Poem #30 - Last Day of Poetry Month

Poetry month falls in April,
So I had decided to perform the drill,
Of attempting thirty poems in total to write,
Even if it would take me all night.

Now we're on the thirteeth one,
And I must say,
For the most part it was quite fun.

So this is the last poem for this '09 April month,
Now no longer rhymed words
Do I need to hunt.

Please note,
I may continue to write poems down the road,
But only if I am in a rhyming mode.

In the meantime,
I shall revert to a regular blog update,
Which shall certainly be easier
To communicate,
At any rate.

The End

Poem #29 - Internet Connection

Does your Internet connection ever go dead?
I can't tell you how many times it has happened to me,
It's been so often,
I am starting to see red.

Just when I am about to send an email,
It is without fail,
That the connection is lost,
Be it during sunshine
Or during frost.

It is especially true
When I am trying to load a streaming video,
Or watch online a favorite TV show.

I try to be patient and cool,
By reconnecting manually,
But, seriously,
Why is it so unrealiable,
This technological tool?

The End

Poem #28 - "The Storm"

The painting in the museum hanged,
A prior time,
To keep it up, a nail into the wall had been banged.

Now it is viewable by all visitors,

Young and old
Who stream in each day,

Through the glass doors.

The painting is from the 19th century,
Of a lad and a girl running together,
To protect themselves
From the start of the drizzling rainy weather.

Pierre-Auguste Cot,

The artist,
Not an emotion or a section missed,
Utilized oil paint on canvas,
To create this art work of class.

"The Storm" is the name of this piece of art,
Which captures the beauty of nature
And of the heart.

The End

Note: The rights of this photograph belong to The Metropolitan Museum of Art. I do not own it....unfortunately.

Poem #27 - Elephant Dung Paper

Many environmentally-friendly products in the market are being sold,

As people are being educated and told,

That one is protecting one's surroundings,
By purchasing such items and things.

One item that caught my eye,

Was an ad of elephant dung paper,

Which was odorless,

And had no vapor.

The paper appeared like ordinary recycled material,

And the stationery design was quite attractive,

Quite acceptable for a gift to give.

I am including a picture of the banner,

Which explains what one can get

It is also quite pretty,

With the two elephants and the sunset.

The End

Poem #26 - Chocolate Discovery

I love chocolate,
Be it Godiva, Ritter Sport, Lindt, Ferrerro Rocher or Ghirardelli,
I don't need to view their ads on the telly,
To be convinced that they are just delightful
To my taste buds and my belly.

My preference is chocolate of the dark make,
Over 60% cocoa,
That is my threshold
For the take.

The use of very little sugar in the chocolate bar,
Will carry the quality rating very far,
Especially if it is used instead of high fructose corn syrup,
To be a minor ingredient of sweetness,
So that the chocolate won't be judged on anything less.

While most of the above mentioned brands are European,
Today I learned that Ghirardelli is actually Californian,
I was impressed,
For at first I thought it was of Italian make,
Until I studied the package intently so,
And noticed it was founded in 1852 in San Francisco.

So, kudos to this American brand,
Which tastes so good,
I just had to take a stand,
And this poem I had to write,
Before I said
Have a good night.

The End

Poem #25 - Hidden Scar

From afar,
One cannot tell he has a scar.

But if one is within proximity,
One can most certainly see,
The outline of the scar.

It is hard to believe,
But it hadn't stopped bleeding for a week,
When the blade contact with the skin made,
And his consciousness had begun to fade.

Exactly fourteen stitches he had been given,
On his left cheeck,
So that the blood outflow away could be driven.

If one were to stare at the scar long enough,
One would realize that he had been so very tough,
If one were to imagine the pain,
That could drive anyone completely insane.
The sympathetic may begin to weep.
As the gash still looks so real and deep.

But now a mask he wears,
So that people won't know,
Of the pain he still bears.

In hiding is now his injury,
But not his anger and his fury,
On the person who did this to him,
But now was not the time to be grim.
For he was going to visit the woman he loved very much,
And today was the day,
He would tell her so as much.

