THE GOOD OLD DAYS


Orville with his brother Wilbur invented planes
So we could cross great distances, both land
And oceans wide . Saving time seemed quite sane.
When before flying machines, travel spanned
Sometimes days, causing travelers to leave
Home less often, find delight at backyard
Picnics under trees, quiet Christmas Eves
Around dining-room tables. High regard
For family kept everyone so close:

Children, parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts;
Why even neighbors! You might diagnose
All that as narrow-minded, an odd slant
Away from progress, but consider this:
People attentively gave words their ears.
Forget the internet, MP3 lists!
All those inventions keeping us apart.
Stay-at-home proximity bred less tears.

#

This is one I've been working on a little while. I'll write a new one later. After the big game ... GO BUCKS!!!

Little Libby Loudly

Little Libby Loudly
is appropriately named.
She has a loud and searing voice
that simply must be tamed.

Weensy Willy Whisper,
on the other hand,
Has a soft and wispy voice
That’s hard to understand.

One day, So-and-So,
whose name won’t come to me,
Said, “I have a great idea,
and I think that you’ll agree.

Simply place the two of them
together in a pot.
Stir them up and mix them well,
and set on “not too hot.”

Slowly stir, and mix, and blend
(be gentle, I command),
Then take them out, and we will see
if things went as I’d planned.

Now if my theory is correct,
(as if there’s any doubt),
Little Libby Loudly
will no longer need to shout.

Weensy Willy Whisper,
on the other hand,
will find his former tiny voice
has started to expand.”

At first I thought that So-and-So
was simply being silly.
But then I thought, “This just might work
for Libby and for Willy.”

And so I placed the two of them
together in a pot.
I stirred them up and mixed them well,
and set on “not too hot.”

I slowly stirred, and mixed, and blended;
just as I was taught.
I hoped it worked, because I knew
I only had one shot.

That So-and-So was oh-so-right!
Did you have any doubt?
Little Libby Loudly
now no longer needs to shout!

Weensy Willy Whisper,
on the other hand,
Has found his former tiny voice
has started to expand.

It’s obvious you don’t believe,
and I can’t say I blame you.
Belief in the impossible…
just takes some getting used to.

Nice start, guys!

Day 21 Invention

Invention Prevention

I can't stop progress!

We are going forward into the
unknown...
gizmo's and gadget's
galore.

We can't regress!

We are going forward into a new
dawn...
gizmo's and gadget's
we want more.

© Debra Ann Elliott 2009

Upsetting

The land of a thousand Maybes
is asphalted with horrible doubts.
Potholes fill with lost minor skills.
True accomplishments rarely reign.

Invented infantile mysticism
stained the pastel sky, uncovering
even more unlevel wild plains,
inverted beliefs, dimly held hopes.

The locusts go there to feed on
needs, stealing dreams, spinning
fate, cracking riddles, whispering
into ears of wondering crooks.

It’s not a nice place to visit
although there are people who
live there year round. They see
the sad trees as their boundaries

eat disappointment with relish
swim swiftly downstream in silt
drive gas guzzling routines
invest huge amounts in guilt.

I traveled the trade route from
Rueful indifference to Sorrowful
regret, edging the Maybe inroads
for a season I will never forget.

Upsetting

The land of a thousand Maybes
is asphalted with horrible doubts.
Potholes fill with lost minor skills.
True accomplishments rarely reign.

Invented infantile mysticism
stained the pastel sky, uncovering
even more unlevel wild plains,
inverted beliefs, dimly held hopes.

The locusts go there to feed on
needs, stealing dreams, spinning
fate, cracking riddles, whispering
into ears of wondering crooks.

It’s not a nice place to visit
although there are people who
live there year round. They see
the sad trees as their boundaries

eat disappointment with relish
swim swiftly downstream in silt
drive gas guzzling routines
invest huge amounts in guilt.

I traveled the trade route from
Rueful indifference to Sorrowful
regret, edging the Maybe inroads
for a season I will never forget.

Critical Mass

A million scientists gather
in the most progressive laboratories,
who take simple, inexpensive herbs,
mix with a high degree of intelligence
and creativity,
produce a cure for every cancer,
Alzheimer’s, Multiple Sclerosis,
Lou Gehrig’s, spinal injury,
and every other disease known to man.
The treatments are free.
The government does not control
creation or distribution.
Utopia.

Inventing the Mirror

I wish I could invent a mirror
that shows us how to stop all wars,
teaches how to recognize the causes,
and all the steps that we can take:
wash out hate from every human heart,
so every beat can be for loving,
and we take joy in sharing what we’ve got,
and not in what we’re sadly lacking,
the only armies marching in this world
are loving armies of construction.
Lust and greed can’t give us what we need;
more stuff and junk is not the answer,
peace on earth and happy human hearts
can only happen when we want them.

I'm crazy for attempting this not having done poems for years, but always been fascinated with inventors. Decided to join the fun. Please don't laugh :)

Ringing a Bell for Alexander Graham

AG Bell worked to invent a hearing thing
to help the deaf like his mother and wife.
And instead, he built something
that, for the deaf, caused strife.

His two brothers died, leaving him distraught.
He trudged on in working with speech.
Bell continued to invent more as he sought
to help others, win the Volta and teach.

He financed Volta Lab with his prize
in which Helen Keller helped break ground.
Undoubtedly for many, he struck a chord
as people still remember him for sound.

Meryl K. Evans, November 2009

Query

Does anyone know
the wherefores and whys
re: who invented
googly eyes?

Time Machine

Invent for me a time machine
So I can erase away my mistakes
Embarrassing emails and texts
Gone, never existed
Failed a test
Try again fresh
Bad marriage
Never happened
The list is endless
But then how
Will I ever learn?

Who Invented Yoga?

No one really knows. It has been around for about three thousand years with records of yoga being practiced in India as early as 500 BCE. I can’t help but wonder how it started. Who first came up with this focus on the breath, of moving your body in such a specific and sustained way. Did it start for exercise or was it really more for meditation, a way to connect with the spirit? Have you seen the documentaries that propose Jesus went to India during the years in which he is absent from the Bible? What if he met up with a yogi and learned how to concentrate on his breath. Did he sit in the shade and take it all in – the purpose of human life and the fundamental flaws? Is that when he heard the voice of God asking him if he’d be willing to die to save the whole world? Did he unfold like a lotus into peaceful resignation.

I made up in my mind
Who you would be
Those things that you would like
What you would say
To me
Words of wisdom
Profound
All the time
I decided for you the attitude
Most fitting
Appropriate
And adjusting to my whims
Tone and diction
Verbage and accent
I thought up the personna
The things about you that would
Best compliment
The outfits that I wore
The ways that I style my hair
The color of my shoes
I did all that
Before I realized
How to accept you

Necessity is the Mother of Invention

I wish someone would invent for me
brand spankin’ new technology
which makes the beds and cleans the mess –
that’s all I need, I must confess.

Well, maybe not.
Perhaps it could
mend hems and then
chop firewood.

I’d like it lots
if it would cook
while I’d just sit
and read a book.

And if you please
could it then dust
the whole darn house?
That is a must!

Another thing:
masseuse! masseuse!
Don’t let it break
from overuse.

My wish is just a wish, I know.
Still, it is nice to think on, ‘though
it won’t occur. But I’ll stay calm.
That’s how it is when you’re a mom.

Snuggies

Snuggies must be
one of the most
clever invention
in the world.
So simple.
It’s like that
head-slapping moment
where you say,
“I wish I’d thought of it –
I should have thought of it -
because then I’d be really rich!”
Blankets with pockets and sleeves –
Duh.
But the really brilliant idea
is making them
for dogs, too.

Hmmm - that last code was 6xTNT (Six times dynamite?)

the invention of time
is the low point
of our existence
since it brought
with it the idea
that time passes,
when we all know
time is still here.

Shapes of Grey

Morning fog fuzzes the edges
of fences, trees, a bull grazing.
On the creek blobs I think are ducks float.
Shapes of grey inhabit the earth.
Swimming up through fallen leaves
and violets dotting the grass
a beast with large flat head,
protruding snout, dwindling body.
Only later, fog diminished,
courage gained, do I see
the broken stub left on the sycamore
above.

The Albion Press

In her studio, an Albion press;
little different from those designs
of the 1820s.
She uses it to print the cover
of her latest book;
one hundred copies only
of 'Daughter of Angels'
each numbered and signed:
four hundred loose-leaf pages
in a cardboard box;
each with a small surprise in the lid:
a miniature portal to Faery
just big enough for a goblin.

BRASS KEYS

Each day risen anew
seemingly familiar,
none the less, fresh
new day has dawned.
Plans may roll out
the same as any other
day, we may face some
of the mundane chores
that holds the practical
side of life together.
There's a space that's
reserved for revelation;
each day presenting us
with examples in nature,
in human compassion.
Lessons to be gleaned
on purpose and deeper
meaning. We must step
forth with conscientious,
observant minds, ready
to perceive that which
may enlighten us. Those
discernments that may
bring light to our lives
and the lives of others.
We hold in our hands
keys, glinting in brilliant
light, large, old-fashioned
and brass; each one of us
holds in our hands our own
keys to happiness. Single-
handedly we grasp the
creation of compassionate
environments. A place
souls may thrive and
expand. The weight of
this key, this truth
shall not be ignored.




