issue of evening out the meter.

This poem seems to naturally want an 11-syllable line, and I liked having the freedom to add in the words "around" and "dark" to the 6th line. I totally didn't catch the parallel of "dark" with "darkness" or the contrast of "dark" with clear "rain," but I really like that interpretation.

Good example of how intent of writer doesn't matter as much as intent of readers. Thanks, all, for the kind words!

I THINK FARM THOUGHTS

I think of shadow images on a barn wall;
pondering long lean stretches of dark
against rust red painted wall of barn.
I think of the grassy green smell of
square bales of hay; horses, cows and
sheep chewing steadily, deep in thought.
I think of the language that hens use
guttural and clucking; scratching about
with bony toes and pecking at yellow meal.
I think of tiny brown field mice with mind
and mission toward stuffing soft white cheeks
with nourishment to stow away for winter cold.
I think of farm thought, natural rugged and pure;
puffs of cloud breath wisped into the darkened
eve, life surges audibly in the still of night.

Ooooo.. Niki, I love "I Think in Shades of Blue!"

i think we're not like others. i am shy,
retiring and, to tell the truth, a troll
broad as a drawbridge, squat, and just a sigh
over weight, brown, nearsighted as a mole

my lover, on the other hand's an orc.
can you say skin as tender as young wheat?
he has a body that would make a rock
moan *fan face* hot! He is one heap of meat.

we stop a little traffic when we crawl
the local neon dives and restaurants
and we've been known to empty out a mall
but even ghosts get tired of their old haunts


we muddle on, me and my mountain-man
two sweethearts, old and moldy, feeling grand

This one was staring me in the face while I was getting my hair cut today.

I Think You're Staring at Me

I think your stare is meant to be
Somewhat complimentary.
But I find it haunting me,
Eerily and creepily.
Your smile is another thing.
I find it simply frightening.
I think perhaps you’re unaware,
Just how disturbing is your stare,
And its aptitude to scare,
You Jack-O-Lantern over there.


Gotta run ... can't wait to read!!

I THINK I SHOULD STOP THINKING ONCE IN A WHILE

My cranium, once cavernous,
is filled with such minutia,
with words that flatter, my gray matter
has turned the boldest fuchsia.

The evening news has taken space
reserved for all my musing,
I remember each and every face,
but not through my own choosing.

These grand ideas that haven't hatched
will find a way to haunt me,
they all look good on paper,
but in action, are just daunting.

Events that hold a special spot,
retained through repetition,
birthdays, anniversaries, and the lot;
to forget one is sedition.

My head's all clogged from writing blogs,
my thoughts are one big jumble,
If I would try to speak my mind,
I'd probably only mumble.

Clarity has flown the coop,
my logic's hard to follow,
I get so flustered I could spit,
but you'll find that hard to swallow.

TV is a mindless task,
I'm not the biggest viewer,
I'd put my mind up on e-bay
and find me something newer.

My thinking is an endless drone,
the humming starts to bug me,
I wish that I could find a way,
for someone to unplug me.

Barbara, I think you have a love story going on in Nashville. Very cool.

Marie, I was that guy at one time, until I got my teeth capped.

Kathleen, sometimes online is the only way I can function. Good post.

Nikki, shades of my favorite color. You beat me to the punch and did it better than I was planning.

Hannah, Farm thoughts are down home good thinkin'

RLB, Liked the second a bit better. I see what you and banana were saying.

Monica, quite mysterious and trepidatious. Nicely concise.

I THINK THE WORLD
IS SQUARE

I’ve taken long walks
Where I can see the horizon
Out there like the end
Of a highway
And I know when I get there
I need to be extra careful
Not to slip and plummet
To my death

I’ve seen those phony pictures
Where they show the planets
Like round balls in different colors
And we are led to believe
They’re spinning
Well, I don’t buy it
I think the world
and all that hangs

in galactic skies are square
as a child’s blocks
and all the people in it
are square with their ideas
locked in the space
of square brain pans
behind four square walls
boxed in lonely square cells

#

I Think In Death We Are All The Same
Mother's Day 2009

Mark said, "Not a Jewish funeral."
But here, among the crosses and angels,
a rabbi leads the prayers,
and the men wear yarmulkes.
What a day to bury a daughter. It's sad.
All places people gather to mourn
ar the same.
I think of my mother,
gone fourteen years.
My own daughter, halfway around the world.
Just yesterday I told my sister that mom
wouldn't like us fighting. My mother's voice
is still present in my ears.
I think there are no Christian tears
or Jewish tears, just tears.

I think Descartes would be appalled
to see the ends of his snowball.
Though breaking with his time’s traditions,
he surely had the intuition
to know the wisdom of the past
should not be stuffed into the trash.
Mind-body split is fine for thinking,
but not for moving, breathing, drinking.
Single selves who think by feeling
don't need mentation as a ceiling.
We are because we are because
we live and grow--and THAT’S the buzz.
Descartes can take his cogito
and stuff it in his so-and-so.



DA

I Think (I Thought...)

I think (I thought?)
of drinks. I bought
a round and then
I found a pen.
I wrote a word.
My note thus spurred
my mind. In sync,
defined, I think.

I THINK OF YOU

setting down your pipe to consider
your newest composition. Or
is it de-composition?
You’ll call it “Still Life
with Rotting Apple.” A Golden
Delicious pecked by robins
bored at the feeder, apple flesh
giving up to consequence.
Philosophic melancholy that breathes
a sigh of deconstruction
smoking its own reward; destitute
as a flawed apple, metaphor
of mankind’s ruin. This
could be your last canvas. Unless,
of course, it sells.

Golly, I haven't had the opportunity to come here in months. I am glad to see some familiar names at least. ^_^


I think about you
more than I would like to
at times.

Stops and starts
and then I make myself stop again.

You are not part of my life.

I have chosen to go on without you.

Yet still,
I think about you
more than I would like to.

Your occasional incursion
into my dreams
doesn’t help my resolve.

I push the images away.
I get started with my day
trying not to remember you at all.

You are not part of my life anymore.

Yet still,
I think about you
more than I would like to.

Diana

"I think; therefore iamb"


My meter’s running like a centipede,
a scamper-rapid heartbeat taxicab
though cityscapes imagined at the speed
of synapse fire, brainstorm; lightning rod
linguistics pulling power from the surge
and into roiling rhyme for rebel post
for you compatriots who swing the word,
devoted and communal in this thread
of edifices built of sparks and sense,
delight, ignite, enflame, engulf, emerge…


DA

I think no more field trips


Now, I’m a guy who loves the trip
any excuse to get out of the school
I’ll do what I can, a let her rip
but this year I was played for a fool

You would expect
yeah, right, that they’d be on their best
no need to correct
as, each will watch over the rest

Well, that they did alright
As, on the way
to the driver’s delight
they were so loud,
the driver had to yell, “HEY”

As, he was about
to go out of his mind
I began to doubt
we’d make it this time

However, arrive we did
with a mess on the bus floor
not to mention the wrappers they hid
in between the cracks of the emergency door

Of course, they could not leave the bus
until all was cleaned
you see,
I have a reputation and a certain level of trust
now they were thinking themselves redeemed

So, they decided to run amok
yep, you heard right
and there I stood like a dumb shmuck
thinking “Gracie goodnight”

Well, we finally get to the zoo
now, they’re running ahead
the other teacher doesn’t know what to do
I simply let em’ go instead

After all, why stress
they’ll be there when we leave
NO, she want’s em with the rest
or she’ believe’s

