(This is a continuation of the story started in Happy, the previous poem)
She didn’t feel the smile she wore.
Anyone else would be thrilled to double up their stack at the poker table.
Doing so when she knew he had blundered made her cry a bit inside. She wasn’t cut out for this.
But what do you mean it won’t compile?
You told me to put that bracket there!
This makes no sense. Why don’t you do what I told you to?
Except you are doing so and that’s why it doesn’t work?
Sometimes programming really …
Crayola’s yellow box made his eyes go wide.
Realizing all one hundred twenty colors inside were his to work with.
And that thought had him wondering what he should color first.
Yukon forests? Dragons breathing fire on a horde of gold? Something from the Matrix?
Of course, he could let his imagination run wild and do something totally out of the box.
Next moment he was using a heat gun to make a three-dimensional sunset!
Didn’t have any time to recharge, so down went another bottle of caffeine and sugar
Really, sleep was in order, demanded even, but she ignored it
As she had too much to do and way too little time to get it all done
It would have made her cry, except after fifteen years of doing this, this was normal
Now if she had only believed her mother before she had become a mother herself…
Old things had to make way for the new
Pulling back on the lever, the wrecking ball swung and smashed into the wall
Everywhere the ball hit, destruction reigned
Reducing the old structure into historic rubble
And she knew she was good at what she was doing
The crane danced to her choreography, each pirouette punctuated by the boom of connection
Enabling her to place the final period to that building’s story
Quitting the task had never crossed his mind
Unless you counted when he woke up, most of the time during the day, and just before sleeping
Every moment he thought about stopping he somehow found the will to finish it
So when that music in his head announced he was finally done, he let out a sigh of relief
That was short-lived since he realized all he had been doing was just a side…
How do you get better at something?
Almost always the answer is doing
I have been writing a poem a day for the past nine years
Know that sometimes they were bad, but sometimes they were good
Undertake a journey today and read some. The link below is to all 3,287 …
drivebyhaiku.wordpress.com
Been doing all the things
Understand that means lots of naps
Some may say that she’s lazy
You would be wrong. Dreaming is hard work.
That thing you are doing, did you know you can do it better?
It calls for a bit of advice, and I am just the font of wisdom you need.
Perhaps I tell you and you give me a donation in appreciation?
Viewing the political landscape
Organizing the pros and cons
Then trying to make a logical choice
Even then it all comes down to a few slips of paper
Doing my part I added to those slips
Image: newny23rd.files.wordpress.com/2014/10/milo-ballot.jpg
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
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Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
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