Poet’s note: Brass holds a double meaning. :)

Contrive to Survive

Desire, boredom, fear,
swirling in a hot cauldron,
losing touch with him,
forced Ann to concoct a plan;
a volcano will erupt.

laurie k.

I am struck by all your entries each day! Thank you for sharing your labors of love.

A bridge is 11-21-09

a structure built to span a valley, road, body of water, or other
physical obstacle, for the purpose of providing passage over the obstacle.
So says Wikipedia.
I say
a bridge is
a place to walk
jog
bike
skate
clamber trusses
meditate
photograph
compose
create
muse
hold hands
laugh
converse
bond
forge memories
drink scenery
build bridges of our own.

Chev, indeed, time is on our side!

Randi, "wish I'd thought of that," my ol' girl would love that. If you come up with a pattern let me know, smiles!

J. Hugh MacDonald, loving the depth, beautiful writing.

Patricia F., makes one think.

Kumarie, "Upsetting," I love how this is written, so expressive.

Meryl, nice work with "Ringing a Bell for Alexander Graham," little glimpse into history. :)

Jessie, loving this thought, I think your onto something and BTW I'm glad for your theme it's a daily reminder for me to get back to my Yoga, especially today’s offering, thank you.

Salvatore, "People attentively gave words their ears," love how you worded this, great meaning.

Marie, "Belief in the impossible just take some getting used to," love your piece today! Have a great game!!

Robert, I love how abstract and galactic your pieces have been these days. Thanks for getting the show on the road for us everyday, I appreciate it! :)

See ya'll later! Have a beautiful Saturday ALL!

Laurie, like the visual of the cauldron, its inevitable result.

Karen, thanks to you also for bringing your bridge of language you so delicately construct.:)

Rachel, where can I get one of those books that's intriguing!:)

When a Small Town and a Cult Interfere

When I was 12, I invented
the mini pad. Each month, as I stuffed
a small diaper into my panties, I thought:

You know, this garter thing is ridiculous!
I wouldn’t need it, if these pads had some Velcro.

I was horrified when I saw
the first commercial advertising
feminine hygiene products with wings.

I wanted to scream: That’s my idea!

Dammit! If only I hadn’t lived
in a small town in East Texas that claimed
313 people, half of whom belonged
to a religious cult. If only I had been gifted
parents who listened instead of spending their lives away
in the Worldwide Church of God, then I might be known
as the girl who saved the lives of millions of uncomfortable women.

A Small White Lie

Destiny was not on their side,
but only one of them could see beyond
that shadow,
and because
they would not be sharing the road
together for much longer,
and because
one of them did not was to cause a far worse pain
to the other one,
one of them had to invent
a small white lie.

Passing Acquaintance

Imaginary friends
were the constant companion
of the little girl.
She gave them odd names
which must have provided
further meaning
to her particular invention
but she couldn’t remember
much else about them
when she grew up.

Plato's Perspicacity

Necessity is
The mother of invention--
At least so they say.

The Invention of a story

A fleeting glance
Of a picture
And I knew him
He was my villain
The man I would
Love to hate.
The man thats
Heart would be
Melted by her.

Music from a movie
The itch I can’t control
I have to write
I don’t know the story
I just know it’s there
Waiting brushing up
Against my fingers
Ready to explode
Into my computer
Bypassing even my
Brain.

HOW WE INVENTED US

Remember that first date
when we worried how
we appeared to each other,
that awkwardly magical
evening when we felt
our hearts shift course?
We weren’t sure who we were,
who we would be, as if
we had infinite choices.
Maybe we did.
Eighteen years later, we’ve built
a solid history, certain
we were meant to be that unit
we call us.
Odd moments of magic
still flicker in front of us at
breakfast, at bedtime, in the middle
of a weekday. We tuck them into
our lives, celebrate how our hearts leap
for just a second in recognition
of the ordinary miracle of love.

Time to rhyme on the lines of my new line
(while painting in the lines of a hopscotch)?
A form born November, 2009:
four strophes (ten squares outlined in butterscotch),
a rhymed couplet wraps up three sets of five.

(I spot the numbered grid with red blotches.)
Syllabification is uniform.
(Paint daubs my clothing like bedpost notches.)
Starting with a question defines my form.
Look to see how my off-rhymes intertwine

with an echo, interwoven. (No harm
in giving it another coat in blonde
since will need to weather many storms
of rain and kids’ feet falling on and on…)
I’m not really looking for answers much,

but each strophe could take the subject beyond
where it’s been. For now, I call them “querons.”


DA

Peaceful Invention

When we are tired,
Let's get wired,
And find a new focal point.

Where is there unrest?
To put to the test,
Balancing out this joint.

Perhaps it is not a gaget,
Or anything to plug in,
Maybe it takes some magic,
For peace to actually begin.

Could be it starts with us,
If we get real still.
Release where there is imbalance,
Might let go of what's ill.

If peace is truly,
A state of mind,
An inner invention,
We can quietly find.

We can become the change,
We wish for the world,
By accepting who we are,
Watching love unfurled.

How to invent that?
Well . . . it's been done,
When Mother Teresa,
Became a nun!

Bartholomew Foggerty's Unusual Hobby


Bartholomew Foggerty, the brilliant weasel
Who once painted portraits in ketchup and diesel
Noted once in his memoirs
That when not painting he would spend hours
In complete and utter admiration
Of his very strange collection
He praised in words of elegant prose
(For he’s quite the poet, as anyone knows)
This most fabulous invention
That drove him fully to distraction
He’d scour the land and overseas
Just his obsession for to please
He had travelled to the frozen north
And had even ventured forth
To the sacred Emerald Isle
And there he spent quite a while
Scouring junkshops and bazaars
And chatting to people in the bars
Of Dublin’s fine and fair city
Where he got to the nitty gritty
And came across several examples
To add to his collection of fine samples
He kept them all on display
For they could not be locked away
Folks that came to his garret
Would all repeat like a manic parrot
My! What a splendid display
And then Bart would make them pay
For a tour of all the best
And throw in gratis all the rest
For whilst as an artist he made his name
This collection too had its fame
And collectors would come from miles away
Just to spend a leisurely day
Perusing and choosing which they liked most
And which made Bart like to boast
That his collection was second to none
Considering how large it had become
Although years before it had started
As a jape quite light-hearted
Now what you ask could it be
That makes the weasel so happy
Well simply put they are snuff boxes
But not the sort adorned with foxes
For these are exquisite fat snail shells
Finished in sliver and painted as well
With cunning Celtic designs
So delicate their beauty over time
Seemed to grow rather than wane
All except for one which was quite plain
This is the one the weasel chooses
And filled with snuff daily uses
Which accounts for the grainy texture
That some of his paintings have for sure
For the relief that the eye pleases
Is due entirely to Bart’s sneezes


Iain.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Note: this actually is a re-write of the very first BF which came about by accident and was not written in rhyming couplets but did supply the character for the subsequent creations

I don't post very often, but I read every day - for me, reading other poets' work is like having so many other pairs of eyes, so many extra sets of fingers - reminds me we all share one heart. Thank you for your generosity and talent.

Patricia, your images of nature are sharp, as piercingly beautiful as if I'd seen/felt/been. Kindred eyes...

Invention

How about:
One Nation under God . . .
of the people, by the people, for the people?

Probably too much to ask.

You can't have one without the other.

He leaves a dreadful mess
which I am always clearing up
It's a part of him
that causes such contention.
But I married him and so
I must love him as he is
and accept his foibles without much dissension.

But that mother of his
she's such an inconvenience and pain -
she's intrusive and she causes so much tension.
But I married her son so
I'm stuck with his mum -
Necessity - the mother of Invention.

Invention © Rich Atwater Nov 21, 2009

If “necessity” was the mother of invention--
Who was his (or her) father?
Or was he (or she) an illegitimate offspring?

If invention was conceived with no contention--
Then why does perspiration gather?
When the inventor begins to work on “his (or her) thing”?

Everyone knows that Edison means electric light,
That Alexander Graham Bell refers to phone,
The airplane flew by Orville & Wilbur Wright,
And the famous dog biscuit is known as Milkbone!

Do you know who invented “Howdy Doody”?
Can your surmise where “Superman” came from?
Or who sang that oldies ‘50’s song “Rooty-tooty”?
And who invented the wonderful Bongo drum?

If YOU were to rack your brain for something new,
What would YOU invent to further cause of all mankind?
A “utilitarian horn” to slide into your Sunday dress shoe,
Or something to help the world move forward, relax, or just unwind!

So be careful what you think must be invented just for us,
You could invent atomic bombs to blow the world apart,
Or discover some strange medical concoction to diffuse the puss,
I think I’ll go and find someone to love, invent “a loving-heart”!
=======+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++========
Temptation sets in, even as we try to invent POETRY, thus the last line that came to me at first was:
(“I think I’ll go out on the porch to my rocking chair and blow a fart!”)
How terribly uncouth, I would never say that in my poetry. But I included it because it made me think of Geoffrey Chaucer with his writings of The Canterbury Tales.
He was Archbishop of the Church of England, and his famous book is full of such “literary temptations” that amazes one of his “word-inventions” for a man of “the cloth”! Even the pious and devout are tempted, and many succumb. What would YOU do? Obviously, go out and invent another poem! Prior to that I invented The Book of Mormon Board Game—(as a follow-on to my classes as a Professor of Religion at Brigham Young University---available FREE at www.3swanspublishers.com if you buy one of my books!
See: Ad on website!

All of man’s seasons
bring natural inventions,
peace the best of them.