Well, we all stop at the bear
he’s sitting up like a man
What happened next is unclear
The other teacher, I don’t understand

Then I realize
she’s saying they threw it at the bear
I can see it in the creature’s eyes
On his fur, a stick is stuck there

Now, I’m demanding to know
Who threw the stick
no, emotions do they show
clearly, threats won’t do the trick

We soon get to the petting zoo
many get animal saliva on their hands
which they rub on each other, like poo
clearly it’s become time this group disbands

So, we head for the bus
should be a simple task
well, not so simple, nor just
by now, I really want to kick some ass

As they board, they begin to argue
I was here before
he stole my seat, yes, it’s all true
and worse yet, there’s more

I finally get them seated
no easy task, indeed
a head count, and head pain to be treated
time to get home, hopefully with godspeed

They scream and yell the whole way
The driver looks like he’s going to be sick
I would assume this is his worst day
as for me, I have from too many to pick

We arrive at the school
I sign the required documents
starting to feel less the fool
I walk right into more of life’s torments

As it turns out
two children on the other bus
Had used magic marker to mark out
several names all over this man’s bus

now, you have to understand
this was my trip
so I will get the blame and reprimand
for any kind of serious slip

Now, let’s put this in perspective
I’m in hot water with well everyone
the principal, the zoo, the bus company, and the detective
who will investigate the bear and what was done

Yes, I’m now in it deep
for trying to help these children learn
next time, I think I’ll just go to sleep
and when it comes to a trip
just give someone else a turn. . .

©Ralph J. Fitcher, October 14, 2009, a true story of the events of today’s field trip to the zoo.
The principal is so angry with me, she won’t even talk to me.

Ralph who won't be takin' these clowns on anymore trips this year. Last year, I went on 8 field trips with the worst classes you could think of, and they were better then this.

I THINK LIFE IS AN UNKEMPT FIELD

Bordered by broad shouldered trees;
lush fallow colored weeds mingle
gracefully with wild-flowers. Lavender,
purple and blue, hues of sun-glint yellow.
An unkempt field is united in its dense
undergrowth; weave of intricate grass,
vine and stalk all leaning together
with the shifting in late summer breeze.

Individuality lives and breathes the very
core meaning of existence. Each unique
plant, it’s own and an integral part of the
system. Souls unite in every walk of life;
hearts connecting one to another sharing
in times of joy and strife. Each experience
a twist in the vine of life; surging with
relevance and revelations, evolving daily.

Walking the unkempt fields of life, taking
each day as presented. Keeping the rhythm
of the sway and bend with tenuous tendrils.
Forever reaching limbs to the sun, eternally
available for pollination. Just one of the
countless flowers in the incredible foliage
of life. Lavender, purple and blue, hues of
sun-glint yellow, meshing of adventures.

Unkempt fields compose the fabric of life.

I Think Therefore I Will Not Dwell

Stop up every cranny, crevasse or space
And in my brain-pan leave no trace
Of who we were or how I loved you
Erase all vestiges, every one so true

Each day grows long, its night as well
Since you left me here adrift in hell
When breathing ends,does pain stop too
Knew I for sure,soon would I join you

But courage fails me, as it always did
Still,your leaving makes me want to rid
The world of every breath I’m breathing
My thoughts are all consumed with leaving

I think too much on death

I think too much on death, yet each tomorrow
I praise the morning light and plan the day to follow.
At evening when I draw the drapes against the early dark
My face, reflected back at me, shows a lingering spark
Within my darkened eyes, my sunken cheeks, my long
Wrinkled face - Who is this hag who believes her small song
Is worth the singers time? While others young and fair
Their beauty crumbles, their strong limbs break and tear
Cut down in their prime of life while she still creaking goes
A question that is often asked – the answer no one knows
We weep, we mourn, we shout our anger to the sky
We beg, we stoop, we grovel, will someone tell us why
This one stays and that one goes? we suffer and we mourn,
The cycle turns –death followed by the season to be born.

Good prompt, Robert! And I liked your poem. Barbara--beautiful. Hannah, great! Ralph, what a hoot...as a librarian, I can relate. All those school visits! Walt thanks for mentioning me.

Well, I've been struggling with a fall peom for several days and then this prompt happened. It made it all "fall" into place. Only this turned out to be a song. Not sure what I think about it, I've never written a song before. I must have rhyme in the blood today, as I don't usually rhyme except in the kid's books or when writing a formal style. Anyway, I can't write music! If anyone can sing it, let me know. Shutta

*************

I Think I’ll Keep Walking . . .

The hill up ahead is shrouded in gloom
Black birds have claimed the tops of the trees
Out of this fog ghosts suddenly loom
To make me remember sad memories

(chorus)
Where the world stops, I haven’t a clue
Perhaps I’ll step off it and run into you
All that I know is, I’ve paid what is due
Don’t make me remember those days loving you

The leaves have gone copper, amber and gold
Awaiting cruel winter and its harsh robberies
I marvel they stand with the grief that they hold
Don’t make me remember sad memories

Where the world stops, I haven’t a clue
Perhaps I’ll step off it and run into you
All that I know is, I’ve paid what is due
Don’t make me remember those days loving you

The ripening grapes are heavy with scent
The tang of crushed apples blows by on the breeze
I think I’ll keep walking ‘til this hurt is spent
And baptize the leaves with my sad memories

Where the world stops, I haven’t a clue
Perhaps I’ll step off it and run into you
All that I know is, I’ve paid what is due
I just need to scatter those days loving you


Shutta

I Think My Ear’s Going to Fall Off

Oh really? I hear you scoff.
Or I’ll get a kink in my neck, or I’ll feel like an old ship wreck.
Or I’ll get so saddle sore, I’ll fall from this chair and hit the floor.
Or I won’t fix supper tonight, and my family will put up a fight.
Or I’ll have to go to bed alone, if I stay much longer on this phone.
It’s because someone dear, doesn’t care if I talk, as long as I hear.

Thank you Shutta, it's an unfortunate mess. I just hope this principal who is already pissed at me get's over this fast.

Ralph.

I think if I could think, I would.

I Think You Know Who You Are.

I think disappointments in life develop character.
I know I've heard that, and I believe it is true.
I think disappointments in life reveal character.
I know I've heard that, and I've seen it in you.

I Think I Left the Circle

Many childhood games
played in circles,
Duck-duck-goose,
and musical chairs,
left us running
around and around
breathlessly to
save our space.

We grew older
and played Spin-the-bottle,
passed oranges
tucked under our chins,
or laid our heads
on each other's bellies
until we rolled in laughter
killing off our friends
with a wink.

Now I run in a circle
where the rules in my workplace
are unspoken, yet known,
and I think I left the circle
before I knew it closed,
yet I am still
breathless,
knowing
I'm out.

Trudi: meditative and lovely, thank you for sharing
Barbara: glad I wasn't the only one who decided to go sonnet ;)
Nikki: I feel your sentiment... go Vonnegut!
Kathleen: heavy stuff... thank you for this
Salvatore: nice!
Alana: heartfelt and beautiful
Daniel Ari: very clever, I love it!
Taylor: I really liked this one, well done!
Hannah: beautiful imagery, as always :)

I think therefore I am:

I think
Therefore I
Am
I guess
And yet
I’m not quite
Sure
I get
The answer
And the
Meaning’s not
Quite clear.
D'you think
I’m here.