The End

Poem #24 - The Earthquake

The earthquake occurred at 2am,
Causing the houses to shake,
Causing the people to awake,
But in House 1,
The crystal chandelier remained hanging from the ceiling.
As the people stood wondering how they would be dealing,
With the possible outside damage,
Or the possible massive carnage.

With hesitation they opened their doors,
And peaked out onto the street floors.
A single tree had tumbled,
As the earth had a few minutes ago rumbled.
This the only incident it became,
And the people decided to plant a tree on the day same,
To make their streets look as before,
When they each morning opened their front door.

The End

Poem #23 - Earth Day was Yesterday

Earth Day falls on the 22nd of April each year,
For people to work on the wish,
That the land, air and seas will be pollution clear.

It is on this day when people show their appreciation,
As well as their revelation,
Of the importance of maintaining the environment,
And to teach the ways of becoming more energy efficient.

Special projects are also performed,
Such as a day of planting flowers and trees,
So that when summer comes,
We get visits from the honey bees.

Recycling is encouraged as well,
So spread the word and to everyone tell,
That isn't it better to live in a place,
That is truly a clean space?

The End

Poem #22 - A Midnight Flight

The vampire lad held tightly the waist of the mortal girl,
As up in the air they flew,
It was a thrill the girl never before knew.

Close they flew to the moon,
It was the perfect setting,
For it would strike midnight soon.

Anyone watching from below,
Would not have understood this strange glow,
That the moon was emitting with the two little specks of shadow,
Something not heard of,
Not even centuries ago.

The vampire lad and mortal girl suddenly heard piano sounds,
Making the orbit rounds.
Was this a figment of their imagination?
Perhaps just a side-effect of their elation?
Or did the sound come from the stars,
Hovering not too far away from Mars?

The End

Poem #21 - Favorite Toy

My favorite toy as a child was a doll,
Which I received when I was very small.
I believe my age was five,
When this gift in my arms did arrive,
Given to me around Christmas time by my aunt,
I felt as if I had received a wonderful grant.

The doll was made of soft cotton material,
In a red-colored dress,
As if ready to star in her own serial.
Her ragged appearance was quite visible,
But by no means abysmal.

As every child likes to do,
I named my doll too.
She was christened Lisa,
A German name,
For this little non-breathing dame.

One day,
Tired of her hairstyle I grew,
And out a pair of scissors flew,
Snip, Snip,
Her hair became lesser,
And after viewing my artwork,
I realized I better not become a hairdresser.

Many years later,
Different toys came and went,
But not one of them made
A sentimental dent,
So deep,
As that special doll I had many years ago
Been given to keep.

The End

Poem #20 - Rain Showers

This morning when I woke up,
Out the window I gazed,
And was a bit fazed,
By the darkness of the day,
By the lack of appearance
Of a single sun ray.

The skies were open,
And rain came pouring down in an abundant manner,
Not a single Blimp
Would have been able fly by with a banner.

Birds were hiding in the trees and under rooftops,
Hoping that the rain
Would trickle down to just a few drops.

Pedestrians rushed to their destination,
Holding on to their umbrellas with difficult control,
As the wind blew on with a heavy roll.

Such was the start of a Monday,
Rainy, dark and gray.

The End

Poem #19 - Sitting Outdoors in a Café

Outdoors in a café was the place,
To enjoy the sun gently caressing the face,
Where consumed was a sandwich and a cup of coffee
The first cold,
And the second piping hot
To the hundredth degree.

The company was one of enjoyment,
That was to everyone quite evident.
The atmosphere created a dreamy state,
As the remaining diners began to fade,
And those at the main table relished
What they ate.

The End

Poem #18 - His Reflection on Life

No matter how much his determination and drive,
He wondered if the huge amount of blood loss
Would allow him to survive.

It was time to reflect on his past deeds,
On who he had destroyed,
On whose dreams he had foiled.

Had he led a good life?
Had he been good to his wife?

Probably not,
But perhaps his heart would not rot,
In hell,
But now was not the time to dwell.

His life was drifting away,
Today was indeed on earth his last day.

The End

Poem #17 - The Cycle of Laundry

Doing laundry is a bore,
I really don't enjoy this chore.
But it is something that must be done,
Even when truly it is no fun.

