Comments Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas

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The word: Lock keeper

Channeling Thoughts

We reminisce of more tranquil times
When canals were king.
For transport of bulk coal and ore,
They were just the thing.
But they were not fast enough
To keep us all progressing
And lacked destination flexibility,
Their usefulness regressing.
Ever faster need for hauling things
Brought train and truck conveyance.
Pipelines and air travel
Put canals into abeyance.
Some we still find vital like
The Suez and Panama,
Ones that tranverse isthmuses,
Cut travel times for all.
For the most part we enjoy them.
The ones we find remain.
They are found more peaceful now,
A float down memory lane.
We picnic at locks and wiers
Sometimes we float a boat
A few still employ lock keepers
Left from an age remote.
In modern times, still, news is made
When some locks are broken
I’m suggesting that the Watergate
Is that of which I’ve spoken.
Once frenetic with activity,
Canals channeled our endeavors.
They’re now symbols of placidity.
Nothing is bound forever.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On July 19, 2018 @ 9:52 am

The word: Sun

PFS- Sunshine- April 2016
New and Improved for Sun- July 2018

Sunshine Sylph

Imprismed in a crystal for a spectrum of refractions,
The Sprite of Light love-labors to provide us with distractions.
It is She who captures Shine- Emanations from the Sun-
White light in the taking. Careful crafting has begun.
You take your basic beam and divide it into rays
Of the component colors which dazzle in displays.
Reds, Oranges, Yellows, Greens, Indigos, Violets, Blues
Are displayed upon her palette- all the rainbow’s hues.
Add all the shades found in between these colors named primary-
And their myriad amalgams are conjured by this faery.
Then come the enhancements- brilliance and lambent luminosity,
A pinch of glow, a hint of glint, and sparks- photic fireworks for all to see.
Her work in all its facets- deriving to diffractions-
Colors all our visual world with optacular attractions.
We find our lives illumed by her spectaculating essences
Bedazzling our perceptions with enchancing luminescences.
Would not our world be drab if it were only black and white?
Like some somber fifties’ movie- less enchantment and delight.
So, be grateful for the Light Sprite and that she takes the time
To color, shade, tint and dye and enhance our sight sublime.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On July 12, 2018 @ 5:26 am

Will write poems for food.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On July 11, 2018 @ 11:01 am

The word: Serendipitous

Originally from the prompt “It was my ignorance that saved me” from ESM’s 52 Workshops for Writers, No. 1
Submitted for PFS- Fortuitous- July 2015
This is a major revision.

Prompted to Pomposity

If I had known better that there’s no way it could be done,
Would I have tried to do it if only for the fun?
I met a prompt, it challenged me to striving and endeavor.
It told me I best learn never to say never.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Though it might take tenacity,
I should be a one who dares to mine my own audacity.
Is that not the rub? To work past my contention
That all artistic works are fraught with some pretention?
And if my effort fails? If my reach exceeds my grasp?
Can my esteem survive an appearance as an ass?
I suppose all works of art must be somewhat serendipitous,
Happy happenstances from something quite fortuitous.
Over time, I am learning- The shame is in not trying
And if I fail, so what? There’s little use in crying.
A triumphant victory tastes so very much the sweeter
When it’s snatched from the jaws of the doubter and defeater.
Something here has saved me- A life-lesson being taught-
That being ignorant of my limits is something not for naught.
If I had allowed myself to be constrained by my own fear
I think, dear reader, you would find there would be no poem here.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On July 5, 2018 @ 1:00 am

The word: Grateful

“It was self esteem that killed gratitude…”
Great lines!