I Think About the Perfect Match

I think the perfect match would be
A fight between my mind and me.
Once inside the ring, no doubt,
She’d turn my reason inside out
And jab me with an upper cut
To knock my viewpoint on its butt;
And then she’d hit below the belt
By making fun of how I felt –
“You need some self-esteem,” she’d say,
Then counter punch like Sugar Ray.
I’d duck and dodge, and feign a blow,
But in the end, this truth I know –
She’d win it with a TKO
And knock some sense into my brain
Until we meet to fight again.

Marian, strong piece.

Shutta, thanks for the mention and beautiful descriptions!

Marie, first you make me laugh then you make me think, nice combo good work!

Joseph, glad you liked it!

What a lovely Wednesday it's been!

I Think One Day

I think one day
I will write something
so amazing
that the whole
frickin'
world
will stand up
on their feet
cheering,
"MY GOD
SHE IS AMAZING!
WHY CAN'T I
WRITE LIKE THAT?"

And then
my ass
twitches with a pain
that shouts,
"YOU HAVE BEEN SITTING
IN THAT SAME SPOT
LONG ENOUGH.
GET OFF YOUR ASS
AND MOVE!"

I think one day
I will completely
give up caring
what everyone else
is saying
at stand up and shout,
"ARE YOU EVEN
LISTENING?"

And then I will write
an AMAZING POEM
leaving
even you
impressed
and speechless.

I Think Therefore I Am

I’m
Scared,
Bewildered,
Sorry,
Resilient,
Falling to pieces while
Maintaining my
Strength

I’m
Learning,
Growing,
Trying,
Crying,
Laughing,
Hurting,
Needing you by my
Side

I’m
Never going to
Forget
I’m wrestling with my
Past,
Bound to complete my
Future
I don’t trust,
For good reason but
I’m still here and that
Has to count for
Something

I think
I’m going to be
Okay

I Think Of Death

I think how odd it is
for me to think
of death. Many years
spent in hot pursuit
of causing it myself,
imaging the snow-silent
peace of serenity.

Now, not a day dawns
without me thinking of how
many more years I will have
on this earth and panicking,
because what if I am
not making the best use
of those remaining years?

Thank you so very much, Walt, for the lovely poem. I can't tell you what it means to me to have been included in such wonderful company.
Lovin' the dust bunnies, Daniel. :)
Thank you for the kudos, Joseph. And as usual, you wow me with your creative insight and passion.
Another great one from Trudi.
Love it, Barbara! I resemble that...
Nikki Markle: I read, read, and re-read. Great poetry! Hope you are feeling better.
Thank you, Hannah. :)
Robert: I like the revised version best. Daniel P. hit the nail on the head ... exactly my way of thinking. Choices of line breaks, word, and word placement always fascinate me. Yes --- definitely the revised version.
Barbara_Y: I read your untitled piece outloud to my daughter on the phone. It helped get her out of a funk. ;)
Walt: I think I should stop thinking once in a while is my son exactly. (I've just mentioned two of my three kids back-to-back. What's the deal with that?) He can't shut it off ... but I thought of him when I read Joseph's, as that described my son also.
"and all the people in it are square with their ideas locked in the space of square brain pans" ... who thinks of these fascinating ideas?! Great stuff, Salvatore.
Amen, Alana.
Oh, as usual, this is getting ridiculous. Suffice it to say you have all made my reading time sooo very enjoyable. Just one more shout though: Shutta, you are one amazing writer. You are definately a standout to me.

oops! "imaging" should be "imagining"

I Think Mostly Before Bedtime

It's like all my thoughts
jump into a food blender,
pack in tight,
shouting their own little rant,
and hit the 'on' button.

I think the end will come

softly
the way your father
used to carry you
after the bridge parties
you
s p r a w l e d in your footie pajamas

OUT COLD

the neighbors’ hushed so-longs sounding

like a secret tide receding as he

carried you to the car

the cool night licking
your skin
and stars
rumors of gold
over mother’s perfume
sweet, exotic, the scent of
paradise and baby powder

perhaps
clasped in absolute certainty

and the hum
I so hope
of the smooth road

sounding

homehomehomehomehomehome

I Think mp3 Players are Weak

It feels like waiting for my crush to come out of class,
and timing things just right so I can bump into him in the hallway.
When the DJ announces the new single I’ve anticipated
will play sometime in the next hour and I should “stay tuned”
I stay within an arm’s reach of the record button
so I can capture the entire track.
Partial songs sound sloppy and I want things just right
when I confess my true feelings and pour out my soul
into a mix tape for my crush.

Just came in from a walk in the rain.... And, Marie Elena, this one should definitely be sung. Here’s the tune: da da da da da da da da (giggle giggle giggle)

I hope the spacing stays when I copy & paste this, cause it’s gonna lose a lot in translation.Nope - didn't work. I'll use dots instead.


I Think I’ll Stay

It’s a rainy night in BC and the clouds are hanging low
It’s warm and wet and windy and I’ve got nowhere to go
So I just keep on walkin till I come to your door

And there’s nothin I want more
.....than to see your smile
.....when you see my face

And there’s nothin I want more
.....than to be here
........in this place

I think I’ll stay a while
.....and be blessed by your smile
Cause there’s nothin I want more
.....than to be here
........in this place

Sweet, Trudi. Sometimes you just have to write a song (I've had waltzes in my head all week, with big swooping pauses)

:I think I miss her arms:

There was a time when I was an apple
A drop of blood and tiny dancing seeds
Worming through branching out
Bred and sacked like a baguette
Toted and doted and fondled with love

I became a silk screen a loom a festoon
Of threads laced around her neck
Broken down to tiny bits of her own flesh
Carried like a marionette pinned to her
Breast and neck like an amulet
That soon began to wear her down and out

And then she left me to the ground
Soft earth and clay rocks and pebbled play
Weaving my own way dangled
And dancing crawling now walking now
Just out of reach and free of touch
Brazen and free as a vagrant breeze
Too much to be taken back

Breaking the chord that binds us
Stretching out and taking up my own roots
To plant in a new field apart from her plot
Scared of what I am not and what she
Is not what we have become together apart
From a stone to a boulder can I weigh her down
Bridging and gapped like a caged bird untrapped
Too heavy now to hold

D. Dyson: I can relate
Brian: Beautiful, haunting ... So much captured here. So much.
Megan: You made me smile. That's how my husband and I met.
Trudi: I'm hearin' it. I'm likin' it. :) :) :)
Khara: How incredibly imaginitive! Excellent, as usual.

Theresa: Missing your voice and sending cookie-and-wedding smiles your way.

Still wanting Brett to 'fess up to stuffing Heiberg in a shoebox. BRETT?!

Safe Harbor

Oars dipping in and out
rowing on and on
consistency
thick deepening wash

the push and pull
I think
of arms that ache
to sweep again their arc
in hope of shore

some collateral
more durable
than wavering rolls
lifting and falling back

always salty dampness
blue sparkle
too bright for views
beyond
this transient little boat
that holds and holds us
none-the-less

Walt: What an honor, I've been Wojtaniked! And I loved the "STOP THINKING" poem!
Chev: Beautiful imagery in your poem, really beautiful
Marie Elena: I love your repost! It makes me dizzy, haha. And the jack-o-lantern poem was delightful.
Michelle: One drink; not a drop more! Haha, very entertaining.
banana: Nicely expressed tribute to thinking
Nikki: "Azure is my potential"-- LOVE this line (and your poem)
Salvatore: As always I'm a fan
alana: Haunting, very beautiful!