So here I am again,
Putting clothes into the machine,
So that in 34 minutes,
They are fresh and clean.

One load for "whites" with a cycle for hot,
The second load for "color",
Which belongs into the warm lot.

When the first step is complete,
Next,
The clothes from water need to deplete,
So in they go to the dryer,
Into the cycle,
As hot as fire.

Depending on the size load,
Depending on the dryer mode,
Another 45 minutes to pass,
It seems to take so much longer,
Than sitting in Math class.

This cycle repeats itself week after week,
And even though the process is so bleak,
It would be too much of a dream-like fare,
For the clothes that I am to wear,
Would just clean themselves
But perhaps it would work,
With the help of elves.

The End

Poem #16 - Childhood Song

"These are a few of my favorite things,"
A smile to my face this song brings,
As it has a beautiful melody,
The lyrics too are harmonious and free.
I so enjoyed it in my childhood,
Giving a pleasant reminder of all that is good.
Now when I hear it once more,
It brings back memories,
Of this song being unique to the core.

The End

Poem #15 - Timepiece

Even though there is some dispute in the air,
Regarding who invented the first watch,
Giving Peter Henlein at least some credit would only be fair.

Peter Henlein came from a city in Germany,
Back in the sixteenth century,
Where he worked day and night,
Hoping to get it right,
On the first portable timepiece.

Around 1508,
The "Taschenuhr" was complete,
Which allowed people to know the time,
No matter where they did have a seat.

Be it on a couch or on a horse,
It was now much easier to tell,
Without having to dwell
How much time did pass.

Parents could monitor more easily their children's curfews,
While bosses had of their employees better views,
On who put in their load,
On who late in rode.

Yes, this timepiece is still used today,
In fact it is a necessity,
That is all I have for now to say.

The End

Poem #14 - Waiting for the Elevator

I am waiting for the elevator to come,
Trying to be patient and then some.
Why is it taking so long,
I contemplate,
Surely if it does not come in the next two minutes,
I will be very late.

I look up at the flashing numbered light,
I sigh out loud,
Is this going to take all night?

This movable transporter is stuck at floor number twenty-seven,
Why so long? I ask,
Is that the door leading into the gates of heaven?

At my watch I impatiently glance,
Silently pleading with time to stop,
Please do,
I'll even start to dance.
Unfortunately, the watch was synchronized to run on time real,
So I can't force it to cooperate and pretend it did fail.

I look up once more,
On twenty-seven it is stuck still,
I can't force it to come down with my mental will.
So I do what anyone would do,
I take the stairs uphill,
And by the time I reach my floor,
I have had my exercise fill.

The End

Poem #13 - Lemon Juice is no Ruse

Lemon juice has become a part of my diet daily,
Do not ask me, "What? Really?"
It can indeed be used for a variety of edibles,
And I must say it provides quite a few thrills.

It goes well with salads - especially Greek,
It adds that extra flavor,
It's what I really seek.

It also goes well with french fries,
Seriously,
I am not telling you any lies.

Lemon juice mixed with club soda tastes wonderful,
Especially when adding ice cubes,
So that it is nice and cool.

You could even mix it with hot sauce and vinegraitte,
So why don't you experiment and see what you get,
But a perfect new type of dressing,
It really could be considered a blessing.

The End

Poem #12 - Life as an Eagle

Endurance is an eagle trait,
Even when life is one of aggravate.

In my next rebirth,
If as a bird I had to live,
I surely would be happy to give
This type of life a shot.

My preference would be to be an eagle,
So that I may fly high and far,
Which is so much easier
Than traveling by car.

From hunters I would distance keep,
So that I would not have a tortured sleep,
Of potentially being shot to dead,
Somewhere not far from my head.

As an eagle,
I would travel to far places,
And see new faces.
To Europe, Africa and Asia I would go,
To and fro,
Without the hassle of lugging a bag,
Without the exhaustion of feeling like a rag.

No more waiting on a long line,
To board a plane,
And be forced to eat the nasty dine.

No more paying to stay in a hotel,
No more money out to shell.