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On June 28, 2018 @ 8:29 pm

I’ll be grateful for Elisabeth’s return and a new PFS word. Here I’ve done a major redo of a poem I wrote and submitted for PFS- Caisson from June 2013

Take the Plunge

I was feeling most unsettled.
My peace would not contrive.
A friend, more an acquaintance,
Advised I deep sea dive.
Might I find some answers
Deep within the ocean?
Is there an ancient power that cleanses?
Is that a crazy notion?
So, I’m going for diverse reasons
I think I’ll take the plunge-
Could be a kind of baptism.
I’ve got sins I could expunge.
I’ll wash me of my transgressions
And my pervasive ennui.
Maybe, I’ll reignite my zeal
In the essence of the sea.
You know, I’ve never done this.
Adventure’s not within my blood.
If I go beyond my depth-
Can I rise above the mud?
So, I’m off to the shore
For a total immersion.
Beneath the waves, I’ll frolic.
Perhaps, I’ll find conversion.
But it’s not a tankless job
To survive the oceanic.
Follow rules that we are told
And we will never have to panic.
One thing to beware:
We are told that we must learn.
Avoid nitrogen narcosis–
King Neptune’s known nocturne.
At last, I take the plunge.
I dive around the bends
To find the Rapture of the Deep
And, perhaps, a seachange of amends.
They say here’s where life began.
From out of this solution,
The Gods of our antiquity
Inspired evolution.
As I hear Poseidon’s peaceful call,
My immersion is euphoric,
Ancient mariners harmonize.
I imagine voices most historic-
“Those of us who fathom
Know there’s no futility
Yield yourself to the depths-
It’s where you’ll find tranquility”
Now, I feel so good
As I float here in my space.
I’ve no need to be moving on
Or get out of my place.
I like it here, I’ll stay awhile.
I’m enjoying this intuition–
Some may say that I’ve done wrong
But they would change position.
To you doubters, I suggest
You try what I’ve found fateful.
You, too, can find your bliss.
Forever I’ll be grateful.
If only you would plumb the depths,
You’d find what we have found-
Our apprehensions are in suspension.
We’ve the joy of those who drowned.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On June 27, 2018 @ 10:33 am

I still have to write something each week for our writers’ group, Bemused Literati, so here’s this-

Dragonflies

You know you should be grateful.
This is not another rave.
I’ve decided constant bluster
Is not the way I should behave.
I’m the one who should be grateful.
I should take my life with grace
And not get overwrought
At our world’s frenetic pace.
I’ll not be pointing out our shortcomings–
Our social world’s messings.
I need to take a few moments
And enjoy our peaceful blessings.
So, I’ll adjust my worldview,
If only for this song.
Be thinking what is right and
Foregoing what is wrong.
I went to see the wildflowers,
The feral flowers were uncaged.
Several moments of great beauty
Were not to be upstaged.
At a cool pool and fountain,
Upon a reed and lily pad,
I saw a red dragonfly.
My heart was more than glad.
Flying hither-thither then,
It took some time from flitting,
So, I could see him in in my wonder
While it rested at one sitting.
‘Lo and behold.’
I am loving saying that.
Then came a bluish dragonfly
And nearby she sat.
They entered in my reverie.
In that moment, I was musing.
Here’s to beauty in simplicity
And a life that’s less confusing.
It’s not exactly Hallmark
But it’s the best that I can do
Until Elisabeth returns
In about a week or two.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On June 23, 2018 @ 5:33 pm

“It grew faster than I expected.”- ESM’s 52 Workshops for Writers, No. 31- April 2015
Submitted as PFS-Action- June 2015
Revamped and Revised for PFS- Grateful- June 2018

Slugged and Mugged

Police Desk Sergeant:

Well then, Mr. Tortuga
I have your report in hand
And I would appreciate if
You would help me understand.
Tell me just what happened
In all of your own words.
I’ll try not to be judgmental
Though it seems a bit absurd.

Tommy Tortuga, the Turtle:

Yes sir, Officer. I am reporting an assault
And aggravated theft.
I swear it’s not my fault
That I’m beaten and bereft.
I’m employed as a courier
For Terrapin Express.
I was minding my own business,
While looking for a street address.
Then from out of nowhere ,
Appeared a vicious gang of thugs-
A real mean-looking crew-
A nasty horde of slugs.
These things block my path
They say, “Halt! We’ve got to talk!”
I say, “I’m making a delivery.
‘Scuze me! I’ve got to walk.”
The leader was a scary brute,
He said, “Don’t do nuttin’ funny.
You don’t want us to do you harm,
Give us all your stuff and money!”
There wasn’t much that I could do.
I tried to run away.
But they oozed into my path
Forcing me to stay.
You probably hear this all the time
That, when mean slugs attack,
One gets surrounded by their slime.
There is no going back.
My house is on my back, you know.
I tried to slip inside
But my attempt to get away
Was almost suicide.
To you it must seem odd
And unique to this occasion-
What was, at first, highway theft
Became a home invasion.
Of course, they stole my stuff.
I was beaten, slimed, contused.
You’re wondering how I did escape
‘Cause you seem like you’re confused.
My memory’s mostly foggy,
So my explanation just might fail
But it seems that I was rescued
By a passing Ninja Snail.
It was just my good fortune-
His arrival more than fateful.
That he could chase those bandits off,
Forever , I’ll be grateful.
I wish I could explain it better
But there was too much action
I hope my story will suffice.
Does it meet your satisfaction?
There it is. That’s all I’ve got
Though I know you’ve more to ask.
I wish I could remember better
But… it… happened… all… so… fast.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On June 19, 2018 @ 11:00 am

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle
From Elisabeth’s 52 Workshops for Writers No. 41-“Before our world changed, we knew…”
updated from January 2016

In a Way of Speaking

Before our world changed
We knew that… nothing stays the same.
It seems that change is constant.
Is there someone I can blame?
Won’t you bear with me?
My pet peeve needs some walking-
In a way of speaking
It’s all about our talking.
There is this modern mumbo-jumbo,
New words and iterations,
Which nourish my annoyance
And aggravate my irritations.
How shall I begin?
I guess it’s time to rant.
How about with common courtesy?
Inclined with the new can’t.
These days when I say “thank you,”
There is “no problem“ to be perceived.
I used to like “you’re welcome.”
It was nice to be received.
In this latest way of discourse,
Do you know what I disdain?
It’s like, y’know, everyone is, like, a valley girl
And we cannot, like y’know, refrain.
In hippier days, good things were
“Hey, man! That’s far out!”
It became “That is totally freakin’ awesome!”
Those, begrunged, found themselves about.
Now its a hip-hop world.
We’ve come to “Yo! That is phat!”
I might not care what it means.
In fact, I’m sure of that.
Each succeeding generation
Uses argot as its toy.
It’s a way for them to bond…
And also to annoy.
So, I’m a vulture of the cultures,
Circling the language- birthing/dying,
A buzzard of the buzz words,
I guess I find it trying.
Now that we are digital
I must become more callous-
When I read OMG, let’s LOL
I need my digitalis.
I hope that you forgive me.
I know I should be grateful
For any communication
That is, at least, not hateful.
I suppose I must accept
That I’m no longer really playing.
I bequest the words to younger folk-
“Later, Dudes!” Just sayin’…

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On June 15, 2018 @ 7:30 am

As far as I am concerned, the PFS word is “Grateful” until it’s not. I hope Elisabeth is enjoying her Thames River hike.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On June 10, 2018 @ 5:03 pm

I Pledge

Standing to attention.
Hand placed over heart.
Under God, indivisible.
The game’s about to start.
We are pledging our allegiance
To our country and our flag.
For some this is by rote.
For others questions nag.
Some want to call attention
To the way they feel.
There is something wrong here.
With respect, they kneel.
I might be offended
If they were mugging, talking
Or expressing signs of boredom.
These are no acts of mocking.
I can see their honor.
I add my voice to their defense.
Respectful opposition is
Done with no pretense.
Is this not what America
Is supposed to be about?
Freedom of expression
Is what makes us proud.
Next time I pledge fidelity
I might stand or take a knee
Solidarity with the brave
In a land that’s free.
I feel really grateful.
It’s a wakeup call.
So now, can’t we get on with this?
It’s time that we play ball.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On June 8, 2018 @ 11:04 am