PRINTING PRESS

[There was as much intellectual philosophy in my hammer
as in any of the enginery a-going in modern times.
- Elihu Burritt, “Why I Left the Anvil”]

A mindless business, industry at work: iron-fingered
automatons snatching bales of cotton, spinning
and weaving them to cloth; the mechanical reaper;
the screaming locomotive bearing your fellow
humans almost at the speed of thought; and behind
them, cars of cattle bound for the slaughter-house.

Where was the divinity of mind, of humanity, in all
this? At your forge, you could hammer out
mathematical equations or declensions in Greek;
conjugate a Latin verb, pound out the meter
of a verse; memorize the capitals of cities halfway
around the globe, the heavenly names of stars.

And then, you chanced upon a new invention – new
to you – the printing press. It captured words
on paper, the very footprints of thought in ink.
Those books you borrowed, and studied late
into the night – all from this machine. Without it,
words would disappear as soon as spoken.
Give up the anvil, take up your pen. This press
will strike your words like iron on the page,
sparks that won’t just flare and fade away.

Discovery

Caught in technological
whirlwind—cell phone,
laptop, flat screen,
microwave—I stumble
through life,

forgetting
each moment
offers opportunity
for invention
of myself,
each step
an experiment,
every heartbeat
a proof.

My next breath
could bring
eureka.

IMPROVISE

Of necessity
I invented
A cookie
Delicious and sweet
Lacking half of the much needed oatmeal
Corn Flakes were subbed in between

These crispy flakes came to the rescue
For the success of this new recipe,
All I can say is --
"phew'!


Cara--here's to Plato!

Hannah--those brass keys are shining in my mind. What a great metaphor for life!

Patricia PM27

Dreams are inventions of the mind/subconscious, so that is the basis of my poem for today...

~Don't Wake Me Up~

If this is a dream don't wake me up... your eyes are blue as the heavens above, your hair golden as the sun, your smile bright as a thousand stars, the love in your eyes shining through like the beams of the moon in the evening sky...

If this is a dream don't wake me up... your touch is like the softest breeze, your kisses sweet as a river of honey, your embrace warms me like a fire, your loving moves my soul...

If this is a dream don't wake me up... your laugh makes me smile, your love lights up my spirit, your strength gives me courage, your compassion keeps me strong...

If this is a dream don't wake me up... your thoughts are mine, our hearts beat as one, we connect as never before, our love goes on and on...

But it is a dream, and as I wake up I feel so all alone...
my tears slowly fall, my aching heart is empty, my arms long to hold you and I wish I could fall back asleep so we could be together again...

But it's all just a dream...
nothing but a dream...
how I wish it could come true.

---

FOUR WHEEL DRIVE

It’ll get you anywhere. The roughest
roads. No road at all, just rocks
and sidehill. Look at that view, and pity
the guys whose rigs lack torque.
Talk about getting away from it all.
Down below, a devil’s-garden of granite.
Up ahead, cliffs where eagles nest.

But now you’re stuck. A broken
axle. No bars on your cell-
phone. How many miles between you
and highway? Will anyone come
looking for you? Will they know where
to look? Talk about getting away
from it all. A long walk out.

I read
that Thomas Jefferson
invented macaroni
and cheese,
as well as
a macaroni machine

Its delicious
to picture Jefferson
in his wig
in the pantry,
just home from
dotting the last i
in the Declaration,
of Independence,

See him
in his
stockinged feet
rustling up
the makings
of comfort food
ingredients,
picturing how
a melt
of milk
and cheese
and macaroni
would hit the
proverbial
spot

Would shaking down
packets
of powdered cheese,
melting the butter
in the microwave
leave our inventor,
our leader
breathless,
wordless, even?

If it were up to
Kraft Foods,
he’d have been
chosen
as the Father
of our Country

Necessity


She invents reasons to stay.
Weaves perfectly logical explanations why
swallows tears
squashes fears beneath careful, fragile façade
manufactures happy endings that will never come to be
and fools herself into believing every word.
Whispers to the night that it will all be okay.

Until it isn’t.

And then
tools in hand
she takes a stand
and reinvents
herself.

Marie - Such a cute and silly story. loved it.
Kumari - Loved the integration between emotional states and real places.
J. Hugh MacDonald - I so agree. I really enjoyed that poem.
RJ - Query was a short, funny, delight of a poem.

GET YOUR POEM-WRITING MACHINE HERE

Just throw some words in the hopper,
flip the switch
and watch them fly out
onto the page.

Let me demonstrate.
Let’s throw in just a few words,
fall, work, rot,
home, hankerin’, bum,
and ho-hum.
Now let’s toss in a few sprinklings
of a’s, and’s, and the’s.
Now turn on the switch and let ‘er rip.

Well, well! Look what we got on the page.
“This fall’s a lot of work
around home.
I’d rather rot than rake leaves,
but husband says, ‘Get off your bum,
quit with the ho-hum, pick up a rake
and get to work.’”

What’s that you say?
What about “hankerin’?”
Well, eh, let’s just throw that one back
for another day.

Patricia(PM27), thank you for such a generous comment, I appreciate it so much. By the way I cook like your poem "improvise," on purpose, recipe...what recipe? Fun piece.:)

Sally, I'll pick up two...is it buy one get one half off? ;)

LM.T. Richardson, touching piece.

Kathleen, "ordinary miracle of love," love this line, great reminder that miracles exist.

Janet, "Maybe it takes some magic for peace to actually begin..." and "We can become the change we wish for the world," really the whole piece because it puts it in our hands it's our choice. Beautiful thoughtful writing.

Great writing ALL!

To the person who invented
the story, and the person who
first wrote that story down,
thank you. Your inventions
have not only transported
me through time and across
the globe, but they have
helped me see life through
the eyes of others. The book
has helped me grow and
learn, and become the
woman I am today, as
well as thoroughly
entertained me. I'm not
sure exactly who
invented the book, or
how many there were, but
I know I owe them (or him
or her) a great debt
of thanks.

Yes, Hanna. Special price today. Just ten payments of $19.95. Shipping and handling $57.95 (that includes tax). This is to the first 10 callers, you understand! =)

Patricia F. on "Invention" . . . exactly!

Good stuff guys, one and all!

“Kaleidoscope”


Radiance buried , a hollow tube
Bursts of Technicolor, forever

Moving artistically, drawing you
Rotate a fraction, rocketed, new

Elliptical systems, illumination
Brilliance, depth, much to retain

Simple architectural structure
Lose thoughts, images remain

Mirrored cone, chipped colored glass
Meditation centered, reflections lure

Magnified change, element of light
Your being, helplessly rearranged

Ninacarole
11/21/09

Wouldn't You Agree?

One thing I know for sure
is that the person who invented
pantyhose
must have been...
a man.

Tish, thank you for your kind and encouraging words.

Theresa - hahahahahahaha! So true!

Tim - thanks for the nice words.

Great writing, you guys.

In fact...

Plagiarism

Your ideas have such appeal,
they're something I’d like to steal.
‘Though you thought of them first
if I take them, at worst
I won’t reinvent the wheel.

=D

Inventor

I would create you from the
Rib of Israel Kamakawiwo’ole so your
Soul would sing with the
Breath of the
Islands
I’d fit you with a
Feather from Hinmuuttu-yalatlat’s
Head-dress for strength so
You would fully
Understand the weight of
Equality
I’d give you the
Vision of Galileo Galilei so you
Would always be looking for
Something
New
I’d give you the
Wisdom of
Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
So that you could recognize
Each of us for
Who we really
Are

I’d do so
Many things
If I were an
Inventor

I'm glad these are drafts and we have time to edit. This one needs some work, but here's the draft.

Switched at Birth

We didn’t need our microwaves
Until they came about.
Computers, cell phones, Blue Tooth, ‘Net…
Who knew they’d carry clout?
I think a certain saying got confused
When once compiled
Invention is the mother,
And necessity the child.

MOTHER AND SON

Nurturingly
Excelling;
Competently
Exceeding;
Surprisingly
Successful;
Impressively
Talented;
Yielding to none.

Instinctively
Notable;
Valuably
Expressive;
Naturally
Triumphant;
Ideally
Optimal;
Not for faint hearts.


W

POTTERY CLASS
(Athena)

I go to see her on a wet morning, wise old matron
shaping clay on the back porch and watching the rain.
Her eyes are all the colors of the yard,
grass green and cloud grey and water blue at once,
spearpoint eyes that know you better than you know yourself.
Her bare feet work the treadle, and she says, Come, sit down,
I've just started. Those fingers are caked with
the interstitial fluids of the earth
and she is shifting their flow, pressing and pulling with
butterfly delicacy as they revolve. Patterns show.
Whorls and lines. Womanly curves. She shows me
the motions of the wrist and the palm to work the clay
into hollow vessels, always two steps from losing her patience--
but she never gets there, sharp-edged mouth in a sisterly smile.
The workshop smells of olives and almonds and sea salt.
An owl shuffles its feet in downy sleep, perched in the corner.
I ask to see some of her work, for a kind of
divine inspiration: such things she has created!
There are mugs bathed in crackling lapis lazuli glaze,
slender reddish jars of aromatic oil, and sculptures of wet drapery
so fine that the magic is in the not-breaking,
the holding together. I leave the wheel to turning, consider the
dusty amphora painted with black figures, sealed with beeswax,
asking what are these, and she responds that they are very old:
after all, she's been doing this a very. Long. Time. I ask
what are they for, she says for holding the greatest,
most heroic of all dreams, but she is at the wheel, turned away,
so I cannot see her face to know if she means it.