Enjoying all the poetry readings this morning ... in fact you've given me my much needed boost to make it another couple hours (it's 4:50 am here) to finish some course work! Yah :)

To all the poets here who respond to Robert's Wednesday Poetic Aside prompts, I just wanted to say I read them all and feel so blessed to be counted among you! Poetry, long may it wave!

Salvatore Buttaci

Beautiful, Jane.

Khara: Thanks for your kind words! But 4:50 a.m.? Get some sleep, sweetie! ...Mom. I mean Marie.

Just for fun:


I Thinks Therefore I Yam What I Yam


I’m havin’ doubts about meself, Doc.
Foist, I seems to have a thing for skinny goils,
I mean Olive looks anor-ex-kic, don’t she?
An’ Bluto – why is he always pickin’ a fight?
Maybe he’s just got anger issues.
I worries ‘bout Swee’Pea –
I mean, who’s his real father?
I gotta do somethin’ about these
overdeveloped forearms,
an’ maybe I needs glasses
to gets rid o’ this squint.
I gotta gives up smokin’,
and y' know, I’ve been outta
the Navy fer years;
it’s time to ditch the sailor suit.
An’ this cravin’ for spinach –
maybe I just gots an iron defish-cancy.
An’ someday I gotta do somethin’
about me speech impeg-iment.
What’s that? You think I’m right?
I’m showin’ insight an’ great progress?
Well, blow me down!

Brian--footie pajamas and a mother's perfune. Absolutely enchanting. Thank you so much for posting this! Jane really like SAFE HARBOR, reminds me of one I wrote about some who travel out too far. And Alana--beautiful poem, too.
So many good ones here! Thanks, all.

Shutta

Funny, Bruce! You and Walt should get together and do Popeye impressions some evening. Let me know when and where. ;)

I think I am not alone

I think I am confused;
This problem has to be defused.

I simply am not amused;
By feeling so used.

I think I have learned;
To run away when your voice is heard.

What do you want from me? Go away.
Hear me now. There can't be another way.

Why do you plague me so?
This body is mine; yet you are here without my say so.

Who do I need to beseech?
Please make my prayers reach.

How do you send up a prayer;
When you have to contend with a naysayer?

I will hide and grow strong;
And kick this impostor out before long.

I will bolt down the door;
So this menace can plague me no more.

I think I am finally relaxing;
This episode was surely taxing.

Meena

Daniel P--loved the dust bunnies one
Hannah--Farm thoughts--lovely
Barbara--"almost as simple as a plain dry wish" !
Daniel A--good giggles overlaying depth with Descarte
Taylor--I've never read ONE of yours that I just shrugged my shoulders at. Excellent!


That's as far as I had time to read. Back later.


Walking on Water

I think the world is upside down.
Won't that make it so?
I think I'll run off the edge of the sky
to flap and fly--wheel and dive.
Watch me go.
I think I'll climb up the waterfall
rock to rock, hand over hand.
I think I'll skip on the skirt of the sea
leaving not one track in the sand.



Ghost Garden

I think of iris and purple phlox
in a garden long tilled
or buried in weeds,
where lovers once walked
and children stayed,
playing past twilight
to see and catch fireflies
and breathe the sweetness
released by dew.
Can the fragrance linger?
If I close my eyes
does the spirit of the garden
hover above barren ground?
Will it's time come circling round?


And a last one for last weeks "out of place"


October Azalea

Hot pink splotches--three of them--
smile up at October sky--
never meant to bloom til May.
Almost I can see God's hand
gently brushing the branches,
pulling from them this glory
as grace in my shattered world.

Walt: Thanks for the mention.
Nikki: your shades of BLUE... FABULOUS....
Shiela: awesome job (your cohort at the CEDAR MILL writing group)
Ralph: you amaze me. you have written all the longest poems I have ever seen.
Nancy: I think therefore I am exhausted... Great job capturing the brain that won't idle down.

Meena

I think I need to warm up

the chapbook poetry challenge is at hand
and when was the last time I
jumped into this blog?

sure, I walked by the three boards
hung on my pantry door
jammed with magnetic poetry words
and rearranged them a few times

I played with words on my phone's Notepad
while I walked the bridge across the river
but with the October days ticking by
I'd better get serious
about silliness and word play
and sounds and images and giddy autumn joy

time to fish for words or cut Fate
the agnostic's word for God
Who grants poetic gifts
maybe not to me
but I wish it so.

I think I think too much

Feeling your loss
I'm hurting for you
I can't help but think
I think too much

Loving you
From near or afar
Was what I did
I think too much

Pondering my decisions
Am I right or wrong
missing your companionship
I think too much

I Think I Learned Her Lesson
........................True story of my sister back in the day…

Teen daughter came home with huge dent in new car
One beautiful September morn.
“And what happened here?” asked the dad of the teen,
Quite patiently -- showing no scorn.
Teen daughter looked innocently at her dad,
As if as confounded as he.
“What do you mean?” were the words from her lips,
And dad’s patience dropped down a degree.
“What do you mean, what do I mean?”
Teen daughter’s dad tried to be calm,
“Was this car dented when you left the drive?”
Teen daughter was wishing for mom.
Silence ensued as her dad’s anger brewed,
But then the teen cautiously said,
“I think,” the teen paused, “that I hit a red truck.”
Then the truck wasn’t all that was red.

Marie: Sleep? What is this "sleep" you speak of? No, never went to bed last night ... at this point I've pretty much resigned myself to a true all-nighter experience ... oh joy.

A BIG CONGRATULATIONS to Marie-Elizabeth Mali for being selected as the 2009 Poetic Asides "Poet Laureate". KUDOS for a job well done!
From your fellow-poet of "The Living Poets Society" Sir Richard-Merlin Atwater

I Think-- Therefore…
© Rich Atwater October 15, 2009

I think, therefore “I am”,
For to think is required “to be”.
A person with brains must think for himself,
Or he might as well go live up in a tree!

A bird has a nest up above
As a house, but he thinks with “bird brain”;
And a chimpanzee swings from the branches,
But he’s somewhere down on the food chain.

But a man, or a woman, created by God,
Has evolved from a spiritual plain.
One must think and surmise, or be caught by surprise,
If he wants to be recognized as “one with a brain”.

If you think you can do: “it’s done”,
For whatever the mind can conceive,
And believe without doubt it can be done,
Will soon realize it has been achieved.

For Shakespeare was true to his word:
“To be”, or “not to be”, said he, is the question for all.
You either become, or remain just a bum,
So put on your thinking cap and “get on the ball”.

As Moses asked the Big Question of God:
“Who shall I say has sent me “to do”?
“I am that I am”, as a God of thought,
For I think, and thus I say, it must be so!

So if you desire to be a person of thought,
Then think, and deeply ponder it too:
“The meaning of life”, a man or a wife,
With children as FAMILY, is what we should do.

Obey the command from Garden of Eden,
To multiply, replenish the earth, and subdue.
For relationships in love under God,
United, and sealed up to exaltation, is the way to happiness, true!

Robert: Love the second version, it just seems to flow better.
Jane Penland Hoover: How nice to see your name again, and with a lovely poem to boot.

Everyone else: Too many wonderful poems to select shout-outs.

Got stuck in a loop that wouldn't let me post my comment. Let's try this again...

Haven't had time to be online here much lately. (Hannah, the chicken imagery is lovely--makes me think of my hens.)

Here's my quick try:

“I think myself into a hole”

Deep and dark, where light can’t reach,
is the hole my mind has dug,
where worry weighs on my
shoulders with clammy hands
that pull the noose tight.
Black thoughts, each a clod of dirt
thrown in the grave
of my own making.