Another Fine Rant

Please do not berate me
Because it seems that I’m not grateful.
Though I am less appreciative,
There’s no need to deem me hateful.
Too many folks these days
Demand one give one’s all.
Don’t be like Humpty-Dumpty,
Fence straddlers suffer fall.
If you’re in it for an ounce,
You’re in it for pound.
Full commitment is required
So is going the full round.
Actually, I’m for half measures.
Glasses are half-empty or are they filled half-full?
Are your efforts more half hearted
Or are they fully dutiful?
In politics these days,
Aren’t they filled with spite?
Deny the opposition any
Opportunity to do what might be right.
Gawd forbid cooperation
That’s what we’re not about.
We’re only for our side winning
And sowing seeds of doubt.
Let’s elect a President
Then see he or she is neutered.
Immediately, we demand
A special prosecuter.
It will be their mission
To pursue without restraint
Push the King off of the Mountain
And see they’re tarred with taint.
I guess where you stand on this
Depends on how you voted.
Is prosecution persecution?
The devoted should be demoted?
The situation’s all mucked up.
Personally, I’m disgusted.
I’m even thinking God
Is no longer one who’s trusted.
So, won’t you pass that glass
And see that it’s at least half full?
Maybe, after some strong spirits
I’ll be more inclined to grateful.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On June 5, 2018 @ 10:26 am

The word: Fishing

Thank you, Jolene. All those puns with my Dad seem to be paying off in a poetic word game.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On May 25, 2018 @ 12:51 am

Fishing for a Compliment

I hope you love my poem.
Ain’t it really cool?
Here I go attempting “clever”
Maybe acting like a fool.
I’m angling for a compliment.
That is what I’m always wishing.
I hope I get a whopper.
This is why I’m fishing.
I think this one’s a doozy
It’s got rhyme, alliteration,
Abracadrbra, VooDoo, Hocus Pocus,
And Razzle Dazzle reduplication.
Is that not where the magic is?
The “can” in “incantation?”
Free Verse is well and fine
But lacking in ostentation.
So, I cast out.
I hope I get you hooked.
When then I reel you in,
You cant’t be less than “Gadzooked!”
Astonished and amazed
By my sleight of mind?
Now you see it or you don’t.
The scheme is in the rhyme.
Well, now, I’m almost done.
Can you forgive my lack of tact?
I hope I don’t break my arm
While patting my own back.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On May 24, 2018 @ 10:45 am

The word: Diversity

Diversity

These days it means more
Than a synonym for “variety.”
“Diversity” is fraught
With implications of propriety.
Is it not more than proper
To practice inclusivity?
But efforts to assimilate
Are wrought with negativity.
We must come together but,
Our “set aparts” must be preserved
Multifarious homogeneity
Must, absolutely, be conserved.
Is it a recipe for crazy to be
Compelled by this compunction?
Make yourself at home.
This is Dysfunction Junction.
Tribes, cultures, languages,
Religions, races, creeds
National and local affinity,
And those of different needs.
Sex, sub cultures, fashion, music,
Age, appearance, affiliation
All unify and divide to our
Consternation and frustration.
If there is an “us,”
There has got to be a “them”
The seeds of our divisions
Yield a harvest of mayhem.
Oppressed and oppressors,
Social strata and born castes,
Rich/poor, noble/common
Are never in the past.
Parties of our politics,
They say they have a vision,
But, it seems, many are myopic
In exploiting our divisions.
We’re in it for the long run.
We want our short term gains.
We like it the way it is
But must embrace the change.
What are we going to do?
If you’re wanting my advice,
I’m going to use the simple “n-word”
Why don’t you all be “nice?”

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On May 19, 2018 @ 11:17 am

The word: Dazzling

Birds of a Feather…

Recently we spoke
Of gatherings of birds,
Of fun collective nouns,
Pluralities in words.
I’m hopeful you recall
That of which I talk
I am speaking of some phrases
Descriptive of a flock.
I’ve a little secret, but
First, I must disclaim.
What follows I made up.
So, I must accept some blame.
Do you think that we could call
Several Buzzards, three at least,
When they’re carrion on,
They might be called a “Feast?”
For Birds of Paradise,
I’ve enjoined another phrase,
In the jungle when they gather
They might be termed a “Praise?”
How about the red birds?
In groups when the behave,
Like their Cardinal counterparts,
Could be known as a “Conclave.”
There are those tiny birds
Which assemble now and then
I’m thinking they’re a Wrangle—
A “Wrangle of some Wrens.”
Popular in poetry,
Little birdies singing for us,
Certainly, some species,
Combined, could be a “chorus”
You know I could go on
Because I think it’s fun,
But I’ll leave with just one more
And then I’ve got to run.
Thanks for your indulgence.
Your patience must be frazzling
But, in Autumn, riding frontal winds
The Hummers are a “Dazzling.”