Conception

If necessity gives birth
To ingenuity,
May the counterpoising conceiver
Whose coveted contraption
Can compensate for
Pervasive death-let love
Pleas call me matriarch.

Salvatore gets the #1 spot! Great lead-off, Salvatore.
Kumari de Silva: Very well written. Great job.
Meryl K. Evans, so glad you decided to join the fun! I hope to hear more from you.
RJ: I am beginning to think you and I are kindred spirit. I just love your work! Today, all, but especially “Mother of Invention” and “Small White Lie.”
Chev, Hannah, and Daniel Ari, Daniel Paicopulos, Taylor Graham, De Jackson, and Joseph Harker: Brilliant!
Karen Phillips and Janet: Excellence!
Patricia Frolander: Great work. I agree whole heartedly with both.
“My next breath could bring eureka” … love this line, Amanda.
LOL, Sally!!
Amen, Monica Martin.
Theresa: Yeppers!
Amen, Willy.

Thanks Tim, Hannah, and Trish. Your kind comments mean a great deal.

Calculator

Who would have thought that
my kids would not have to add in their head?
Who would think that I bring one up on the computer
instead of finding a pencil behind my ear?
Who would have thought that my brain doesn’t have to
work like that anymore: numbers, equations, percentages and square.
This allows me to spend time on more applicable work, Right?

Marie Elena - I heart you!

I too heart you! LOL!

Ellen Black that is a good poem and it is hillarious

Of all the great inventions

Of all the great inventions
They've made throughout the years
Can we stop to say how many
Didn't end in human tears

Each tool we wield has power
But doesn't have a heart
With all the best intentions
Most things have their start

So much human effort
Can we count the hours lost?
If you counted all the tear drops
Could you ever count the cost?

With all those great inventions
We have used to fuel are greed
We could make the world a better place
And meet our every need

Tim, that was worth the wait today. Good work.


(A double shadorma)

Will someone
Please invent something
To remove
From my son
That doggone little black cloud
That rains on his head.

And please try
To make it also
Work somehow
To rid us
Of these irritating codes.
I don't ask for much.

Life after Sixty

One has to invent
a new way to live
one cannot depend on past
to sustain future
one has to begin anew
with fresh dreams,
possibilities abound
if one looks.

Wow! That was fast! That post worked on the first try. Had I known it would be that easy, I would have asked a long time ago. LOL!

That one, too. This is getting weird. Does this mean the little black cloud has been lifted from my son, too? :)

Third one in a row that posted on first try. Who should I thank?

Since three out of three codes included a double W, I'm thinkin' it must be Walt Wojtanik, who seems to be missing in action. Or Woodrow Wilson. Whichever.

I'm on my way kids. A wacked out day. But I'm all warmed up and ready to get started? Why knot?

Why knot, indeed, Woodrow Wojtanik?

Oh, and please hurry...I think I'm 'coding'......

How Green Is My Invention

How green would it be to invent
Star-Trek Transporters!
D
I
S
A
S
S
E
M
B
L
E
and
REASSEMBLE
our atoms where we order.
Tell me you want me
and I'll be standing
behind you--
no planes,
no trains,
no automobiles
pukin' fossil fuels,
no time involved in
getting me to you,
atoms dancing
and bumping
and set on cruise,
just not quite like
they usually do.
If all is an illusion
of atoms that keep
moving,
miles should not ever
separate me and you.

Sound of a Hollow Ring

Earlier today
I saw a mayfly,
a miniature hover craft,
drop down
just enough to touch his toes
onto the water,
and as he did ripples spread,
tiny circles
growing bigger.

If I could hold water,
I would have cupped my hands
to contain the circles
before they spread.

But water
is as fluid
as your slippery ways,
your shoes
stepping softly
trying not to echo
on our hardwood floors.

The night sneaks in
in waves of doubt,
and I without
the soft touch
you thirst.

Walking on water,
is a skill for God
and mayflies.

A Downturn

She went straight from her parent’s house
to the home they built as man and wife
at the young, naive age of twenty-one,
(and with no real experience in life),

finished college, went straight to work,
then had her first child of three;
the next twenty-five years were spent
working, nurturing, cleaning for free.

One day Ann literally had enough;
her children were out of control as was she.
Ann quickly changed, invented ways to cope
that might help her deal with the misery;

no more cleaning religiously every Saturday,
or meals cooked every night of the week,
clothes nicely ironed and laid out each morn;
this was silliness, she now turned her cheek.

Gone were the days of staying home with a book;
Ann now occupied her time with her friend,
as her loyal husband sat confused, alone,
and wondered if this nonsense would end.

Until the day she went away, never to return;
he knew then his life had taken a downturn.
The debacle of Ann’s life had come to a head
and the swirling eddy drowned their love: dead.

laurie k.

Poem generator

Take some nouns – concrete, abstract;
add verbs both transitive and not,
adjectives and adverbs. Stir in
some pronouns – let them be
personal. Click a button;
watch the pixels whirr
and print it out onto a page:

RISE ROUGHLY LIKE OLD SNOW.
ALL SOILS DESIRE OLD, DEAD ROBINS.
ROBINS GROW!
ROBINS ENDURE!
WHY DOES THE GARDEN DIE?

Try again:

APPLES FALL!
ALL HEARTS LOVE MISTY TWIGS.
HEARTS RISE LIKE SMALL SNOWS.
HOPE, HOPE, AND LOVE.
THE HEART FALLS LIKE AN OLD APPLE.

Sometimes I despair
that my home-grown poem recipes
fail to rise to the instant,
just-add-water words
of the poem generator.

Jenny Doughty
(Thanks are due to http://thinkzone.wlonk.com/PoemGen/PoemGen.htm - just for fun, change the words on its list to words of your choice).

Nice work, ladies! Patricia, amazing work.

Still breathing, RJ?! No pressure,Walt.

BEING FOR THE BENEFIT OF MR. KITE

Mr. Kite was circus folk,
Ring Master extraordinaire,
hosting shows from Timbuktu
to Pablo Fanchez-Faire.

He loved to wear the knickers,
with boots up to his knees,
his red tuxedo tails were sharp,
and top hat fit to please.

The center ring was where he played
amidst the acrobats,
the flying Hendersons, the stars,
with their Bengal Tiger cats.

Though, Mr. Kite was in the zone,
when the steam calliope played,
he grew up on that music,
and the memories have stayed.

But, the circus made him hungry,
so he went up in the stands,
to get a hot frankfurter
for the hot dog vendor man.

To his dismay, the dogs this day
were really rather raw,
the hot dog cooker wouldn't work,
Kite stroked his stoic jaw.

He grabbed the rope of wieners,
despite the vendors gripes,
and ran to the calliope
to stuff them in the pipes.

Kite played a lively ditty,
while all the crowd was looking,
and half way through the second verse,
the hot dogs started cooking.

The three ring circus tent broke out
in cheers for Mr. Kite,
They were amazed by what they saw,
this grand historic night.

So Mr. Kite decided
to leave the circus you see,
to manufacture his new find
the Kite Wiener Kalliope.

Circuses the whole world round,
would come without pretension,
to Mr. Kite's first factory
to buy his new invention.

At times he missed the circus,
but was proud of his good luck,
the first year Kite's Kalliope
grossed thirteen million bucks.

I bow to your speed and quality. My goodness...

My Waltness bows to your Goodness.

LOL! Say goodnight, Walt.

Thank you, Marie.

I had a difficult time with this prompt. Deleted a few that ending up feeling forced. I had to keep the invention prompt to just a small nod this time, but I am happy with the end result. Yesterday's fireman's wet shirt wasn't much of a water theme! Ha!

It is always nice to have your support and comments.

The Art of Invention

Invention is an art form
that some find uncomfortable
to use.
There are those for whom
invention is a way of life.
By inventing tall tales
and reinventing themselves
at dawn each day, they can
become different people
yet still look
exactly
the same.

If Only I Could Read Their Minds

“Hello” I would say to my dog
and I would be able to read
his mind and he would think,
“Hello, I’m so happy you are home,
let me out, I have to pee and
then can I have a bone?”

“Hello” I would say to my cat
and she would think, “Oh, you are
home again, watch how I control
my pet human, I will rub against her
legs and meow a few times and then
move toward the kitchen…I look back….
yes, she is following me with that
stupid grin on her face, and now
she will feed me.”

“Hello” I would say to the bird
and she would think, “Hello,
eat seed, hello, eat seed,
I’m scared”… and fly away.

“Hello” I would say to the spider
and it would think, “If only I was
bigger, I would catch you my web
and suck you dry”…
All my fears have been realized…
I would say, “good-bye”.

ROCKY RACCOON

The brand new taste sensation
in the frozen treat display,
the flavors have been blended
the good old-fashioned way.
Chocolate cream and walnuts,
marshmallow to make you swoon,
and the super secret ingredient,
a vat of fresh raccoon.
It's big in backwoods parlors,
and fancy gourmet shops,
this dessert revelation,
get some your next stop.

EIGHT DAYS A WEEK

Time is the elusive thing,
we battle it each day,
there never seems to be enough,
for work, or sleep, or play.
You struggle hard to make things fit
but time just flies away,
So this is my new remedy
to quell time disarray,
add another calendar column
and extend the week by one more day.

