Senility
Contributed by Phyllis Martin
Senility, senility
Seems to be getting to me.
Older I get – the more I forget,
And actin’ like it’s a luxury.
Senility, senility
Don’t seem to have much agility.
Definitely lacking dexterity,
Not to mention flexibility.
Senility, senility
Total lack of creativity.
Never did have originality.
Something to do with ability.
Senility, senility
Would tell of my life’s history.
There’d be a problem with memory,
Probably leading to my finality!
Just My Luck
Contributed by Yvonne Moss
Power outage, darkness.
The view in front of me - nothingness.
Flashlights flicker as do the lights.
A voice cries out,
“B-22!”
I cannot see.
A probing light comes near.
I hear the question,
“B-22? Do you have that?”
The overhead lights flicker.
“I don’t think so,” I reply.
Darkness again.
“Bingo!” pipes a voice from behind.
The lights come on,
They stay this time.
I gaze at my card,
B-22 is glaring at me.
Just my luck,
For playing Bingo in the dark.
Leaving Home
Contributed by Rod Rongstad
A wretched wind tears at a battered shingle,
Bending back and back again.
A part of it longs for freedom,
Soon has its way, and is gone on the wind.
A remnant though remains,
Held fast by steady, anchor nails.
I Reflect
Contributed by Robert Lyons
I reflect,
The broken internet. What the heck? I object.
Dopamine, a lot of green, a mean machine, behind the screen
The wizard laughs, checks his graphs, knows his math, digital sabbath
Spreading wings, a web obscene. The masses cringe, a wicked scene,
Souls usurped, perpetrated by greed, eclipsed man’s true purpose.
The deed is done, greed has won and man is none, his war not won.
A waste at paces that leave no trace we face, turned out from grace
Knowledge’s tree has rotten roots. The truth is often confused.
Man’s guiding light, a god of might, truths delight, lost in the night.
Replaced by the glow of slovenly slow, soulless zombie hordes.
No future, no hope, no nurturing slopes, no space left to cope.
Famine and disease, man’s urges pleased, his needs will be bereaved.
No odyssey, trotting thin ice we leave stability.
Mars gone, the moon forgotten, herding people to nirvana.
The gift of stuff not enough to sway the tough to heal the rift.
Left to rot, the galaxies existence lost to destiny.
All the times and wars bloody grinds, advanced our minds not to shine.
But instead we Facebook and tweet about personal defeat,
Uncaring about the pain and savage wrath we now all share,
Indifferent to the struggling human, spirit unlifting.
The internet, man’s decline. I say, “What the heck?” one more time.
A New Year, Donned
Contributed by Nan Potts
A sky, salmon-fleshed silhouettes,
A mural of gray-stone minarets;
Hewn and carved by Nature's hand,
Announcing dawn o're boreal land.
Today, Winter serves a gentle calm
Upon the land, a soothing balm.
For tomorrow, may a tempest hit;
Tantamount to a toddler's fit.
Bewitched allure of calm and squalls,
Observant through keen eyeballs
Of this great land's capricious notions;
Dynamics aired, in rhythmic motions.
Dark with light and cold, with fire,
The North Pole cants its axis higher.
Where arctics lay in oppositions,
Polarized by their positions.
The apex, now, this season's reached,
A knowingness of newness preached.
Brings winter's solstice, light is spawned
And New Year's Day has now been donned.