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On May 14, 2018 @ 2:30 pm

The word: Kindness

Put It on a Bumper Sticker

When America goes to war,
Apply another bumper sticker.
This is how we roll.
Nothing says it quicker.
“Pray for Whirled Peas,”
Was written by someone with a blender
Whose intentions were purée.
For me it’s a contender.
Short by definition,
Almost a kind of lashing
Take this, I am gone.
A whip stroke done in passing.
“I’m experiencing life at
55 WTFs PER HOUR”
Suggests I am incredulous
And the situation’s dour.
Some are quite sincere.
Others are ironic.
Sometimes they’re turning phrases
Which have become iconic.
“Practice Random Kindness
And Senseless Acts of Beauty”
I feel I must repeat here
It’s almost sacred duty.
Stickers are almost always pithy
They’re quips of last resort.
Haha! I’ve got the last word
And you’ve got no retort.
“Practice random Schadenfreude
And senseless acts of Spite“
I read it when you passed me,
Passed me on the right.
“When we outlaw guns,
Can we still fight with swords?”
Is a kind of social fencing.
It’s how riposte is scored.
“Don’t let your ability to annoy
Exceed your value as entertainment”
Suggests that irascibility
Ought be tempered with restrainment.
Bumper stickers are a simple way
Of expressing on the cheap
Our politics and values
Without getting very deep.
I know that it is true that
“Mean People Suck”
How can I doubt its veracity?
I saw it on a truck.
Many we find funny,
These expressions of belief,
Viewed by others jammed in traffic
Providing some relief.
“I dream of a world
Where chickens cross the road
And their motives are not questioned.”
They get respect that they are owed.
“Critical Thinking- The Other National Deficit”
Sets you and me apart.
I’m claiming I’m discerning
And you are ones that aren’t.
I saw one the other day
It was just a strip of bacon
But having missed my breakfast
Its point was not mistaken.
A lady drove saw a small truck.
It had a rainbow sticker.
And “Let go of my ears, I know what I am doing.”
Could not have said it quicker.
So, be sure to watch my bumper
Be sure to watch my rear.
I’ll be leaving you a thought
As I disappear.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On May 5, 2018 @ 10:55 am

For the Birds

For fun collective nouns,
Leave it to the mavens.
They came to the term
An “unkindness” of ravens.
They’ve other fancy words
For ways we’ve come to talk,
Groupings quite unique
And descriptive of a flock.
Other corvine birds,
Bane of the farmer/herder,
Battlefield carrion eaters,
Crows are called a “murder.”
Many dislike these avians.
They’re not exactly darlings.
When they voice together–
A “murmuration” of the starlings
Though we call them fowl,
It’s always a sensation.
An assembled bunch of peacocks
Is called an “ostentation.”
What is good for the goose…
On this we never haggle.
It makes me want to giggle that
They’re best known as a “gaggle.”
You already knew that,
But go walking in the park
And you may be delighted
By an “exaltation” of some larks.
The wise ones when they gather,
You know which ones I meant,
I’m talking about the owls
Who convene in “parliament.”
When things get out of hand,
Often, it’s a “party” of some jays
Who get on to carousing
In most obnoxious ways.
Standing on the shorelines
In their ranks we see a “muster.”
Storks are fishing quietly
Without any sort of bluster.
Soaring in the sky,
They seem in finest fettle.
Riding rising thermals
Are the hawks within a “kettle.”
Flying from the brush,
They burst in a “bouquet.”
Pheasants, flushed, are fleeing
It’s dangerous if they stay.
Not a linguist or ornithologist but,
I’ve been inspired from above.
When these symbols are assembled:
A “kindness” of some doves?

