Poetry

Grandfather's Ghost

The ghost of my grandfather

Standing behind me,

Watching over my left shoulder

As I write.

"BUT," he is saying,

"It can't be verse,

It's far too terse;

There is no timing

and damn little rhyming!"

"Things have changed,"

say I.

"Rhyming no longer

Serves the muse

Of poetry."

It mostly serves

The new muse of

Ugliness against people.

Now he is confused

and not a little bemused,

He looks kind of sheepish.

The feeling I get is creepish.

"We wouldn’t have had this in my day,

There is just no way.

This stuff you call rap

Is just so much pap."

Still I sit at the keyboard,

Wondering,

Pondering,

Thinking about the old man

Whose curse I carry,

How would he react to

The world today, if at all.

Would he just go on his

Merry way, slopping the hogs,

Feeding the chickens,

As if no world existed,

Except his.

In Their Heads

In her head, no longer a blank,

She thought,

"What am I looking for?"

The mirage floated at the edge

Of her consciousness,

Reality expanded to reveal

An inverted water glass,

Reflecting the subdued lighting of the room;

Instead of the iridescent diamond of her mind.

In his head,

Not a tabula rasa, he thought,

"What am I looking for?"

Vision focused on the peripheral blur --

Flashing through the hallway,

Dust balls rolling like tumbleweeds;

Like many of his ideas, gathering filaments

And threads from various rugs

Along the way.

Focus widens, then contracts;

To the infinitesimal,

Creating the illusion of immenseness.

Spaces loom where there were none,

Wave-like structures undulate

In the background.

Pulling back, undulations

Coagulate into the solid color

Of the table cloth.

A BORED OF EDUCATION SUMMER INSERVICE

I.

The speaker reads comments from cards,

Punctuating his thoughts with Mm, and Uh huh.

The sleeper in the corner props

Himself up, trying not to

Nod into the table or fall

Backwards to the floor, mouth gaping---uh huh.

Ideas open some minds, while

Slamming others shut,

Like a back porch screen door on a taut spring---mm.

Others try to catch up on work

That should have been done days ago,

Procrastination the order of the year---uh huh.

Still others attempt to contribute, showing

Interest, real or feigned, to

Ensure they have jobs in the fall---mm.

Reality of responses....

Ignorance abounds, and they have

Few scruples about showing it---uh huh.

II.

"What happens is a matter of perception..."

"We're not dealing with trivial issues here..."

"The question we want to formulate is..."

"Getting to integrated skills--uh huh."

"There's a new movement, a new wave,

But the results are not improving,

And that is what I see from my

Limited national perspective---mm."

Participants and presenter 

Droning on with little or no

Connection to the issue at hand,

As if they are in love with the sound

Of their own voices---uh huh.

Not even with what they are

Saying, but tonal qualities, auditory

Vibrations attacking nerve endings,

Attached to pleasure centers

That require escalating levels of stimulation---mm.

Reading ulterior motives in what others

Say or do, playing politics, thinking they are

In the game, not knowing the rules, or

Writing their own---uh huh.

Actually, action, or inaction, speaks louder than anything

They spout into the already hot, humid air---mm.

III.

"We are in the process of being connected,

One final comment before we move on--uh huh."

"Can we communicate in a way that

Is meaningful to them---mm."

"If you don t have good motivation,

Forget it--uh huh."

"Purposes seem perceptible...."

To disrupt the proceedings with

Private agendas that

Prolong exposure in the heat

And to the disinterested parties---mm.

"At your leisure...," no leisure here,

Just sweat streaming down

Uncomfortable bodies, too big, or old,

Or bored, for sitting for extended

Periods of time---uh huh.

"Do you follow, using the word loosely,

Not in a technical sense...," nothing

In the technical sense. Boiling it all down,

Verbosity, but not in the technical sense---mm.

Slipping of the track, and then

Sliding into the next item on the agenda,

Then, skidding back into the miasma of perspiration

And, unintelligible ideas---mm.