Poetry2ponder's Blog

“Post-Corona”

Part 3

Deserted streets
In a devastated city.
In an abandoned state

Walks a woman,
With a scrappy dog
And a desolate mind.

Barren,
After the plague,
After her regrets.

But the woman and her dog
Still walk, peacefully,
Beneath the star-lit skies.

Part 2

The trees are quiet today –
Even the birds have nothing to say –
As the aliens land, looking for a new home,
Leaving their parents’ abode they’ve outgrown.

Buildings remain, gathering dust.
Streetlights, standing tall, begin to rust.
The cars are all neatly parked,
As no one would go outside – to brave the dark,

The darkness of uncertainty,
Certain that the virus would catch them,
The darkness of anger and fear,
As if those were feelings they could hide from.

Their governments had failed;
Safety was an illusion, too easily shattered.
So they huddled in their homes,
As if that could be called living, and nothing else mattered.

Some Time Later

When she didn’t get sick,
She thought she was crazy.
How am I the only one left?
This must be some sort of trick.

The universe was vast
And she was alone –
On a giant rock with water,
The only home she’d ever known.

Until she met a mutt she named “Happy”.
Though she knew it was corny and sappy,
There was no one left in the world to judge,
And from her “Happy” decision, she would not budge.

The world was her oyster –
Though they had all died.
She would wander wherever,
Merrily, with Happy by her side.

The End?

When the aliens arrived,
Everyone there was surprised.
She was shocked and so was the dog,
They hadn’t thought anyone survived.

The aliens asked if she was “the Ruler”.
And though she never fancied herself a queen,
She could think of nothing cooler.
She said, “Yes, it’s all mine, everything you see.”

So the aliens explained their intentions,
They were only looking for a new start.
And so she invited them to share their inventions,
And, because she was lonely, she would share her home and her heart.

“Chocolate Croissants into Wins”

I turn chocolate croissants
Into lyrical pensants.
I make up words,
Don’t follow the herd.
I drink my cappuccino,
Then I make your mind blow,
Not hot air,
Just some fun,
Expressing and expelling worries
To renew ourselves and reach our inner Sun.

I paint pictures, like Dega,
I write about missing Ma and Pa.
I take shots like Kobe,
But I brick just like me.
I turn tears into triumphs,
I do sprints and long jumps,
And when I fall short, I simply retort
I’ll try again, after practice, with a pen,
For trial and error is the way of this sport,
And I will eventually contort my failures to wins.

“Work, Work, Work”

Work, work, work.
It’s no fun
Unless you like what you do.
Then it’s simply a ton.

Work, work, work,
Keep it up.
Keep going until you get there.
Don’t lose track of your progress – stay aware.

Another milestone,
Another step further,
You can see the finish line,
Just keep your feet moving with time.

“Every Being (A Paradox)”

Every being
Is lost
In a sea
Of found.

Every body
At rest
Is
A body
In motion.

Existence
As separate
Entities
Is
A paradox.

“I am the dog”

I am the dog
As you are the worm
And I’m in the poop,
Searching for you

Wanting to play
And to eat.

I am the dirt
And you are the virus
Hunted by a phage
Hiding in plain sight

While I cover
The lonely earth.

“Am I an asshole?”

Am I an asshole,
For eating my croissant
Inside, while my dog
Stands lonely, outside the cafe?

Am I heartless,
For walking right by
A homeless man, covered,
By clothes? I think he’s alive.

Am I dead inside,
Because I don’t cry?
I don’t cry much anymore,
When encountering poverty and war.

“Six Poems”

Six poems
Six sets of words
Today, my contribution
To a sick, sick world
In need of healing

In need of

Chesed.

Hello all!  I have plenty of new poems to post.  They will be coming out daily, as I have lots of inspiration these days.  Here’s a few I wrote today.

“Wouldn’t It Be Terrible?”

Wouldn’t it be terrible if people protested outside Trump’s properties?
Wouldn’t it be sad if his businesses were forced to shut down?
It would be tragic if some protesters were to block traffic to his gorgeous estates.
Boy, would he be mad if he couldn’t get through his golden gates?

Wouldn’t it be horrible if everyone knew Trump did deals with Vory v Zakone?
What if they knew he dealt with murderers and rapists? Would they see through his baloney?
Wouldn’t it be comical if Trump’s own Attorney General were disbarred?
Wouldn’t it be peachy if his own Attorney General were impeached?

If only Pelosi would listen to me,
Maybe these daydreams would actually come to be.

“Trump and his Golden Throne”

Trump sits on his golden throne,
For hours, tweeting all alone,
Trying to get rid of all the bs,
But he spewed it out for us, what a mess!

Directing the DOJ to go easy on his friends,
While going poopsie in his Depends,
Asking for investigations of his rivals,
Threatening to sue magazines for libel,

What would happen if he lost his golden throne?
Would everyone simply leave him alone?
Sometimes he is tempted to step down,
But then everyone would see him not as a king, but a clown.

“Another Cappuccino”

Another cappuccino gone,
Another dose of caffeine,
To my addict brain,
My runaway train.

Another coffee,
Break, from reality,
Or from sleep,
I’m not sure,
Which is sadder.
For both, I weep.

“Blah, blah”

Blah,
Blah, blah,
Another blathering,
Someone did something
To someone

For no reason
That we know of
Inside their heads
The analysis swirls,
As we attempt
To make sense of it all.

