Listen! You can hear the wind howl And feel it shaking the house As the dog's quick to growl And is shushed by my spouse.
Patience! SCE proactively turned off our power Last night at 7 was when it went dead Hoping now in the kitchen the milk doesn't sour Yet the butter I've found is so easily spread.
Worry! It's not just the reefer I worry about It's more than the food that might spoil It's my iPhone's ability to let me shout out When its battery gets low on oil.
Resignation. So I sit here and wait for my phone to go dead And try to ignore angry thoughts in my head Cause they told us the power won't be back 'til tomorrow And I've little to do save to drown in my sorrow.
Thankfully, the power came on an hour or so after I finished writing this and nothing spoiled. We got lucky, IMO.
It’s been a while since I’ve written much poetry, but I do have some old poems I’ve saved over the years. This one is probably at least 25 years old. It was written to a woman I was absolutely smitten with. Unfortunately, she was struggling with alcoholism and was also (ultimately) afraid of commitment. I was ready, but it wasn’t to be. Someone familiar with the work of Kahlil Gibran may notice his influence on this particular piece.
What wonders have I known since first I met you I have tasted of your lips Yet it is the thoughts they have expressed Which ring in my ears I have suckled at your breasts Not nearly as a babe Yet it is the aroma of your flesh which haunts me in my reverie And the sound of your sweet sighs which fills my memories
To taste of the flesh is a simple thing Too easily exalted Too frequently abused To taste of the soul is a wondrous thing Too seldom found Too seldom used
It is not just your eyes I see But the depth which lies behind them It is not merely your lips I crave But the ideas which they convey These. remain with me during the days And calm my evenings That I may lie With images of you to lull me Softly as I drift to sleep
Your smile floats before me even now Your laugh softly fills my mind And I crave your presence Even as its memory fills me with joy
I have found in you a person worth cherishing A woman whose value I deem boundless And whose soul I have already partaken of I ask for little more Than to entrust my desires My hopes and dreams With one As sharing As giving As you
I can write a poem I can pen some verse I can make it florid I can do it terse I can be profane I can wax profound Or lay it on real thick And sling it by the pound I’ll take a slice of paper Slather on some ink Arrange the words just so And present them . . . Whaddya think?
Since my retirement from Pratt & Whitney Rocketdyne in 2010, I have spent quite a bit of energy on developing work as a social media marketer for small business, a business manager for an AI software development firm, and as an editor/proofreader for a number of business books and a couple of novels, as well as a two-year return engagement at Rocketdyne from 2015 to 2017.
I have decided to stop actively pursuing business in these fields and am now positioning myself to be a writer. I have done quite a bit of writing over the years, but I’ve never really attempted to make any money at it; at least not specifically. I’m starting out with a couple of memoirs and, currently, I’m studying the craft, creating a detailed outline and timeline, and honing my skills as a storyteller. Pretty sure I’ll be writing some fiction as well.
The views expressed herein are those of the author. Any opinions regarding the value or worth of particular business processes, tools, or procedures, whether at his former place of employment, at a current client's enterprise, or in general, are his responsibility alone.