Put the shovel down,
brush away the cobwebs,
tangled with confusion.
Embrace the rich fertility,
the depths and darkness.
Then let the heart shine light,
show where the ancestors left handholds,
the roots the spirit climbs
to the stars.

Thank you Penny and Kit for the shouts much appreciated!

Excellent writing everyone!

I think...

That I have thought about it long enough...

I think that it is time to...

Call it a day.


Walt--what a great tribute to the trio! It was an honor to be included with others in your poem.

Hannah--Fall is always back to the land time for me--so many memories of growing up in the country, always being aware of the changing seasons and their effect on the land--loved reading your words.

Patricia PM27

I Think I'm Still Nuts

My shrink told me I'm doing great
on my the regimen of eight
fat pills a day plus vitamins
and herb tea (watch out for the stems)

My therapist says she feels I feel
I'm in command, both hands on the wheel
Talking surely helps to heal
old wounds, although the scabs still peel

My husband's grateful for his wife
who's found a handle on her life
Making music instead of wallowing
Keeping food in after swallowing

For fifty years or so I've cried
so much the tears have never dried
And even though the sobs are missing
Deep inside, a cauldron's hissing

Amy Barlow Liberatore
PTSD, manic-depressive, panic-repressive!

I Think

I think I thought
A thought did I think
A thought so thoughtful
That it made me think
How did I think
Such a thoughtful thought
How thoughtful of me
To think such a thought

So I sat and thought
On that thoughtful thought
And began to think
A whole new thought
Then that new thought
Led my thinker to think
Thought after thought
So much more to think

Then my thinks and thoughts
Got all tied up in knots
And my thoughts and thinks
Refused to unkink
So I thought, why not
Clear out all the thoughts
I would have to think
‘Bout a drain in a sink

So I thought of a sink
And I pulled out the plug
Thought after thought
Drained out, glug, glug
‘Till they were all gone
No more thoughtful thoughts
Not even the first little
Thought that I thought

So I sat and I thought
But all was for naught
The thought I once thought
That thought I begot
That thought, I did think
Was now in the drink
So much does that stink
Go away, I must think

Robert--Just visited the link to your poem--the picture is perfect--just the right touch to capture the delight of stepping in puddles!

Amy--take care, out there--keep writing!


Patricia

I wrote this, this morning before I went to work, then when I went to post it, my computer crashed. Luckily nothing was lost. Enjoy.

I think I understand

They’ll remember when you were weak
but, never when you were strong
They’ll remember the words you speak
but, only on the days you were wrong

They remember the cloths you’ve worn
and the one’s you’ll wear from days’ before
They remember cloth’s you’ve torn
when so much less to you
to them means so much more

Never the words you say
when you want them to listen
You can only hope and pray
it’s all sinking in and
not something they’re missing


They remember every trip and fall
as they recall every mistake
Oh lord, they remember it all
even the mistakes you fake

They remember the times your’ there
They know when your out
they know when you care
Yes, they all know what your’ about

To them your’ an icon
who is not supposed to ere’
they see you as an automaton
who they wish wasn’t there

Then when your’ out
they tell you how you were missed
appeasing hidden doubt
they’ll ask why over and over,
with that questions persist

No matter how hard you try
no matter how many classes there are
you’ll never understand why
they are the way they are

All you can give is your best
Hope it’s enough that they go far
in the end help them pass life’s test
after all, in their lives, you’re the star. . .

©Ralph J. Fitcher, October 15, 2009, just came to me.

I think sometimes a fantasy


It’s not that I don’t enjoy my part
in this our shared reality
In my heart
there is no place I’d rather be. . .

©Brett Miles, October 15, 2009, a different kind of poem.

This was supposed to be longer, but there is nothing that would enhance this piece beyond the
imagination.

Thank you Meena, there is a short one up you can enjoy under my other pen name Brett Miles.

Ralph

Pleased that you enjoyed this, Patricia. I love being in a place where the seasons are so different, really keeps the muse on her toes. :) Thank you!

Have to come back to read later. Became grandma for 12th time Tues. so have more irons in the fire.

Walt, Wow! Is there anything you can't write?
Maarie Elena, creepy stare poem!
Walt on the Stop Thinking one, LOL "You'll find that hard to swallow!"

Now for my short offering before I fly outta here:

I THINK

The only way to fix the fix we’re in
is to confess to God, “We’ve sinned.”
Then turn from ways that displease Him
and become different people than we’ve ever been.

My assignment for this week.

I think

When I am not sleeping.
When I am not eating.
When I am not feeling up.
When I am not feeling down.
When I am not feeling

much of anything.

When my thoughts dwell not
in the shade of memories,
Of times when I was young,
Of times when we were one,
Of times when the world brought -

fewer injuries.

I think...

Then I want to feel
And remember the past.
This is just the way it is
And I know it can not last.

And the sting of the wound
is like the kiss of the wasp.
Here on arrival far to soon
with biting bittersweet loss.

Robert,

I like this revision because it is a clearer statement. I have one revision I'll suggest. I prefer "could" over "should" because it opens up possibilities. If the poem were meant for young children, then "should" is the better word because they are used to being told what they should do. If it is written for older children or adults, then "could" is the word because few of us like being told what we should do after a certain age.

The revision with my suggestion.

"I think the world is a pin cushion"

There's a space between everyday matters
that makes someone feel every day matters,
a breath or sigh in the darkness. We surround
our time with excuses and distractions, bind
those we love with commitments when we could be
splashing around in dark puddles while the rain
covers us in nothing more than what it is.

Nothing too deep this week....just a little ditty

I think about the past

I think about the past
while I am sitting here today
and think that in the future
I will find a better way to
go about the present,
taking each day as it comes,
then passing up on moments
now 'cause what is past is done.

Excellent suggestion, Dennis!

I think of sleep
(For Khara, Walt, and other sleep-deprived dearies)

I think of sleep,
I count my sheep,
And IF I sleep,
It isn’t deep.

And as thoughts brew,
They go askew.
I’m telling you
It’s like word stew.

And I have friends which
Give the pitch,
“Just flip the switch.”
Now, that’s just rich.

They’re not impressed.
They can’t digest,
For they’ve been blessed
With ample rest.

A shallow snooze,
An active muse,
The thoughts suffuse
My brain. I lose.

NANCY! I should have included you in my "I think of sleep" poem. Consider yourself included. :)

I think my brother-in-law is an ass

I have several of them, married
to three out of four sisters –
one got lucky on her second.

I'm not sure where my husband
lies in their ass-o-meter spectrum,
but they'd tell me if I asked.

Back to the asses. One is an
opinionated ass. Another, a wife
beating ass. The third, I'm the

most important ass in the room.
Lastly, the controlling ass. Except
for the wifebeater, I've dated similar

asses. So why have we, collectively,
been drawn to these types of asses?
Perhaps it's our emotionally distant

father, disappointed in his flock of
daughters when only a son would
make him a happy parent. Perhaps

it's the barreness we internalized
in the isolated villages of the north. Or
maybe it's the ugly words which sunk

into our skin, reinforcing this erroneous
belief: We don't deserve any better.

I think
you thought
I would stay.
As if tomorrow
were a day I wanted to die
again and again and again to myself
atrophied and strange and struggling for every breath.

I think
you thought
I would keep the name.
As if married monikers
were daisy chains
to be permanently woven into the fabric of my being
instead of cast into the wind, subject to the tricky art of heart’s intentional amnesia.

I think
I thought
you might be right.
But then I thought some more
and one day found myself
in another life with another name once again falling
into the soft, safe arms of forgetfulness and forgiveness and faith.