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On May 3, 2018 @ 1:17 pm

The word: Connection

Threnody for Spitfire

Spitfire died last night
And, so, today I grieve.
He met his final fate.
There is no reprieve.
He was a quite good forest cat
Who enjoyed the trees,
A good purrer and an eater,
Lived life as he would please.
As one of the castrati,
He was docile and content.
Enjoyed a shining sunbeam.
His life, on whole, well-spent.
Something ate his leg
Maybe a coyote or a dog.
So, I had to put him down.
This is his epilogue.
We all have our connection.
We’re links in the food chain
For a time we’re at the top,
But that will always change.
It makes me kind of wonder
Which species dominates.
Everything that is eaten
Is something that once ate.
Old Spitfire might have seemed a monster
Fraught with fangs and claws
To a mouse, bird, or a lizard
He might be something out of “Jaws”
It seems there’s always something
Higher up the chain
That, in circumstance, is more dangerous
It’s a way of life that’s strange.
Life in the woods is parlous
But it comes with great reward
With fresh air, clean dirt, cool breezes
But your end may be untoward.
Farewell, my furry friend.
Know that you’ll be missed.
There are forces beyond our making
That we cannot resist.
I pretend I am the King but,
I could be toppled by some germs
I suppose we all are destined
To become some food for worms.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On April 30, 2018 @ 2:10 am

Benignancy

It’s really hard to knock kindness.
I know ‘cause I’ve been trying.
Getting down on benignancy
Leaves only room for crying.
I also like its best friend,
The one called common courtesy.
Good manners ought be taught.
They’re not as common as they ought to be.
Now, I’m not talking about the fork you use
At some hoity-toity dinner.
Rules imposed by the conceited
To mark you loser/winner.
Kindness often smiles
It’s indulgent and forbearing
Ain’t we all got us some foibles?
Let’s be tolerant and caring.
Kindness doesn’t sweat the small stuff.
It wants to be your friend
It overlooks the awkward and
Finds reason to transcend.
Kindness says “Hi” to strangers,
Or, maybe, just gives a nod or wink.
There’s nothing here to fear, my friend,
We’re closer than you think.
A simple communication
May be found within my mien.
It’s a wish for our goodwill.
That almost goes unseen.
Especially when we differ,
Kindness smooths the path.
All these random nano-acts
Become some mega-math.
I’m sure there will be a book
“How to be More Kind”
Maybe it’s been done
But it’s in your heart you’ll find.
Kindness pets a puppy.
It smiles at little kids.
It’s not about the clamping down
But loves removing lids.
It’s about connection.
It’s simple and it’s free.
But it’s a seed that must be watered
Drop by drop into a tree.
Let us vow to be more kind.
We cannot deny it.
The world will be a nicer place
If only we will try it.

Revised from PFS- Kindness- May 2016

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On April 25, 2018 @ 3:17 pm

The word: Wormhole

Portals

Cross an event horizon,
Go through any threshold’s door,
You will be at an inception
To engage in metaphor.
Perhaps, some grand opening
Such as St. Peter’s Gate
Or a trip into a modest rabbit hole.
You’re late, you’re late, you’re late.
Sometimes it signals imminence
Of a transition or great change
Or only a subtle shift in time or place
That cannot be less strange.
Other times, immanence,
Inherent and pervading.
No reason for a change
Or places to be trading.
Down the hatch, they sometimes say,
As one descends into the hold
Or one decides to take a shot,
Consequences will unfold.
Sometimes there is a turnstile.
You can only go one way.
But, get stuck in a revolving door,
Should you go or should you stay?
A portal marks the brink,
The verge from here to there,
A passage through space-time,
A continuum to new where.
Every doorway is a wormhole
Like the kind in science fiction.
It’s possible to be swept away
To paradox and contradiction.
Every day’s an open door
Inviting new events.
Also a closing off
To a while passing and a whence.
Every entrance is an exit,
A moment opportune.
You may wish to think on this
Next time you leave the room.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On April 20, 2018 @ 4:04 pm