Subplots

He needed
To be protected
It didn’t matter
That
He seemed happy
Thrilled, free
He needed
A good
Latina
Not another
Gringa
The story
Was easy enough
To create
If there’s
Suspicion
You just
Have to feed
It a few lies

Day 21 – An Invention

I wish that I could invent something novel
Turn a rat into prince and a mansion from hovel

I’d be chortling with glee as I pushed every button
I’d make happy dance moves making something from nothing

There’s no doubt about it; it would be sweet
For I would be God-like in all I create

I’d turn sadness to glee, turn happy to mad
I’d turn evil to good ones and goods ones to bad

I’d be master of all; I’d create till I’m blue
And I’d do it all with a button or two

A wiffle, a waft, a fiddley-dee
There’s nothing I couldn’t accomplish you see

For my invention, this grandiose plan
Would be the thing to rejuvenate man

I’d be happy to share it, we could use it you see
And wee bit of silly and it would be free

Something that everyone could operate
We’d be hopping and dancing to all we create

We’d get so confused too busy you see
To care about war and swine flu disease

We’d be having fun and chortling with glee
Yeah that’s a good image, can I have one please?

invention
needs
intention
(and: parts)

poets creation

on plain white paper
thoughts painting word imagery
with dabbles of ink

November 21st, 2009
(prompt-invention)
(c) Rose Marie Streeter

as lovers,
we invent,

and then

reinvent,
this space
between us.

last night,
cooled by
anger, the
space between
our backs and
our legs,turned

brittle,
never touching,
filled with
imagined
distances,

a negative.

Today, the
space is
caught fast
between our
tangled legs,
cherished, held
tight, by our
arms, over-
lapping.

reinvented,

a promise
that flutters
trapped

between

our skin.

Treasures Long Buried

After all these years
of glorious and
pungent life

my heart still nestles
itself deeper inside yours.

How do I invent
new ways to describe
what has taken root?

We don’t just
add days
to our collection,

we burrow inside
each other

finding treasures long buried
and you bring miracles
I would’ve overlooked
in my haste.

How can I give words
to what my heart
never could have imagined?

My words are
insufficient and worse,
they’ve already been said
a zillion times
almost all of them
better than this.

The only thing
I have
that no one else does

are my days
and I happily offer them
to you.

Continue walking
this path with me
as it is the only gift
that only I can offer

and it is the only gift
worthy of you.

The Journey: Day Twenty-One: invention poem


As a poet, I wish I could conjure lines like
“I can smell the moon”
or “Mom, I have a yawn stuck in my ear.”
The manner of such wordage gives a twist,
takes a known
and makes an unknown, or slants a different meaning
to ponder and fuss over.
My words seem rooted in solid ground,
with little surprise at the stems and leaves sprouting skyward.
I am told a story of a young girl annoyed
by the lethargic flight of flies in late fall
(“Oh these bugs are flying me crazy!”)
or I eavesdrop, hoping to glean a sentence or statement
to make a poem spirit-light, or heavy with symbolism:
“The off-light of an overcast morning.”
“So I’m going down the highway, smelling the Chinese noodles,
sipping a hot mocha . . .”
“Heaven’s rage is holding up the earth.”
“A blackbird crowning the tree like a Christmas angel.”
Bleached buffalo skull, solitary travelers,
raven eyes, earthen vessel, sister myth,
song of the sage runner, tools of rock, wood, bone,
trout bush, fish berry.
Word soup:
No substitutions allowed, stick to the menu.

My Inventions

The peanut butter
and chili sandwich,
hamster helicopters,
maple glue,
exploding television sets,
flying beer mugs, and
chocolate sandals.

These are among
my many inventions.

I would be happy
to make a sandwich
for your or take
your hamster
for a ride.

Invention before Intervention.

If I get this perfectly right
the bad thing won't happen.
There is a connection
in the cosmic order;
I sense it in my bones.

I must get the numbers right.
I must get the order right.
I must get it - get it right;
I sense it in my bones.

Strange how a fleeting thought
takes root and burrows
deep into my bones.

Couldn't get through all of them today, but here's a few I did:

Kim Marie Jakway - Very true, very deep
Ginger Galloway - A great truth, in a beautiful poem.
Hannah Gosselin - Deep, thought provoking, a poem I could meditate on.
Karen H. Phillips - The way you bridged your list was brilliant
RJ - Your on fire today. loved small white lie,imaginary friend.
Richard-Merlin - Nice piece. Funny thing, both closing lines work great
Amanda Fall - Eureka!
Taylor Grahm - Got a nice smile out of four wheel drive

“Self-tapping dance shoe”

Wide-eyed, bright-faced
Working in secret
In his garden shed
Emerging sporadically
To be fed
Not long now
Until the breakthrough
He’s inventing the first
Self-tapping dance shoe

What is that drives inventors
To work on such crack-pot ideas
That no-one will want even once
In a million years?

“Self-tapping dance shoe”

Wide-eyed, bright-faced
Working in secret
In his garden shed
Emerging sporadically
To be fed
Not long now
Until the breakthrough
He’s inventing the first
Self-tapping dance shoe

What is that drives inventors
To work on such crack-pot ideas
That no-one will want even once
In a million years?

"Our House"

Your fingers and mine
thin and clumsy
glued together
walls from matchsticks.
We laid a roof
of dried grass
and leaned back
to admire the
tiny creation.
your pinky brushed
my thumb and
the spark uncontrolled
jumped too brightly
too quickly and so
quickly it was gone.
We were children
when we built
our house.

Airport entertainment

It’s
a
long wait
between flights
at Changi airport
so they ride the travelators
pushing their trolleys
up and down
a strange
slow
race.

The Tower Of Babel

The people of Babel invented
A language to help them get by
And so by working together
Constructed a tower so high
The top the tower touched heaven
A gauntlet before God was thrown
They didn’t have need of the Maker
Together they’d succeed alone
“Together” for men meant destruction
A myriad of ways to cause harm
So with omnipotent power
God stretched out his mighty right arm
He mixed up the words they were using
And added some guttural clicks
Slang words and interesting accents
And other such linguistic tricks
They woke the next day to confusion
With Zulu and French and Chinese
The arrogant people of Babel
Were swiftly brought down to their knees
The failure to understand others
To comprehend what they might say
Was not just a problem in Babel
But something we deal with each day

man’s first invention
was the sidekick
the poets of beginning have it god
made chaos first and then began
creating all those sweet dichotomies.
a god of categories, neat and orderly,
made each and an other
all and nothing yes and no
day, night
land, sea
the green: the flesh
then the poets bring in point of view
and have the god create one lonely man
we women, it would seem, derive from dream
like the plow and rib-shaped bow
cobbled together
from parts
when need arose
the poets knowing
falling action needs
a fall guy

REVOLUTION 9
(The Thing-me-wats-it)

Behold the thing-me-wats-it,
the modern mini marvel.
Made of a space-age polymer,
about the size of your navel.
It clears your head congestion,
it monitors your weight,
it gives off light when power goes,
this thing-me's really great.
They are in mass production,
the assembly line is quaint,
it looks just like an aspirin,
but, be assured, it ain't.
A half a million are in use,
a million more projected,
airport security bans their use,
(but they've never been detected).
They're coated with a resin,
so it doesn't need a case,
but use the wats-it with caution,
don't put in near your face.
This is the ninth rendition,
their condition is just fine,
you can tell them by their label,
They're all marked Number 9, Number 9, Number 9....

Go Green with Binoculars

We’ve become obsessed with ducks
and hunt them every weekend with
old binoculars, allowing us to see wing,
beak, and feather far across the lake,
in dry reeds, under branch and tangled bush.
We can tell some apart: the wood duck
from the hooded merganser,
the green teal from the male mallard.
The female bufflehead is almost lost
in the ripples of the autumn lake,
but through giant lenses hung round our necks
with fraying leather, we see the white patch
and small gray beak. Through glass magnified,
we see almost everything—a dragonfly caught,
a chase ensued, wild love—but touch nothing,
letting go when we turn away, awed and bereft.

THE GREAT INVENTION

I have an invention
to get the attention
of people all over the land.
It breaks all conventions
in all three dimensions.
You really must have it on hand.

I know that you’ll buy it,
so that you can try it
and see just how great it can be.
You just can’t deny it
if you take time to eye it,
you will not believe what you see.

I’m not going to tell you
if it’s red, green or blue
It’s beautiful, that is for sure.
Its coming debut
is way overdue
you’re just going to have to endure.

You don’t have to know
if its big or will grow
You know that you want it, okay?
Call in and get it.
You won’t regret it.
Order it! Do it today!

Thanks, RJ and Marie Elena -- You and I know whereof we speak.

Marie Elena, Tim Snodgrass, thanks for the kind mentions. Wishing you "eureka" in your poetry today!

The Heroine

Each night
she sits at her desk,
calendar open,
filling each day
with a new way
to mend her
broken heart.