I think.

I think
strange thoughts
when others aren’t looking.
Because my mind is my own and it’s kind of crazy in the there.

I dream strange dreams
when others aren’t sleeping.
Because sunlight is best for growing even if it means you need shades.

I pen strange poems
when others aren’t reading.
Because words are ever worthy of affection and sometimes they even love back.

I Think We’re Alone Now

You were the wraparound porch involved with my
door. But this off-centered post on the couch
cautions like a No Rest Stop Until X Miles sign
on a road, whose tarmac sighs under
the occasional quad of tires:
take the next exit out.

The tv light flips on you. I have one
foot in the family room, the other taps
the kitchen’s cream tiled horizon. Silence
turns restlessly in the tombs of my
ears as you glare at the Bear’s
replayed interception. The conversation
sprints in my throat- trips on its big feet,

again. We fell asleep. The cigar of habit
slipped from winter-wheat fingers. Guts
and glory were things we left in the fire.
Memory ebbs in the smoke.

But breath that pushes a reprieve could pave
the autumn light in this middle-aged house. We
could follow the route to where we dropped
little plans as the big plan mortgaged
our union. We could set hope off to fly
southbound like a mallard in December.

A thinking girl’s fib.

I
think
you lied.
In fact I
know it to be true.
When the masks were shed you stood still
and watched my tears fall cold like stones.
And here’s the raw truth:
I think I’d
like to
thank
you.

De Queen on display! Wow!

Excellent, Yoly. Haven't seen you in a while.

All:

Please forgive my interruption of this excellent poetry. If any of you know anything about CIDP, will you please contact me on facebook? I’m under my full name: Marie Elena Good. Thanks so much.

I think that I may have missed something


if wishes were dishes the counter
would sag and groan
with the weight of them
waiting attention from me
worn ones and untouched alike
gather dust
grow mold
filled ones by empty
stacked, tottering, tilt
next to glasses,
empty by the half full
already there and answering prayers
while I wish them gone
and pour out my heart
dreaming of things
that I already have

'I think' I am guilty of drive-by poem dropping these days, as life steals my time as well as my very breath...but just caught yours, Barbara Y. Astounding. I can so relate. Incredibly, simply, beautifully put.

Yoly, De, Marie and Sally, excellent work ladies!

Khara, Kit, AC, and Yoly... fantastic fantastic stuff!

I THINK ABOUT…
LITTLE THINGS

Pondering loves depth
exemplified by life.
Observing a marble
in the palm of cupped
hand; light that's
magnified through it.
Rearranging beads on
life's strand, stones
glass, silver, amassed.
Collection of decisions;
strung nimbly before me.
Each string's end held
firmly, while I consider
delicately, the very order.
Ruminating on the beads
and bits of color lovingly.

~Hannah Gosselin

I think you jest
(A loving and joking response to Maria Elena's "I think of sleep")

‘Tis college-sworn
To ne’er adjourn
Upon thy dorm
‘Til early morn

So you must jest
When you suggest
You think it best
That I should rest

As if I could
Or even should
Maybe I would
If it was good

But better still
I think I will
Enjoy the thrill
From windowsill

Of the surprise
Before my eyes
The hues and highs
Of the sunrise

Nice Khara!

...and I just had to post the 111th posting spot! Love 11's!!

I think everybody should just shut up


climbing through the crowds
west broadway and reade
the crazy man talks to himself
next to the business guy on his cell
I cant think when two girls gossip
the cabbie leans on the horn so long
get your free newspaper right here
firetruck horn vaporizes anything in its way
train yells stand clear of the closing doors
music blasting off the subway tile walls and floors
at my desk, phone rings and I answer,
while a coworker tells me how easy the favor he's asking
an ipod belts out rap, earphones to the breaking
this alarm is just a test,
who ordered food at the front desk?
I cant hear you, who's this?
Its me, do you have a minute,
gimme a second, hand over handset
"I think everbody should just shut up"

I’m not sure if this is a poem or a rant. Either way, I think I liked writing it.

I Think You Stink

I used to think I loved you.
Aaah. It sounded so nice-
“I love you.”
Sigh.

But now that I’m older
and my brain cells are more powerful and alert
than my rampaging hormones
and the warm fuzzy stupid pink part of me that wants to be loved,
no matter what,
I can tell you that

I like my daughters more than you
I like my car more than you
I like my dog more than you
I like my socks more than you
and sure as hell, I like myself more than you

Ya know what?
You never deserved me in the first place.

I Think About Animals

There are no straight lines anywhere on a cat.
They curl and move like purring water
while they, like water,
wear down any resistance to get what they want.

****

My dog loves me.
Unreservedly, unquestionably, wholeheartedly,
loves me to the point of silliness, of great wide-mouthed grins,
of entire body wiggles.
My dog knows how to LOVE!

****

I would like to be a seagull, please, Lord,
if I get the chance to come back.
To have that wild crazy cry
and the exquisite grace to ride the wind.

****
(Ya gotta sing this one with a western cowboy twang)

When I get to heaven, and I see the Lord.
I know I’ll have a question I’m sure He’s heard before.
I hope that I remember to ask Him to his face
about a big old problem that I’ve had in this place.

Why slugs, Lord? Can You please explain
why they have to show up when You make it rain.
I hate their slurpy bodies, I hate their slimy trails.
Whenever I get close to one, my admiration fails.

Why slugs, Lord? I hate to disagree
with anything You created, but I just cannot see
why they had to be on board when the ark began to float.
The unicorns could have had their place on Noah’s big old boat.

(My code is MW GAG!!! Outrageous!)

Thanks, Hannah!

And apologies to Maria Elena ... in one of my posts I typed your name as "Marie"!! As someone who's been plenty annoyed with people spelling her name wrong, I gotta submit an apology for my own mistake! :) soo

i think i must apologize

i think i must apologize
for both my fingers and my eyes
the fingers rapid on the keys
have made mistakes quite frequently
but mostly it's my eyes to blame
who, i'll admit with loads of shame,
tend to forget to check it out
when vagrant fingers roam about
for them there isn't much to say
that seem to love more "e"s than "a"
so please accept this humble rhyme
where i'll repeat it one last time
for both these fingers and my eyes
i sincerely apologize! :D

Barbara, Hannah, Khara, Trebor, Trudi ... loved all! Trudi,your joy in writing always shines!

Khara, your sleep poem response cracked me up! Spoken like a true college student. :) But I think you were sleeping when you wrote your apology. Not that an apology is necessary, but "Marie Elena" is correct. It's that doggone Waltar ... he threw you off track. I'm quite sure of it. HA! ;) But I love the poem and the sentiment. Now ... GET SOME REST. :)

Oh ... snap. Well there's no way I'm writing another one, haha, so I guess the real lesson here is ... caffeine? ;) just kidding ... going to bed now.

I THINK THIS HAPPENED

therefore I am
thinking
of an afternoon
at Wal-mart
years ago when
my job was
pushing a day cart
and Ergo Sum
was my boss
a mean old Latin
who never thought
things out
and one morning
in his office
sat me down
and said
(exhaling
hellish vapors)
"Cogito, you're fired!"

#

Marie Elena,

Your poem about dozing... A little verse? ;> ) !

Maria Elena, I sometimes come in and read the wonderful poems and attempt sometimes to write from the prompts but it doesn't always work out. : ) Thank you for your kind words.
Hannah and Joseph, thank you muchly.
Your comments are greatly appreciated.