The word: Enforcer

Cruising for a Bruising

Let’s take those old cruise missiles.
Start shaking off the dust.
Launch them to the sky.
Show we are Syrious.
They’re not doing anything
While parked in the garage.
They only do us any good
When used in a barrage.
So, why don’t we light them up?
Send them off into the sky
To some unhappy landings.
They’ll know the reasons why.
You can’t kill your own people.
At least not using gas.
But if you blow them up, starve, or shoot them
You will get a pass.
Why is it that we do this?
Draw these lines upon the sand?
When waves erode from underfoot
We lose ground on which we stand.
Bombast and bravado.
Who’s got the biggest button?
Trump, Assad, or Puttin
May make it all for nuttin’.
So, further push this war.
Show them our displeasure.
Let’s waste allot more innocents,
Our nation’s youth, and treasure.
Will we never learn
When we’re spending arms and legs?
It rarely is of help.
It’s the victims who must to beg.
Let us not let loose
Those mongrels of war
Trying to enforce
By giving them what for.
Again, these pompous asses
Are raising a big stink
Emitting noxious gasses
And we are at the brink.
We’ve got these bigtime egos
With their preposturing
Who won’t be the ones to suffer
While they do their thing.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On April 12, 2018 @ 12:19 am

The word: Ephemeral

Recycled from July of 2016 when the word was also “Ephemeral”

A Fly in the Annointment

I met a real nice girl this morning.
She’s really, really smart.
Not like other gals on the fly.
She’s not some kind of tart.
We’re going to spend the day together.
Spend some time aloft.
There may be something special here.
We’ve really hit it off.
OMG! She says she wants to love me!
I must be one lucky guy.
She said she wants my children.
And I’m going to let her try.
We may spend our lives together-
That’s my dream and reverie,
Enjoy life’s joys and sorrows
And all that’s meant to be.
What!? She says we may not have much time.
That we’ve got no time to waste.
Well, I guess I’ll repent in leisure
As we consummate in haste.
Oh, no! She says we have no future.
I’m not sure just what she means.
This is so confusing but,
I’ll take things as they seem.
I may not be the brightest.
She said she likes ‘em big and dumb
She says I’m good for breeding
Big, dumb, and full of…I should take things as they come.
That doesn’t sound too bad for me
And I may not know it all,
But the lady thinks I’m wonderful-
She says I’m “e-fee-mor-all.”
That’s a pretty fancy word but,
If it means that I’m the one
To be spending all her days with,
We will have our fun.
So, I’m going to go ahead and do it.
I’m going to give our love a try,
A love for all tomorrows,
A love for a mayfly guy.

The mayfly, in its final developemental form, does not survive for long, rarely for more than 24 hours. In some species, it may last for just a few minutes. – Wikipedia

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On April 5, 2018 @ 9:13 am

The word: Quixotic

bee longing. Good one.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On April 7, 2018 @ 11:48 am

Fun! I’m glad you didn’t.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On March 30, 2018 @ 2:38 pm

Permanent Impermanence, Perdurable Perturbation

Constantly we organize
But it’s a mission most quixotic
Just as constant is unravelling
To a status quite chaotic.
Maybe I should give up
So entropy can reign
Let go of my vexations
Enjoy transitory gains.
Why should I clean house?
Too soon there comes the dirt.
Pristine is just a concept
With which my efforts flirt.
It always seems to me
That nothing is achieved.
Even with best efforts
I strive, I’m not relieved.
Clothing soon is wrinkled,
Shoes become untied,
And ceramic bowls are broken
As my will is tried.
Sturdy iron rusts.
Walls of paint are peeled.
If the proof is in smooth pudding
It soon crusts, becomes congealed.
Once I saw some epitaphs.
They were etched in stone.
A mere four hundred years of weather
Saw inscriptions worn, undone.
What am I to do?
Be engaged in constant war?
Will ever I know peace
From depredations I abhor?
Why must I endure
Constant trial and tribulation
As achievement is undone
To perdurable frustration?
Permanent impermanence.
That is what I dread.
Will I only find eternity
After I am dead?
I explained this to my therapist.
She said I’ve got some OCDs
I find that I am thoroughly pissed
Being brought down to my knees.
Sure, I could go on,
And on, and on, and on, and on,
And on, and on, and on, and on,
And on, and on, and on, and on…

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On March 30, 2018 @ 2:20 pm

The word: Curiouser

Thank you, Patty. I’m glad you are back. You and several other early and long-time poet participants have been missed.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On March 28, 2018 @ 2:02 am

One more indulgence. I know. You do it every week. But I have been honored to have one of my poems selected for the 2018 Austin International Poetry Festival anthology. This is the third year one of my pieces has been selected. This year, a version of my poem “Bad Rooster! Let’s Put Him in a Pot!” written for the prompt word “Crestfallen” from last December was chosen. You can still access that poem on PFS. Thanks Elisabeth and Everybody for inspiration, indulgence, and reading my stuff.