The Chinese invented the abacus
That eventually led to adding machines.
Someone in Babylon invented the screw
Which Archimedes improved and used to drain ships bilges.
Hippocrates brewed willow bark tea
That led Hoffman to create aspirin tablets.
Galvani twitched a dead frog’s leg
But Volta invented the battery.
Talbot invented the camera
However Eastman created the film.
Tyndall discovered a flow of water channeled sunlight
Nevertheless Kao and Hockham perfected fiber optics.
Perkins described refrigeration but neglected to publish it
So others reaped the benefit 100 years later.
China used black powder as a medicine
Conversely, Europe exploded it into using cannons.
Lenoir produced the first internal combustion engine
Others improved and redesigned to create the one’s today.
Einstein laid the foundation for lasers
Yet Maiman built the first working model.
Joseph Swan developed a light bulb before Edison,
But they joined forces and shared credit for the invention.
Egyptians created the first lock and key
Though today Yale gets all of the credit.
Dummer proposed using a block of silicon for pieces of electronic systems
Later Kilby built the world’s first microchip from that silicon.
Janssen invented the first microscope
Yet Hooke published Micrographia and received the acclaim.
Hertz saw no use for his electromagnetic waves
But Popov and Marconi saw the potential for radio communication.
People may say necessity is the mother of invention
But he who recognizes usage and improves on invention most benefits.

He Needed a Good Editor (A Found Poem)

When it came to book titles,
I wonder who invented
this one in 1838:


A Philosophical and Statistical History
of the Inventions and Customes
of Ancient and Modern Nations
in the Manufacture and Use
of Intoxicating Liquors;
with the Present Practice of Distillation
in All Its Varieties; Together with
an Extensive Illustration
of the Consumption and Effects of Opium
and Other Stimulants Used in the East
as Substitutes for Wine and Spirits
By Samuel Morewood, Esq.

Fear

a movie in my mind
playing out tomorrow scenes that i dont like.
does this all end or just begin? i cant be sure but i fear
an invention of my mind where i am the creator
and yet it feels like someone or something else is in charge

Who decides how it all plays out.? Karma or fate.
just another silly belief invented to justify and explain what we dont comprehend
This fear.

(Written by my elevn year old fictional character.)



Who Invented Clowns?

Who invented clowns?
Who wore the first red nose?
Who tried on the first baggy pants?
And performed first clownish pose?

Who was the first court jester?
Who thought a white face funny?
Who thought it a good idea
to be a clown for his money?

Who did the first clown routine
in front of an admiring crowd?
What clown made the first kid
giggle and laugh out loud?

What clown first sang happy birthday
and acted like a buffoon?
Who was the first to drive his car
filled with helium balloons?

Clowns have been around
not quite as long as the sun.
I happen to be a clown
and I find it quite fun.

Who Invented Love

I’d like to shoot the guy who invented Love
What in the world was he thinking of
Love is the root of all misery
the means to destroy all that was ever meant to be

Sure, couples start out happy
while the man is lovelorn and acting sappy
let him just try to speak
then you will see the man turn meek

For most marriages, it takes no more then a week
if only the groom could seen into the future and take a peek
just to be able to see seven days ahead
but, once he say’s I do, he’s dead

Then don’t get me started on the family
Oh man, if only he could see
The man goes from the man of the house
to that gofer called a spouse

Take out the garbage, then take Suzie to the game
little Pete, has Karate, and Oh, don’t forget what’s his name
Then when you get home
Don’t plan to sit and watch TV alone

There are chores to do
No garage tinker time for you
Oh, if the man only knew
He’d say, I don’t, instead of I do. . .

©Ralph J. Fitcher, November 22, 2009, comedy invention poem.

Eureka
(it hits her like a Tanka)

She gets weary of
reinventing the damn wheel,
so here at drawing
board, she leans forward, looks back
sees she’s had wings all along.

Poem

Thoughts swirled around the edges
of my mind.
The silky threads slipping
through my fingers.
Until finally I am able to grasp
A few strands.

Just enough to create this small tapestry.

Necessity

She didn't always understand her children
some spontaneous, some slow and measured
but she was filled with pride for their creativity

The Invention of the Eye


I.

It was dark for so long
one year in the sea that was everything, everywhere
that maybe was like the sky
(no - there was not yet a sky) or like the space outside
of whatever was outside if there was an outside

a year in the sea
times a million, times a million, times and times

It wasn't even dark
There was no darkness to see
no sea to see though we were there
Blind, soft-bodied
dividing to reproduce
the blind, soft-bodied
not even invisible
nor visible
as there was no such thing as either

and it happened
it had never been before
an eye grew
it opened
and an eye - the first - saw
first to blink
first to see the sea
first to make the world visible

one supposes color,
water, the dumb, blind soft-bodied
creatures swallowed and swallowed
and so we died over and over
becoming part of a creature
a creature with an eye

or
we learned to hide
to look like exactly sand or look exactly like rock
now that sand and rock looked like they did
we learned to agress
see me, see this
i see you too
i am electric
i am blue, now that there is blue
and the tips of my undulating sides are brilliant orange
and spike with poisonous yellow
now that there is orange
now that there is brilliance
and yellow
there must be poison
and seduction
both

i move through the water with filagreed parts
with whirring motors
translucent spines and dicing scales
shells hardening

i will breathe
I will go to the edge and find at the edge
another space to move through - differently
new world
i will move two eyes across its form
find form, find more

i will change before your very eyes.
i'll grow fingers and, someday, touch your face
that i see
and see is so beautiful


II.

and now then what if insight
gains sight
the blind, soft-bodied fears
the gentle, self-dividing loves
the strange formless ways of intuition

we might grow a sense to sense it
the medium we have always been swimming in.
you know what i mean.
we just passed each other in our minds, in it.
Soon we will know where we have been
all this time
all this long, long time of trying.

November Poetry Challenge day 21 INVENTION

Mother of invention

Not enough credit goes to her,
The mother of invention, the one
Who makes it possible and necessary.
She might be garbage (disposal) or some
Dirty laundry (washing machine), soft
White bread (toaster), or curtain-sized
Gingham swaths (sewing machine).
Even leaves have engendered tenders
(rakes) but I wish we could have left
It at that: rakes seem to have spawn
Leaf blowers and they are an invention
I could have lived without.

Marry Me

He lay back on the bed
as she folded his clothes
and put them away

"You've made this place
more a house than I've ever known"
She smiled and leaned to kiss him
and said
"I want you to feel like this is home"

He pulle her to him and hugged her tight.
"The only way it would be home is if you stay"

STEEL PENS

[The schoolmasters of two hemispheres owe Gillott a debt of gratitude. - Elihu Burritt, Walks in the Black Country]

Remember your year in Glastonbury, Connecticut,
trying to teach youngsters what you’d taught yourself
in spare moments. So much precious time
you spent on the goose-quills – slitting and pointing
with your “pen-knife.” It tried your patience.
There weren’t enough quills in the world for pupils
sharp to write their thoughts in visible words.

Now here you are in Birmingham, England,
where Gillott’s Steel Pens turns out fourteen million
in a week – the “small arms of literature, business,
and social intercourse.” How many more pens
will be needed, when every village decrees
that every child shall learn to write! An arsenal
of fine nibs to conquer a world of ignorance.

THE INVENTION OF JOY

Sometimes we have to invent
what isn’t there.
But sometimes joy is already there,
just waiting to be discovered.

I wish I could see things
as they truly are.

But I do know even
when my body is sorrow,
seeing your face
fills my heart with joy.

Jane Beal
sanctuarypoet.net

Did you decide it yourself
That you would be proud and strong, march along
To a beat that’s all your own?

Did you invent that smile
That hides a steel behind your eyes
As you rush toward the prize?

Did you create this life
From someone who was small and weak
Who slept against my cheek?

I think you invented yourself.
I try to remember the child and you tender
A smile that belongs to the man.

Solomon’s Seal

Short often contains fortune,
Tall can hold a scarcity.
I care for bushy and full
I look after thin and leggy.

Start somewhere in the center
Watch the first stem as it grows.
I could shape center and end
And find the frame there within.

Ah blossoms, tear drop and white.
The spring brings these footprints
Which seem mere furrows to grasp.
Oh, far too much to describe!

November 8, 2009

Kaukauna

They cannot decide
whether parts of this name
mean porcupine
or pike.
Both animals spiked this area,
one in water,
one on land,
long before the paper factories came.

On the way up to Green Bay as a child,
father would warn
“Close your noses children, hold your breath”
as if passing a cemetery.
Perhaps it is a grave for the pike,
for the porcupine -
as the paper pulp plugs the spine
of the river
too full of waste for any life to survive.

Invention’s Necessity



Click flick tick
Flip tap toss flick spin
Opt want crave pick
Need?
Zap.
Push Press Squeeze
Zilch.
This newfangled remote control
Refuses to work
For three hours
If you press
More than a hundred
Buttons a minute.
Never mind –
I kept my old one
Which is not
A Prima Donna.

Budd Bay

She leans over the landing and drops
pebbles into Budd Bay, the smooth
rocks work their way down her fingers and
out of her hands into the murky water.

The afternoon sun tints everything
an unnatural buff color, like
polaroids from the 1970s.

Her hair slips between the slats of
the boardwalk. Tucked behind a
pierced ear. Strands brush her
forearm. Protein filaments.

She drops another pebble. Plop. The
surface of the water explodes.

On a bench further down the
wharf an old man clips shades onto
his eye glasses. A woman with
curly hair sits down next to him and puts a
blanket across his knees. She shouts at
him to straighten his collar.

Surface tension. Ripples. Water lit by
late summer sunlight. Quickly it goes.
It cannot hold its shape.

:recast, reinvented:

i decide to let myself turn
inside out. when i am little
the doctors put on heavy plaster,
then black bulky braces, to make
my feet, turned in, slide out.
they tell my parents, we do this

so when she grows up she can walk.
this is for her good. they do not
tell my parents, we do this so
when she grows up she will wonder
when what comes naturally turns
into wrong. let me now turn back in.

recast my toes in my own design, turn
them back into myself. so that i can walk
on my own two feet. this is for my good.
let me tuck my feet back in, up into
my former shell. this is how i
reinvent the wheel.