Free to travel on top of a train,
If I decide to visit domestically,
From Chicago to Maine.

Yes, life as an eagle could be fun,
As I could fly as far as I can
Near the sun,
Without it burning me.
I can choose,
For I am free.

The End

Poem #11 - The Dahlia

Yesterday I purchased a Dahlia in red,
"It is truly a beauty,"
I said.
The Dahlia came in a little brown flower pot,
It would need sunlight,
But not too hot.

From Mexico the Dahlia originated,
But to the US this one was fated,
To be in my company,
To observe the outside from a certain degree.

The Dahlia replaced the two roses,*
Who unfortunately did not have a long life span,
But I would one day get a couple again,
If I can.

* poem about the Two Roses written on April 1 2009 (see blog).

Poem #10 - A Fairytale Train Ride

Once upon a time,
There lived a girl in the city,
She was smart and kind of witty.

Once upon a time,
There lived a boy in another part of the city,
He was handsome and also kind of witty.
He would often stare at the moon,
Hoping that one day,
He would meet a girl,
Who he could make swoon.

So one day,
When outside it was pouring rain,
both the boy and girl were traveling
On an express train.
The girl had her head buried in a book,
While the boy sat next to her,
Trying to give the title a look.

When he finally saw it,
He recognized the book,
And all control it took,
To keep from going into a laughing fit,
For she was reading a certain type of supernatural lit.

The girl was holding "Breaking Dawn",
She was so engrossed,
She was so lost,
For fantasy she was yearning,
The irony was so burning,
As right next to her,
Was sitting a vampire lad,
It was the truth,
There was nothing mad.

"Good book,"
The boy finally said,
As the girl blushed a pretty shade of red.

"I have read it," the boy did admit,
The girl's eyebrows went into a knit,
But then her face lit up,
As the boy offered her a cup,
Of herbal tea,
Which she took with glee.
He then offered her some chewing gum,
Which had just a touch of rum.
With content the girl chewed,
As she took a sip of tea,
Just brewed.

As the boy and girl began to chat during the train ride,
She saw of him a wonderful side.
And very soon,
She started to swoon,
Under his deep gaze,
She felt as if she was in a maze.
She was under his spell,
She felt she heard a wedding bell.

The boy was taken in by her as well,
And he started to dwell,
On the possibilities
Of giving her the keys,
To his soul,
Yes, that would be his goal.
Work it could one day,
He thought,
As suddenly the sun
Popped out with a ray.

The End

Poem #9 - Spring Break

School is out,
The children give a delightful shout.
They are filled with glee,
Finally they are set free.

They run to the playground,
And go on the merry-go-round.
They have time to play games,
And learn the names,
Of new friends,
Before spring break ends.

It is indeed a delight,
One could say allright,
Waking up late,
Without worrying about one's fate.
No concern for tardiness,
Oh how the children shall miss,
When over is spring break,
It is not something to easily shake,
From one's memory,
Of the time when one was
Most happy and free.

The End

Poem #8 - Clear Memory

I woke up this morning,
Just not remembering a thing,
That I had studied for the night before,
What can I say,
Oh no.

Studying is no fun.
I'd rather go on a 3.5 mile run.
But studying one must,
If one were to trust,
That it will to a better life lead,
So the brain must be planted with
The Knowledge of a seed.

So tonight I shall try again,
I shall read another chapter,
Perhaps #10.
Or more realistically,
Just a few pages from there,
Otherwise I will doze off,
Without a care.

The End

Poem #7 - Pepsi - Separated by Glass

A lone bottle of Pepsi remained inside the vending machine,
A man stood staring at it,
Very keen.
He was dying of thirst,
But had to insert $1.30 first,
In order to take care of the dehydration,
In order to not feel lost of imagination.

He checked the pocket of his jacket,
Not a penny, not a nickel, not a dime,
Oh what a racket.
He cursed under his breath,
But then thought,
Why should I feel this regret?

He reached for a chair,
And lifted it up in the air.
He banged the chair against the glass,
Which shattered into a thousand pieces,
Not exactly done by someone with class.

The man stuck his hand into the opening,
As the alarm made a loud ring.
He smiled when with the bottle he made contact.
His thirst would finally be quenched,
That was a fact.