Blah, blah,
Blah, blah,
Something is happening
To me, to you, to us.
We tune out, we pretend
Not to care, not to worry.

We want
Control.

“Why”

Why

Why do
We do
What we do
For what purpose?
For whose sake?
Why can’t we
Accept
Ourselves?

“Finish, start”

Finish this,
Start that,
In the middle of
My cappuccino
All these thoughts
Worries really
Interrupt
My present
Bliss.

“Nightmares and Dreams”

Nightmares and dreams
Two words for the same idea
One good
One bad.
Two thins so similar
Opposed to one another,
A contradiction of language
Of logic and principle.

If one can have a bad dream,
Can one have

a good nightmare?

“A Serious Writer”

A serious writer
Never silly
Always full of
Suspense, intrigue,
Mystery, history,
Hysteria, nostalgia,

Focus,
One
Word

At a time,

When I was
A serious
Writer.

“Intertwined”

Bitter
Sweet
Intertwined,
Complementing
Fulfilling
Completing

One taste
Coffee
Off-putting
And entrancing.

One cup
A multitude
Of opinions.

“To Judge”

How quick we are
To react
To taste
To smell
To judge

One more chance
Can you
Give me
One?

“Letters from Donald” by Trevor Witt

Dear Mr. Orban,
How do you deflect criticisms that the fake news throws at you?
Dear Donald,
By blaming the deep state, academics, and a cabal of Jews.

Dear Mohammed bin Salman,
How did you get away with murdering a U.S.-based journalist and prominent members of a religious minority?
Dear Donald,
For the first one, I said it was a rogue operation and for the rest I claimed anti-terrorism authority.

Dear Mr. Duterte,
How did you get away with killing thousands en masse without trials?
Dear Donald,
I accused them of drug dealing and ran with that for miles.

Dear Putin,
Why did you help me win the presidency?
Dear Donald,
Because you asked me and it was shown on national TV!

Dear Kim Jong Un,
I want everyone to like me.  Why don’t they like me?
Dear Donald,
It’s okay to be hated and lonely.
Dear Kim Jong Un,
Thanks for understanding.  I wish we could just throw everyone is prison camps.

Dear Donald,
Now you are beginning to understand.  Wishing you all the best, Gramps!

“Ben Carson’s Ditty” by Trevor Witt

I’m a HUD Secretary and I don’t care
If kids are made homeless or left in foster care.

I’m a HUD Secretary and I don’t know
What the definition is of an REO!

I’m HUD Secretary and I want it,
A custom table where I can sit.

I don’t care how much it costs,
Or even whether my soul is lost.

I am a HUD Secretary and I’m the best,
In Trump’s cabinet, which is such a mess!
For some, words do not matter, but words can change the world.  Add an “l” to a word and the world is yours.  Use your worlds carefully, wisely, earnestly, and often.

It is Wednesday somewhere,
Somewhere out in the ether,
Where my poetry posts are presented on time,
Somewhere where I have structure and rhyme.

It is Wordsmith Wednesday,
Where the poem is waiting to be birthed.
In the land of angst and uncertainty,
There is a treasure waiting to be unearthed.

Maybe it is only a shiny rock,
This little poem of mine.
Maybe it is not so shiny,
And I shouldn’t waste my time.

But, alas, the days go by,
Time spits in our eye,
And we believe we age,
When, in reality, we have no gauge.

The sun rises and it sets,
And people go about their daily tasks.
But today is the day for poetry.
“Isn’t it Wednesday somewhere?”, I ask.

While it is technically Thursday, which means I am late with my blog post, I will make the argument that it is still Wednesday in Hawaii.  Thus, I have successfully posted new poetry for the second week in a row here.  Happy Wordsmith Wednesday everyone – even if it is a little late. One more note for any new readers: any poems posted here without being attributed to an author in the post are by Trevor Witt (me).  Also, if you wish to have poetry featured here, I love to have poetry by guest poets as well.

“Another Late Night Poem”

Another late night poem,
When will the day
Have enough
Time?

When will I
Have enough
Time?

Time to write,
Time to right
The wrongs I see.
Where is
Humanity?

When will the day be enough
To write all my poetry, rough?
When will the day let me rest,
Comfy in dreams, next to my beloved’s breast?

“Hawaii”

Hawaii,
Save me!
You were the last state to join the union!
Now you are my last hope, way out on the ocean!
The mainland is a mess,
Alaska’s no better, I confess.
You are still sunny when California goes to sleep.
You give me hope, despite my despair from our presidential creep.

Mahalo!
May the waves be good bro!

Quick update.  It has been a long time since I have posted poetry here.  For that, I am sorry.  I appreciate all my readers and hope that some of the poetry I write connects with you.  I will be updating once a week again on a regular basis – each Wednesday.  And, for each post in the future, I hope to feature another author’s poems, along with mine.  Happy Wordsmith Wednesday!

“Light As A Feather” – by Trevor Witt

I am as light as a feather,
As my love carries me,
Through all sorts of weather,
Towards the sea.

Passion and kindness,
Lower my density,
By mitigating my stress,
And diminishing my propensity for intensity.

The sunlight of her face,
Calms me as we embrace,
And I cannot think of a better place,
To experience G-d’s grace.