This prompt reminded me of the book The Invention of the Kaleidoscope by Paisley Rekdal ... The title poem is a beautiful, long-narrative poetic engagement of the invention of-- you guessed it-- the kaleidoscope. This poem, and the work as a whole, is definitely worth while! :)

Ooops! Not the poem I’d planned, but no time to edit for now. Don’t want to fall too far behind, and I’m off to do Thanksgiving shopping, so …


Ultrasound


I saw your picture today
A splotch on a gray screen,
moving, as I lay perfectly still

no longer a myth
manufactured by doctors,
you became real

Just my little secret,
too small for others’ eyes, you
remain a dilemma still, a
problem to be resolved, but

while seeing is believing,
it doesn’t make decisions
any easier

Day 21 Invention Poem

Sealed linen cloth,
a pyramid of wooden poles,
Da Vinci’s imagination,
renaissance device for
escape from burning buildings.

Fine-tuned, becomes
a modern debarkation vehicle
for jumpers, off to war
or eager for adrenaline rush
of downward flight,
from rooftops
down rock faces
and into caves.

Useful too for metaphor.

The parachute.


Carol A. Stephen
November 21, 2009
PAD Challenge poem

Clever Inventors

Inventors amaze me with their
clever creations. blenders, freezers
alarm clocks, robots, computers,
Blackberries, microwaves, paper
shredders, electric cars, and
scanners. What would our world
be like without these machines?
Probably a lot slower and quieter,
but we relish the speed , the noise,
enabling us to accelerate our lives
accomplish ever greater tasks,
surmount the limits of our imagination,
become mechanical beings ourselves.

Beam Me Up

As a kid, I marveled at Star Trek –
and its futuristic gadgets: warp drives,
phasers and replicators. I thought it was
so cool that they could communicate
with anyone, anywhere, instantaneously,
just by flipping up a little wallet-sized device.
The captain would flick his out and say
something like, “Kirk to Enterprise –
Scotty, beam us out of here.”

Now, of course, nearly all of us carry
those communicators, just as compact
and convenient. I’m using one in my car
right now. If only I had a transporter
and a buddy like Scotty
to beam me out of this traffic jam.

Glasses

I would be lost without them.
I sometimes need them to find them.
I could only read really big print.
I could not watch TV.
I could not see me in the mirror.
I could not go to the movies.
I could not watch the squirels in the yard.
I could not live the life I do without them.
One of the best inventions in the world.
I still can't drive a car, but that is better
for us all.

Story Time

Settling blankets, slouched pillows on the couch,
a quieted house prepares for lights out.

Outside, the dark sky bides its time listening
to night sounds until our story time begins…
my sweet, sleepy darlings under favorite blankets
warm in footed, fleece pink pajamas.

Each night’s story time was my day’s favorite part ~
your snuggling bodies left and right of my heart

knocked worries away. And just before bed
imaginary worlds whizzed through my head;
where frogs do speak, tree houses break free,
flying like possibilities above scarred trees

and a blanket-clutching flood. How high you’d ride
in the sturdy tree house, mother pilot at your side.

I own the copyright to these impromptu adventures ~
just as exciting as Milne, Mother Goose or Dr. Seuss ~
inventing truths to take root in the children’s realm
of molded minds, where no worries should dwell.

Levity

The crowd stood waiting with apprehension
The demonstration of the new invention:
An electromagnetic means of suspension
Making use of dynamic tension.

Her theory had met with some dissention
and even a bit of condescension,
But she had made it her intention
To fly without physical intervention.

Although beyond their comprehension,
And in the face of known convention,
They watched transfixed with rapt attention
As she rose in sure, if short, ascension.

The science journals all made mention
She received a grant extension
Her career went into declension
And she retired with a pension.

Poetry apparently
Should be elusive
Clever, shocking
Throw in an unacceptable
Word or two
To get the rhythm rocking
I don’t know, it’s all subjective
Memories and niceties
Are quite fine with me

When will they forget the mousetrap
and build a better body? Forget the
supplements and go straight for imitation

muscles, cable ligaments, steel tendons
and fiber optic nerves. When will they
build a body in which I can explore Mars?

A substitute body to lift me out of this
chair? Though, if those pointy head
scientists could built something like that,

maybe they could repair my old
body – attrophied muscles, frayed nerves,
broken parts all made better through

the miracle of science. I can't wait
until that day, but will have to until
science catches up to my imagination.

When will they forget the mousetrap
and build a better body? Forget the
supplements and go straight for imitation

muscles, cable ligaments, steel tendons
and fiber optic nerves. When will they
build a body in which I can explore Mars?

A substitute body to lift me out of this
chair? Though, if those pointy head
scientists could built something like that,

maybe they could repair my old
body – attrophied muscles, frayed nerves,
broken parts all made better through

the miracle of science. I can't wait
until that day, but will have to until
science catches up to my imagination.

WHoops, posted it twice!

Choices: Day 21: Inventions

One Simple Request

Would someone, please,
invent a new heart?
The one I’ve got now is pretty worn out.
A transplant just won’t do.
No, I’m looking for a brand-new model.

No more handwash/dryclean.
Make this a wash-and-wear one,
able to stand up to heavy use and still
tumbledry, be as good as new.
I’d like it pliable yet firm: resilient.
Shatterproof, yet morning dew soft.

I need only one.

Meanwhile, I’ll get out the double-stick
tape, the miracle glue, and see if I can
patch the old one, again.
Maybe she’ll hold together for
a few more miles.

Nice, Maureen Blake! Just caught yours by chance. Love it. And oh, boy, can I relate.

INVENTION

I searched through the catalog
for just the right components
for my project…
precise colors,
exact sizes.

I knew how long
the task would take,
considering the development
of the endeavor.

Mapping out the blueprint,
I began my mission,
but I didn’t plan
for the roadblocks that lay ahead.

I developed headaches,
nausea,
and pain,
but I knew the outcome
would be worth it all.

In less than a year,
my process was complete…
and finally,
after all my preparations
and hard labor,
you,
my precious child,
were laid in my arms
just moments after your birth.

140 CHARACTERS

Cyberspace was
all aglitter
when @biz, @ev and @jack
invented Twitter.

Inventing the lines she
Should have
Spoken but
Instead chose to be
Silent.

Writing the words she
Still kept quiet,

The crazy inventor
Alone creating
What should have
Been shouted out
To the world

Because turns out,
She was right
All along.

Invention



Someone has idea

The clothes peg for example

World is better off.


Raymond Alberts

Invention

I’d like to invent a song
that moves people
something never heard
before, something
important.

I’d love to invent a poem
Write and rewrite to perfection
until it was ready to send off
and be welcomed into open arms

I’ve dreamed of inventing
a painting exquisite. One
that talks to the viewer
and allows them to reach
to grow and love even more
It will tell them something
we all want to know.

I want to invent a way
of reaching people where it matters
of changing one thing that will
make them happier. That would
make the world glow a little brighter.

Judy Roney
November 21, 2009

The Town of Invention

Half-grown patents stand furled
in flowerpots along Edison Street.
People tell time by clocks strung
on every corner, set to the hourly clang
of the grandfather clock in Bell Square.
It’s always noon here, a solar-powered
orb hanging permanently overhead.
The scent of tangerine mists through
once an hour. Necessity, the mayor
of Invention, nails up monthly decrees
outlining the next area of research.
Food is grown hydroponically, its water
made daily at the water factory,
and buildings are made from recycled
sewage. Adults pop an Einstein pill
before sleep, to help mine dreams
for theories. The town letch wanders,
mumbling something about cloning
sheep with two vaginas, but the cloners
are way ahead of him with their double-
cocked horses. The women line up
to test them, hanging under their bellies
in baskets strapped to their twitching
haunches, returning home to make dinner
for their families, cheeks flushed,
mane-like hair smelling of clover and hay.

The Patron Saint of Laundry

If sainthood was conferred on those
Who in their ordinary course of days
Managed to make the lives of countless
Millions so much easier – If there were
Prayers, jubilations, holy days in their
Honor and their name forever blessed

Then let me be the first to honor the
Unknown scientists who in their daily
Deliberations managed to produce an
Item so commonplace that life without
It is unimaginable, those inventors who
Gave us the product known as perma-press.

From all those wives, mothers, servants,
Men-in-a-hurry who, unpacking their
Suitcases found a wrinkled mess – from
All those who toiled over a steaming iron
Whose slightest miss-touch could cause a
Blistering burn, for all those hours spent
Sprinkling water on puffy sleeves, tucks,
Ribbons, gathers – even the monotony of
Sheets, pillowcases, hand towels. Those

Hours returned, that gift of time that no
One can put a value on, how else can we
Express our thanks, gratitude, appreciation.
How can we honor those nameless men and
Women who did so much for so many, what
Can be the proper way to thank them,, those
Blessed ones whose names we will never know.

