Sunny Side Of the Street

She wants to help

Every day

Sending ray upon ray

Of her

A sunny disposition

And now a scientific

Proposition

Take her positive energy

And make a road

That

Powers the car

(if it's electric)

The nation

And makes refuse

Use-

Ful

Can it be reality?

Maybe

It's up to you and me

(watch the movie...)

This is so unbelievably cool!  They have a prototype, they have an FB page too.  Are there issues? Sure. But just the concept, the idea that this could be, is pretty doggone thrilling!!  I love the wonder of it.  Deep breath, feel the wonder?!  Yes, I knew you would :-)

So Thank you to Poetry Jam for the inspiration--write a poem that is for didactic (interesting teaching) purpose.  poetryjaam.blogspot.com  Also for open link night at dversepoets.com

Rain Drop Doo Wop

Walking has a rhythm, the gortex rain jacket crunching against my shorts, follows that beat, in a crunching-swish way, and the streams of water--falling, falling, falling from the clouds-sky, from the tree-branches-needles-leaves, hitting my head, my arms, my dog, my legs, the ground.

But what do I see? I see the streams of water—falling, falling, falling onto the surface of the ponds and splashing, bouncing back, makes me think of music, drums, a piano. Rhythm. The challenge, wrap up that memory, soak it, turn it, tweak it—put it into words that move, that make you feel the music, the beat, the staccato, the mambo, the splash-dance of waterplay across a still surface, a surface that yields, in explosive sprays. How to trap this wonder, let loose my muse and paint with words, just the right words, that put you into this moment, this raincoat, with me while the rain falls, falls, falls while the clouds thunder and laugh at my feeble attempts to capture magic with words.

I was recently asked about writing prose--always been intrigued, but never tried--so here it is my first attempt.  I think.  Brooke Horvath's poem “Definition” says a prose poem should be...”not too short and not too long, somewhere between a snort and a song.”  I think I snorted.

Written for the Poetry Pantry at Poets United poetryblogroll.blogspot.com  

 

C-Bond

 IBM Research scientists imaged the bond order and length of individual carbon-carbon bonds in C60

 C the bond
Look closely
Atomic force microscopy

We be C-

Based
From the C
Connected, bonded
You and me
Microscopically
Globally
No matter
What our thoughts
May be
You C?

This discovery fill me with awe and glee.  I mean, it is the coolest thing ever!!  An actual photo of the bonds in a carbon atom--how amazing is that? We can take a photo of atomic bonds--mind blowing really.  All those years looking at and drawing carbon bonds, with hydrogen, etc. yawn--and now a real picture of it!!  Also, just reinforces my belief, we're all part of the same stuff, time for all us peoples to get along.  Happy bonding!!  Inspired by the prompt at poetryjaam.blogspot.com, to look closely.

Keyless

He knows

Can almost feel the release

Hear the soft thud

As the fob and key

Fall into his son's hand

“I fell asleep at the stoplight”

He confesses to the office staff

But not to me

He knows

They'll tell me

He always shifts into neutral

Just

In

Case

But that doesn't make it safe

He knows

Freedom is a key

That fits in the ignition

A simple turn

Of events

No one wants to think it

Or say it

But

He knows

Written for Open Link night at dversepoets.com  Didn't intend to go to the dark side, but sometimes, life just takes you there, and the only key to escape is you gotta write a poem...

Doilies

Credit Artwork by Vicki Sheehan

Title:  Collage - Original Mixed Media Art - Golden Threads

Dark shiny table tops

Soft white lace

Home décor contrasted

Like the hard-working men

And soft-spoken women

Who sat on the chesterfield

Sipping Manhattans

Smoking Tareytons

While little girls

Pressed, scrubbed clean

Sat, lips sealed

Hands folded, and watched

The scene, memorized

Lipstick, gestures

The magic of smoke rings

Never knowing that they

Were learning an era

Not an eventuality

Written for Poets United at poetryblogroll.blogspot.com who invite you to write about a mystery and timeworn memories--with inspiration from the works of Vicki Sheehan-visual artist

The lace in this piece of art reminded me of the doilies my grandma (Norwegian) used to put on all her polished dark wood end tables and side tables.  The intricacies always fascinated me, just like her ability to blow perfect smoke rings.  I will never know why she called a "couch" a "chesterfield" because I never thought to ask, it just was...

Really?

It might have been the broad shoulders

Maybe the Roman nose

Or winning grin

And taller than me

Sat behind me in Spanish class

Was so dreamy

Felt a little chemistry

Then Mono hit me--two weeks

Tossed and turned in fever, sure

That I'd lost my chance

Instead, the day I returned

He asked me to the Homecoming Dance

In shock, I squeaked a “yes”

And he answered, “Really?”

As they say, the rest...

Was typical high school romance

Doomed before it's through

But for that single moment

It was a dream come true

Written for the prompt, “Moment that impacted you” for poetryjaam.blogspot.com; Openlink night at dversepoets.com and Poetic Bloomings prompt #72—first love

This was the first true love, took a few more frogs before I figured things out, but as they say, you never forget your “first” :-)

Otta Be Autumn

No shades of leafy reds

                         Are seen

                              In the land of perpetual

                                                            Green

No yellows, oranges

                         Or gold

                                Where people flee

                                           To escape
                                                      The Cold

No winey scent, or frosty chill

                          No leaves to rake

                                          Or cookies to

                                                          Bake

                  (it's too darn hot, for goodness sake)

Just hurricane season

                         And humidity

                                       Happy trees

                                              But wistful Me

Thanks to the inspiration from Think Tank Thursday #103 at Poets United poetryblogroll.blogspot.com

And unfortunately, true.  Used to live where we had a fabulous Autumn, and I love every little bit of it, from the brisk breeze, scent of rotting leaves, frosty edged hedges, colorful trees, even the skeletal remains after every leaf dropped--all beautiful and fond memories.  Sigh--cheers to everyone who is entering this magical time. :-)

Shades of Summer

Sunlight slipped
Through
Oak trees
Weaving beam and branch
To paint gray
Picnic table planks
With shadow leaves
While the breeze
Tickled my neck
Whispering
Secrets
Only I could hear


Sharing with Openlink Night at dversepoets.com; this poem was also recently published at the amazingly cool online poetry mag http://www.jellyfishwhispers.com  A.J. Huffman, editor and phenomenal poet.  Check it out!  Submissions are open :-)