The End

Poem #6 - My Desk

A desk is meant to be clean for study,
So says a certain somebody,
But I say,
It is great for placing your stationery, CDs and bags of chips,
As well as photographs and different types of dips.
And while it is not like a fridge,
It sure can act as a place of storage.
And when used it needs to be,
Please do not concern thee,
By all means it can be cleared,
So there's nothing to be feared,
By a quick sweep of the hand,
Somewhere indeed the stuff will land.

The End

Poem #5 - Pro-Coffee

Coffee is a beverage,
Which keeps me awake,
Especially when I am tired or bored
And sleep is all I can take.

Coffee feels great in my blood stream,
It peps me up,
And allows me to dream,
Without falling into a slumber deep,
Wihout my eyes falling shut asleep.

My favorite flavors are Colombian and hazelnut,
And when I take a sip,
Made by that coffee maker drip,
I realize that I need it,
And it needs me,
It is so much better than
black, white or green tea.

The Ethiopians invented coffee,
For all the world to see,
A wonderful invention,
Deserving wonderful praise,
As fewer people are walking in a haze.

Yes, I drink two to three cups everyday,
To keep my temperament in control and at bay,
It has become a part of my ritual,
To keep my body filled with this type of fuel.

Some people say,
Caffeine is bad and to stop drinking,
But I say,
"What are you thinking?"

Be it a Starbucks,
Or a Dunkin Donuts,
I am all for coffee shops,
Forever,
Or at least as long as the ticking
of the clock never stops.

The End

Poem #4 - Pugs in the Elevator

The most adorable dog on this planet is a pug.
When I see one,
All I want to do is pick it up and give it a hug.

I got into an elevator today,
At the same time,
As an owner of two pugs without delay.

The pugs looked at me expectantly,
As if I would lecture them on Aristole and other philosophy.
They came to me and sniffed at my shins
As I smiled at them and then asked the owner,
"Are they twins?"

"No", the owner said,
I then blurted out the first thing that came to my head,
"Well, they are cute,"
That was my observation.
He said, "thank you,"
Without hesitation.

My stop came
And I got out,
When suddenly I felt a shame,
Without a doubt,
That my question on whether
The pugs were twins,
Was quite dumb,
I must have had a brain freeze or be quite numb,
For most pugs will look alike indeed,
So really,
Was such a question really a need?

The End

Note: While I really wanted to take a picture of the pugs in the elevator, I didn't have my camera, nor the guts to ask a total stranger to take a picture of his little babies. So, I looked through my Pug calendar, and found one with two pugs on it....the month of February - Valentine's Day theme :)

Poem #3 - Cheerios

Do you wake up every morning,
Eating the same thing for breakfast day after day,
Sticking by your routine,
No matter what people say?

For me it is Cheerios by General Mills,
Yes, I know this yellow-boxed cereal has no frills,
It is not up to the standards of fine European wine,
But for me it will do just fine,
With a bowl of milk,
Either 2% or skim
Enjoying it at the table,
When outside it is still dim..

So don't let anyone force you to eat what you don't want to eat,
Like eggs, and bagels, and some meat.
If you're not a breakfast person,
And prefer to eat light,
By all means stick by your guns and take delight.

The End

Poem #2 - When I am a Midnight Owl

Yes, I am one of those midnight owls,
Not distracted by the wolves outside with their loud howls,
When it comes to staring off into space
Or finishing that ever-suspenseful book in a fast-paced race.

It seems like time passes by so quickly,
When I get engrossed in a
JK Rowling or Jeffery Deaver work of art,
That even if a mouse were to dart,
In front of me,
For all to see.
I think I would ignore it,
And not have a terrible fit,
So focused would I be,
That the otherwise
Paralyzing fear
Would not possess me.

The End

Poem #1 - The Two Roses

A red and cream-colored rose were sitting in a vase by my window,
Enjoying the ray of sunlight,
Which was streaming in from the right.
Nights were cool,
As the window was open,
But the two roses didn't mind,
As they did find,
Refreshing the midnight air,
As it swooped in,
Like a little mare.

The End