if left paren i must fill up this space
with shop talk right paren left curly brace

before i get the conversation rollin'
i'll need a cup of Java semicolon

at least they have a t1 in this place
semicolon space right curly brace

Restless in a big armchair
I spend the hours, as I stare
At every anxious, grieving face
Within the 50-minute space
I've heard it all--the wife who cheats
With Internet guys whom she meets
The secret incest, crooked deals,
The husband dressed in bra and heels
The anxious who are prone to panic
The wired who are likely manic
Many of them are depressed
Can hardly shower and get dressed
I've done this many years, and yet
Their stories I just can't forget
When I get home I have one mission:
Avoid Lifetime television

My job's to be the meanest mom alive.
Why else would I so willingly deprive
my daughters of--ahem--"socialization"?
So sad. In home-directed education,
they have to miss the school bus, though they do
enjoy the double-decker at the zoo.
Alas, the asphalt schoolyard's out of reach;
my daughters chase their friends around the beach
while other kids breathe chemicals and mold
in "temporary" classrooms decades old,
which take up space where playgrounds used to be
before schools canceled recess and P.E.
My kids think it's okay to stay unique,
instead of fearing epithets like "geek".
You see, I so deprive my progeny!
I keep them out of school! Shame, shame on me!

[Edited to conserve space and face]


[This message has been edited by Julie Stoner (edited November 26, 2004).]

I came to this a little late, but had a fun few minutes anyway!


This is my day job, as far as I can see
people are tapping furiously
or staring at screens with intense concentration,
living in crowded isolation.
But, to be truthful, I can’t see so far,
infrequent greetings tell me who they are
The shoulder height barriers, the pig-pens I call them
cut off the contact, the milk from our sow. When
I reach the office, I rarely see
the people tapping furiously.
The tops of their heads and whizzing fingers
A morning greeting sometimes lingers
in the air, as I walk by
and duck into my own pig-sty.


Rachel

Morons tail my tanker truck, they climb right up my ass.
They want to smell the deadly scent of forty tons of gas?

False imprisonment and overkill:
Monarchs wedged behind a Big Rig's grille.

Bravo, Tony.

Best,
Greg

Graywyvern, I envy you!


[This message has been edited by diprinzio (edited August 10, 2003).]

I’m the official boo boo kisser,
Four leaf clover finder, and well wisher.
My breasts are in a funny place
to my waist they seem to race.
And the stretch marks haven’t faded
even though the milk’s evaporated.
I’ve changed a thousand diapers, true
and dealt with so much stinky pooh
I no longer smell my own arm pits.
AND I’ve mastered the search for lice and nits.
Oh these talents ought to be incorporated
the president himself should instate it:
a million dollars for every mom!
Instead of nuclear, we’ll drop diaper bombs!


[This message has been edited by Melalope (edited August 13, 2003).]

One couplet says it all:

Living on the line of sanity, I write not for bows
But to put sense and order into the head of cows.

Tough job, eh?
Cheers!



------------------
Nevine Al Seidi

Just bumping this up. Lots of new (and old) members haven't yet introduced themselves. Consider yourselves invited to do so!

Julie Stoner

"Your day job--don't quit." He
said, "Not to write this kind of ditty."

[This message has been edited by Edmund Conti (edited November 27, 2004).]

What If Dr. Seuss Wrote My Resume

I’m a Parent with a Student whom I homeschool at my house,
and a Parent of a Graduate from College. For my Spouse,
I contribute all my talent as Computer Specialist.
In the meantime, I’ll admit that I’m a Bibliophilist.

As a Military Veteran I served my Country well;
it’s where I learned Computereeze, but now I do Excel.
To my credit, what I learned on in the Coast Guard was a Wang,
a simple word processor, that for then, was quite the thang.

I’ve also worked with Doctors, Nurses, Therapists and Patients,
staffing for a Home Care Agency. Now my relations
all call me up and ask me to explain their Doctor’s orders,
looking for some information on their new disorders.

I volunteered at schools and churches, sports associations--
at everything, exceeding my lone body’s limitations.
So now I’m down to helping family and my neighbors. Life
has proved to be rewarding as a Poet, Mom, and Wife.




[This message has been edited by ChristyElizabeth (edited November 28, 2004).]