Trying to Build Happy

To try to be happy is to try to build a machine with no other specification than that it shall run noiselessly.--Robert Oppenheimer

I wasn't one of those girls who
wrote their boyfriend's name
combined with hers in curly cursive
letters on the back of some notebook
or the steam on the mirror
I never dreamed of white dresses
or roses mixed with lilies of the valley
I wasn't one of those girls
and yet I invented a life for us
an apartment with a little furniture
a futon and a coffee table
dishes my mom had bought before
she became a bride
I even invented a baby that I swear
I hadn't been thinking of
and so invented you--a father
and motherhood took me over
like the sweetest parasite
I invented happy the best.
You invented things too
bustiers with breast inside
bikinis and strings of beads
women with you inside
and a privacy curtain like
a walk in freezer
you invented a stand in too
and I liked him
he made me happy.
Can you invent me something now
an eraser for all the things I know
A camera that goes back a shows
me what I ought to have known
or a bed with only me in it,
a quilt made of only you?

Day 21 (dedicated to my husband)

The memory machine

Never worry about being forgetful again
With the new memory machine!
This little device is implanted in your brain at birth
It can record and recall every experience you’ve ever had
All your happiest memories could be experienced over and over again
Do you have some painful memories you’d like to forget
The memory machine has a convenient delete feature
Just be carful of the experiences you chose to forget
Can’t decide?
Just download the bad memories to our sever for easy retrieval
Do you need to remember the exact details of an event for court or while writing your memoirs?
Well now you can.
You can have the memory machine
For the low, low price of $19.95
Per month,
For life.
After its instillation you can delete the memory of why you are paying us
this outrageous amount of money
This is a gift that keeps on giving (to us)
Your children and grandchildren are sure to enjoy it
Again, and again, and again, and again, and again.

21 INVENTION

Woke up before the rest
Stepped out into the first light of dawn
Gathered wood to put over the stones
And the burnt wood from last night’s fire
Noticed a black mark when the new wood
Rubbed against the old burnt wood

Pushed the wood together
More black marks
“Hmmm”, he scratched his thick-haired head
as he carried the charred piece back
to his clan just waking in the cave
mystified by the first thoughts
ever born of a brain and let out into the world
Brilliant father of my tribe

When I Grow Up

When I grow up I want to be
A world class gymnast, on TV
Maybe a doctor just for kids
Or something tawdry Mom forbids.

Here's my goal when I'm done with school
To don a suit, the world to rule
Climb the ladder and ride the wave
Power, control and fame I crave.

Just for now, I'll raise my children,
Laughing, playing, fun times again.
The world can wait, I'm busy now
Be there for them, my solemn vow.

No longer kids, but young adults
My time investment brought results
Back to myself, my life content,
but goals it's time to reinvent.

Discovery, The Mother of All.

A discovery, un-covering, revealing something there
already: okay, but what exactly is invention?
Did Albert Einstein invent relativity,
or did he banish absolutism?
Maybe he invented the thought that all was grey.

And if necessity is the mother of,
shouldn't we have a father?
No, this was an artificial insemination;
nothing needs to be invented, zero.
Everything is, awaiting intervention,
that is absolutely certain.

Finishing of an Invention

David must have been very angry that year,
month, or day
when he snapped
out of the blue
on Christmas,
“There is no Santa Claus, Brenda!
Wise up to it now,
there is nothing sillier
than a jolly red elf delivering gifts!”
A child of six,
I wondered, why tell me this now?
I may have had a smidgen of doubt.
Not knowing what to say,
except, “I’m going to ask Mum
if that’s true,”
then began to cry.
Not tears for a lost Santa,
but the loss of you.
A hurt you carried,
and, I, then carried for you—

Invention

The Poetry Machine

A test is in progress and I'm dawdling
making my way through scattered debris.
People whisper to me, touch my hands.
The machine poses questions.
I only have the answers to some, forget
them as soon as they are spoken.
My dance teacher is here, older but slim and beautiful
as ever. As ever, though her eyes are flat
black circles. "We'll call you when
the scores are in." She pirouettes away.
I smile at the mirror intently.
The device choogs and spits sheets of paper
onto the floor. The balled up trash
is up to my knees. After an intermission,
the contraption heaves and starts again. I can’t
maintain the pace. The audience stares. I look
for anyone I know. A loudspeaker announces results.
The equipment is very hot, judges play with the cables.
A man in a tuxedo asks how I did. To answer
I draw a spiraling snake and fill it with words.
Mechanics haul wires off the table, fasten
them with pins and unwound paper clips.
“Don’t burn your hands on the machine,” I tell myself.
Even the table it stands on is hot.

Five Inventions and Five Inventors
By: Meena Rose

Being the wife of an inventor,
I took the opportunity
To quiz dear Hubby
About inventions of note.

It turns out that these
Five ideas were discovered
Quite on accident:
… The microwave oven
… Krazy glue
… Vulcanized rubber
… Safety glass
… Penicillin

It turns out that these
Five inventors
Acquired their big idea from others:
… Galileo Galilee’s telescope originally by Hans Lippershey.
… Sir Alexander Fleming’s penicillin originally by Ernest Duchesne
… Alexander Graham Bell’s telephone originally by Antonio Meucci
… Albert Enstein’s theory of relativity originally by Henri Poincaré
… Thomas Edison’s light bulb originally by Heinrich Goebel

An invention to the world

An invention to the world
Of knowledge
It’s not a fancy affair
So come just as you are
Come right in, look all you please
You might find a little romance
And always some history
Just show your members card
Don’t worry it’s free
No matter, your age, tastes or hometown
You are always welcome
At the Library

The Creation

If I could bring together Light and Love,
Joy and Peace, I would create a
magic wand that would cast far into space,
where it would dissipate into nothing,
the pain and suffering of those too weak
to hope for mystical change in their lives

New Mother

The day I became an inventor
and created something new
to change the world forever
was the day I created you.

You were perfect and pink,
my first baby girl.
I was the happiest new mother
in the entire world.

All day we spent waiting
full of excitement and fears.
When you finally arrived
my love poured out through my tears.

There is no way to know
What it’s like – a mother to be.
There is no way to describe
how much you changed me.

You gave my life purpose
You’ve given me a role
As mother and teacher
My heart you instantly stole.

I had no idea that day
What I could or couldn’t do
All I knew for certain
Is how much that I love you.

Music by Design

A cello is weeping
in my church today
Tears of sound plunk
discordantly
Hitting both ears and
floor with
A measured enervation
that grates

Oh, I beg of you
dear cellist
Bless us with what
I know
Resides inside your
wooden friend
Play us something just
a bit less mournful

Allow if you would be
so kind
Bach to retire now and
perhaps Mozart
Or even Pachelbel could
step up
And fill this space with
music, sweet music

The Invention of Writing

All those arguments:
who owed what for the cows,
who was promised to whom,
who was supposed to show up for the hunt
and didn’t, who did
and so was entitled to part of the kill.

Now we know, since it’s all right there,
who’s responsible, who’s to blame
when no one shows up and someone’s left
holding the worthless paper,
the computer printout, the black marks
showing who we’re entitled to kill.

An Unbreakable Heart

How wonderful it would be
for someone to invent a heart
that could never be broken,
one that would not come apart.

But then we would not know
the price of loving and losing,
the learning process of living,
a baby's cries and a poet's musings.

It was once said that a heart
would only be practical
when it was made unbreakable,
but then it would have to be retractable.

Our heartaches are what make us who we are,
the person we become deep inside.
We live and learn and make mistakes
and grow with each tear cried.

So maybe the invention would be welcome,
maybe it would be cast aside,
all in all it would be interesting
to see where the love abides.

Mother of Invention
by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

“I can’t go through with it!”
she cried, cutting me off as usual.
Suppressing a desire to leap into
the heavens hi-fiveing Angels
as deep down, I’d always had
serious doubts about the betrothed,
I raised an eyebrow, placed a steady
hand atop hers instead and said
in my best academy award nominee voice,
“Oh honey, it’s just nerves talking.”
(After all, I didn’t want to appear too eager).

In the volley of expressions returned
you might as well thought she was being
asked to marry Jack the Ripper himself!
“Haven’t you been listening?!”
my daughter screamed at me, but
22 years of primadonna antics had
pretty much sedated any reactions that
might have otherwise resulted from
such rude behavior, so I let it go.
Besides, I found it much more practical
to go to my happy place located somewhere
in the right hemisphere of my brain,
pick a few flowers, roll in the tall grass,
then fire up my riding lawnmower.
Who knew mowing could be so therapeutic?
I could visualize an garden wedding,
mowing the perfect path up to the altar,
mulching in the train of her dress,
her expensive bridal bouquet,
the rest of the wedding party...
the chance to work my cannibalistic daughter
back into the earth along with a handful
of fish fertilizer...but I digress.

“Mother! Stop daydreaming and help me
find a way to call off this nightmare!”
Bridezilla’s voice interrupts like nails over a chalkboard.
“Yes, can’t wait to hear what you come up with,”
my coward-of-a-husband mocks from behind
a bank of newspapers in the other room.
I turn and eyeball his new lazy boy,
trying to visualize it under the blades of my John Deere.
Yes, my plan would have to be plausible but melodramatic!
And yes, it might require a few bribes and some explosives.
But perhaps my daughter had indeed come to the right place,
this home to the Mother of all Inventions!


© 2009 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

Mother of My Invention

I have heard it said that desperation is the mother of invention.
I don’t think it was desperation that drove me to the novel.
I don’t think it was desperation that led me to the paper.
I don’t think it was desperation that said “It’s time.”
I don’t think it was desperation that dreamed it.
I think my mother was destiny,
And when she called to me,
I answered her
And wrote.

KISS

Fiery bliss
resides in
this
meeting
of lips,
tenderest
press
of flesh
So close
the gap
and gently
trap
my sigh