The Century Plant in my greenhouse



I think it must be the ugliest thing
that anyone ever grew on purpose.
Long and lanky with no redeeming grace,
it lurks in the North corner's partial shade
like a shy girl at the seventh grade dance
until, at the end of one awkward branch,
a wee bump buds and begins its swelling.
Every day at bedtime we must all trek
by flashlight through the darkness for a peek.
The fool thing only spreads its white petals
once in a hundred years and in the dark.
They say its fragrance is magnificent.
And in its native land there is one moth
that flies a great distance to pollinate
this one flowering of a homely plant.
We dare not miss one night, for by morning
it will be wrung dry as a limp dish rag.
Like moths we flutter round the opened bloom,
twittering how it was well worth the wait.
A month later the whole thing ups and dies.

Question for Robert--is it fair to sometimes count on common pronunciation when doing counted sylables? For example, in Century Plant, above, where each line is meant to have 10 beats, line 8 starts with "every", and I count on everyone reading "evry"

I think I am also guilty

I believe I am guilty of the drive by too
though, I am not quite certain what I'd do
Where I stay and sit a spell with you
No,I am guilty of the drive by too. . .

Brett who is trying to confuse Ralph again.

In a Blues mood...with apologies to Mr. Dylan



Think It's Gonna Rain

Been a hard Fall,
knocked off my feet.
Been a hard Fall
on wounded knees.
Hear my heart,
I'm beggin' please!
Been a hard Fall--
think it's gonna rain.

Been a hard Fall,
with broken bones;
such a hard Fall,
can't get up on my own.
The Flood's a-comin'
and I'm a stone!
Been a hard Fall--
think it's gonna rain.

Gonna rain--
Gonna howl--
Gonna storm!
Goddamn the pain--
Learned to fight
just to be born!

Oh but it's been a hard Fall,
I'm on my ass.
Hope Winter dreams
will come to pass.
Unfurl that sail
before the mast!
Been a hard Fall--
think it's gonna rain

Hard Fall's gonna rain...
Hard Fall's gonna rain.....

I THINK; THEREFORE, I’M SCREWED!

René Descartes was who he was,
by saying he was.

He thought,
therefore,
he was a being in this life.

I am in this life,
but sometimes,
I’m not sure I’m all here.

Some days,
I’m so sure of myself,
I know I could take on the world
and make it better.

Other days,
I’m screwed –
knowing that if I try to make a decision on my own,
I will not only mess up my own life,
but the lives of everyone I know!

I do think…
I’m just not sure
I have all my marbles!

I think the © some poets use

must stand for chimera, a beast
believed to be fiery-breathed and
capable of guarding their
treasured words from the
ravening hands of a poetry thief
who would snatch, sell their
verbal gems to the highest bidder
or print them wholesale on
t-shirts and hats or turn them into
screenplays for rhythmic blockbusters
leaving these poets crying outside the
theater, robbed and unlaurelled.

Yes, this capital C, encircled by an
impregnable wall would certainly
repel all who dare attempt to
appropriate the lofty thoughts they
protect, but maybe it’s just a
painted beauty mark or the brand of an
imaginary ranch, the Crazy O,
where the monsters of fame and ego
graze protected, forgetting that
the butcher soon arrives.

I Think of the Three Sisters

I think...
I am the oasis in the dry scorched desert.
I am the first ray of sun peeking through the clouds.
I am the first drop of rain on the dry parched land.
I am Hope.

I think...
I am the blade of grass that survived the storm.
I am the stillness amidst the chaos.
I am the phoenix that emerged from the ashes.
I am Faith.

I think...
I am the cosmic river flowing into the universe.
I am the oak tree who gives shelter to others.
I am the drop of water that revived a tree.
I am Charity.

Meena

Absolutely BEAUTIFUL, Meena Rose. It's so hard to believe you've just begun writing poetry Asounding.

Penny, that's a great question you ask. I've wondered the same, and have taken liberties myself.

Cognito Ergo Sum

‘Meditations on First Philosophy’
was criticized by Kierkegaarde,
saying the pre-supposition of the concept of ‘I’
showed blatant disregaarde

since ‘cogito’ could not be a logical argument.
In fact, it was logically trivial.
But perhaps that was only because they’d never gone out
for a drink or repast convivial.

So, is there something to the words:
“Je pense donc je suis?”
Well, I don’t claim to be a philosopher
but on this one point I must agree...

if I think I am, then I am, I think
since if I pinch myself, I know it will smart.
And if I’m at the grocery store
I think I must pay for what’s in Descartes.

Bravo, RJ! One of your best, for certain. Wish I had an intelligent, witty comeback. ;)

I Think People are Strange
Explain normal
People are strange
Compared to what?
I compare to my norm, I deduct the negative
I come up with a conclusion, but who am I to judge?

Thanks for the chuckles R.J.

I think death wouldn’t be so bad


I think death wouldn’t be so bad
yep, even death would be better
than the day I’ve had
Certainly, I’d prefer to forget her

I’m just not to be dealt that card
To much to remind me
That life is meant to be hard
often filled with the wrong company

Of course, things did not start out that way
But, like any good country song
just a little at a time, the day went astray
until just everything had gone wrong

I’d prefer to have crawled back into bed
Again, life had other plans
designed just for me, instead
and yet, I tried to meet each of life’s demands

As moment by moment, the day fell apart
I’d scream, but no one would listen
now, what do I do, with all this pain in my heart
where it seems to reside without my permission

I think death would not be so bad
yep, even death would be better
than the day I’ve had
yep, she’d kill me, if I’d let her
better, to just up and forget her. . .

©Ralph J. Fitcher, October 17, 2009, I think poem. This poem was inspired by someone I heard
talking in Pathmark, while shopping with my wife. His words just continue to echo through my
mind, so I wrote about them. The first two lines (I think death wouldn’t be so bad
yep, even death would be better) are what the person said, I wrote the rest. I can't help but wonder how bad that persons day must have been to feel that way.

I THINK I'M GONNA BE SICK FOR A WHILE

I opened my window and influenza,
and she's not quite ready to leave,
Sick for a week with no end in sight,
And no hope for me I believe,

My head is congested and thinking is hard,
my breathing is labored for sure,
My joints are all achy, my hands are both shaky,
and I'm in dire need of a cure.

So I'm drinking my fluids 'til it flows from my ears,
and Tylenol when it's required,
plenty of rest with some Vicks on my chest,
and pray I don't wake up expired.

My absence is glaring and this blanket I'm wearing
makes it quite hard to compose,
so I post when I can (or I have a free hand
that's not needed for blowing my nose.)

I'll be taking my time in perfecting my rhyme,
there's no need for exhausting my muse,
And when I fell better I'll get back to work,
and forget the "I'm feeling sick" blues.

Hopefully by Christmas!

Thanks Marie Elena.

Walt: Hopefully that was a poem about being sick and you are not.

Meena

Sick or not,
you're still HOT!
Glad you can compose
in your repose.

Get well, Walt!

I think...

That get well greetings are in order

For a Buffalo poet named Walt

Who is ill and under the weather

Thus explaining why

For almost a week

Few words from the bard

Have come hither...

I think.


Take care, Walt!

PM27

I think I've been a fool.

You will do what you want to do
people are like that.
They ask opinions,
clamour for sympathy
but they have already made up
their minds.

But still I went out on a limb and
allowed myself to worry
because you seemed so bereft.
You said others were coercing you.
So I tried to help and give you strength
by giving some of mine.

Now I wonder, what was true?
My foundations have been shaken
once again and I long
for the honesty of a gentle earthquake
to rock them back into place.