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On March 23, 2018 @ 2:18 pm

Malice in Wonderland, Part Two, The Cat

Malice took her leave
As the caterpillar morphed,
“I wonder what’s next.
Could it be a troll or dwarf?”
She still had the two morsels,
The portions of a morel,
Promises of two world views
Ones setting up a quarrel.
“Truth is stranger than fiction,”
Kept running through her brain,
“Cause fiction must be plausible…”
To paraphrase Mark Twain.
“It seems I have a choice to make,”
She looked into her hands.
“Fantasy” and “Reality”
Are the labelled brands.
Slowly, she decided
“Some of both might be best”
To the sound of her lips smacking,
She put them to the test.
“What a damned dilemma!”
Was the thought that crossed her mind,
“We have a Reality TV President
To put us in a bind.”
Just then there appeared
A leering cat up in a tree.
Even as he smiled…
A strange malignancy.
“Hey there, pretty girl.
Do you want to be a star?
If only you will trust me,
I can take you far.”
“Why do you smile that way?” responded Malice,
“There must be some kind of catch.
You say that I must trust you.
You’ve got a plot to hatch.”
“Only, you must rub my belly.” purred the cat,
“I will scratch your back.
Deduce what is infurred
It’s only tit for tat.”
“You should be ashamed!
I’m not that kind of girl!
You’re a creepy thing!
Get out of my world!”
Slowly, the feline faded,
The cat who ate the catenary,
‘Til what was left of his chagrin
Was something less than airy.
Curiouser and curiouser…
Can we trust what we can see?
Is imagination just a weapon
To defeat reality?
Why is so much of what is real
Stuff that is absurd?
What can Malice learn?
Is there a final word?

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On March 23, 2018 @ 2:04 pm

I hope you will indulge me. I submitted this last May for the prompt word “Transition.” It is part one to this week’s part two.

Malice in Wonderland, Part One

Malice sat her down
Underneath a tree
She thought that she might nap
Or engage in reverie-
“Some people run amok,” she thought,
“But first they have to crawl?
Do they ever walk amok
Or sit amok, at all?”
Suddenly she awakened
In a peculiar time and space
It seems she had transitioned
To somewhere out of place.
“Maybe I should find myself
And take that amok walk.
Maybe I can find someone
And we can have a talk.”
Malice found the caterpillar
Sitting on a ‘shroom
“Take a bite from each side
But be sure to leave me room.”
“You don’t need to worry,” replied Malice,
“Cause soon you will transform.
What you have been doing
Will no longer be the norm.
You will feel like cocooning,
Then take a little snooze,
Soon you will awaken
To a life you did not choose.
But it’s going to be okay.
It’ll be a life that sings
‘Cause you can go aloft
Riding on your wings.”
“Harrumph,” said the worm
“I don’t like the sound of that.
I’m used to be here eating,
Eating… getting fat.”
“Let me tell you something,” said Malice,
“It is going to sound quite strange.
But the only thing that’s static
Is the constancy of change.”
“I’m not going to listen
To any of your ilk,”
Said the hip-cat upon his pillar
As he wrapped himself in silk.
“At least I’ve got my ‘shroom snacks,” thought Malice,
“One is labeled ‘Fantasy’
And the one on the other hand
Is called ‘Reality.’
I wonder which tastes better,
I’ll give each one a munch,
It’s a good thing that I have these
‘Cause I think I have missed lunch.”
Transition, metamorphosis…
Can you spare some change?
How is one to prepare for
A life that’s rearranged?

» Posted By Martin Mayland, Austin, Texas On March 23, 2018 @ 2:01 pm

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