Thanks Meena, Patricia and...Patricia! Yeah, this bug has been debilitating, to say the least. Hopefully, I can establish a bit more strength and muster more time on line. Your concern is heart-warming. And much appreciated!

I THINK ABOUT THE OTHER GUY

The noise drags me down in my head.
You drone on; I feel almost dead.
I am truly not dumb.
Cogito, ergo sum.
For thinking, a lot can be said.

Just go away; don't bother me.
Alone is what I'd like to be,
and I will give a damn.
I think, therefore I am.
I think you're driving me crazy!

W

Finally got to read. What great stuff y'all have posted this week! I remain honored to participate with this crowd and remain excited and encouraged about this writing experience. A sincere "thank you" for sharing so much. OK. OK. I'll stop the mushy stuff now (albeit heartfelt mush). Back to the reading!

W

I Think I've Got a Keeper

I
think
you are
the greatest.
I hope this doesn't
put all kinds of pressure on you.
You're up to the task
of being
all things
to
me.

A loving Fib for my husband, a keeper if there ever was one.

Glad to be back!

Walt--We're all so glad you can't catch any REAL viruses on the computer, that way we can keep sending you virtual hugs.

My grand-daughter and her friend(the ones in the video, and check it out on facebook if you haven't seen it yet) are both down with it. My Alli spent the day in the ER with severe croup and they're pretty sure it's swine flu. Gotta be a poem in there somewhere.

Walt, feel better my friend.

Ralph who is sorry his friend is ill.

Forgive me Theresa, but your poem inspired this. I was going to go for funny, then realized the reality is, it fits many children, so I went for serious.


I think I’ve got a Sleeper

Day after day
class after class
now matter what I say
his attention never lasts

He sits there and doodles
he’ll talk to his neighbor
I’m teaching him oodles
you’d think it was forced labor

Often he will fall asleep
though others will try to awaken
his zz’s are just too deep
all this knowledge he’s forsaken

Yep, I’ve got a sleeper
The more I try
the more his sleep gets deeper
yet, I keep on, though, I don’t know why

I guess, in the end
he’ll receive that awful grade
Unless, my knowledge can transcend
the dreams his mind has made. . .

©Ralph J. Fitcher, October 18, 2009, I think poem, inspired by Theresa’s I think I’ve got a
keeper”

Answer for Penny's question to Robert: I think you're fine, what matters is how it flows for you, not whether some pedant might pronounce every with all three syllables. :) (And who does that, anyway?)
Brian: your copyright symbol one is splendid!
RJ: "I must pay for what's in Descartes"... oh man, that's awful, I love it.
Walt: get well soon!

Thanks Joseph. I'm working on it.

RJ, Lady, that is the truth (what Joseph said), and I as well love the wordplay. You gave me a taste of my own medicine, and I enjoyed the heck out of it!

Ralph and Penny, thanks for the concern and well wishes too. Y'all are keeping me honest and on track. Thank you all.

Robert, I love your poem!

Walt - I haven't had a chance to read much work here this week, but I have seen that you've been under the weather. Best wishes for a full and fast recovery. We need your words! Keep those fluids going.

Thanks T.C. Go Phillies!

Trebor, feeling a little backward are we roberT, whichever roberT you are?

I THINK I LOVE AUGIE DAWGIE

Just a dog,
I've seen in pictures.
Tired and sleepy,
eyes hidden in a sea
of folded fur and jowls
licked clean; paws
stretched and extended.
A yawn and a muffled woof
of canine contentment,
finding its way into my heart.
Missing the days of youth
when a dog was always there
to be the best friend you needed,
when you needed it.
I think I love Augie
(only in a "petonic" way, of course.

Yay! Theresa and Walt are back! :)

"petonic" HA! As Joseph said to RJ, "Oh man, that's awful. I love it!" Yep, Augie definitely wiggles his way into one's heart. :)

Welcome Tooooooooooooozday!

I think ... more or less.

I think I’ll organize my thoughts
In A, B, C, D, E.
A for Airhead-like in nature;
B for Boring as can be;
C for Convoluted Concept;
D for “Don’t Go There, Marie!”
E is for Exemplary. :)
E’s entirely empty. :(

Does It Matter What I Think?

Does it really matter
what I think
since the world stays in motion
in spite of me?

Mommy's should be paid
and shopping should be free
and in lines
no one in front of me

Gas is expensive
and so is milk
it's cold this morning
I don't like silk

Chai is better hot
I look good in pink
But nobody really cares
what I think.

Except maybe when you post your poetry Ginger, then you'll be amazed by who cares what you think! And no matter what Moms would be paid, they's always be underpaid. Nice piece.

I wish that guy would stop commandeering my blog! And my opinion!

PROMPT CODE POETRY: I THINK...

Four thoughts predominate my thinking.
But, besides the usual life, liberty and pursuit,
a common thread
has been scaring my muse,
haunting the passion out of my words.

I THINK OF DANCING

Freeing of rhythm
stirring deeply.
Depths of soul
released. Energy
flows easily.
Breath flows
simply, natural
and pure; exposing
core ingredients
of my heart, my soul.
Ebb and flow of hips
like that in the
motion of waves,
displays an ease
that brings a smile.
I'm pleased to be
swaying, a tree in
the breeze. Not for
anyone but me and
my emotional and
physical well-being.


********************************

Wicked rough piece needs some re-arranging. Regardless here it is.

Nice work all! Especially Meena, loved yours. Walt, with Augie (smiles), Penny and Marie as always. Thanks everybody!

Walt, the guys an idiot. Best not to stress my brother. Just let it go, and know that here we all know and respect you for the poet you are.

Ralph.

Walt another view is (Robert forgive me) opinions are like assholes, everybody has one.

Ralph.

I THINK THIS WAS THE TOUGHEST WEEK OF WRITING
SINCE THE LAST WEEK OF MARCH
(You do the math!)

Finally Wednesday.
I think my brain is exhausted.
My synapses are missing their connection.
If I could Trump my head, they'd all be "Fired".
Somewhat mired in this sinus infection/cold/flu/
I don't know what the hell bit my ass, but still
fighting the good fight; gone most nights with
less sleep than is required to not be declared
alert and effective, a mental defective looking
for his muse to keep him warm (or at least a
toasty blanket, disguised as muse.) I will not refuse
this need to express what no one else can get
inside my head to do; true to form and straight on til
morning. The only warning comes in the guise of
the newest page on my calendar. It says Wednesday.
I think, therefore I am prompted to start anew.
Maybe this next week will be better. Unless, of course,
Robert asks, "If you could be any color, what would it be,
and why?" Short answer? Blue and for reasons only
weeks of therapy could explain! Ouch! There goes my brain.

Well, even when Woj is Walter Wojtanik, he wastes no words of wisdom and wit. Wishing you Wednesday wellness once again, Walt, and a wonderful, wordy Wednesday to all. Whoa! "to all" W's wonderfully. Viola! ;)

Tank ewe Mawie Ewena fow pwoviding us with that wovwy wittow bit ow wondow. Uh-ow. Ewmer Fudd Mowed.

Yerwelcome.

Don't know if anyone will read this since today there is a new prompt, but thanks to Marie for the welcome back and to Walt for the Phillies cheer. Maybe tonight we will clinch!

I'm off to read today's prompt and hopefully get back on the bandwagon.

Thanks for the comments everyone, much appreciated. I'm sorry I don't comment more often.

Walt - Thanks for including me in your poem, which was very well done! :-)