An Innocent Deflection

Composed 10/15/16
Description: A journalistic ramble today, inspired by life and today’s Daily Prompt: Subdued.

Nearly two years at this job and I’ve never
Done this
Not for anyone and I’m sure
My opposite has never done it, would
Never do it but that’s another story
The fact is I know you’re behind
But I have things to do yet
I do it perhaps
I’m just a doormat but
A steaming one

The end of the day rolls around you
Take time to pop your head in the door
Thank you I appreciate it so much
And I can say nothing but
No problem
Because that feels good and now
I’m glad I did it for you
I knew I liked you


An Evening (in three parts)

Composed 4/4/16
Description: A belated entry for day 3 of NaPoWriMo. Today, a true and tragic tale…

I. Frustration

It starts with nail art
An oft fatal enterprise with
A high polish casualty rate

Despite recent failures I dive for
Denial and blame
Of brand name
Donning prestigious, new weaponry I
Strike again

Sadly similar failures occur
Polish too light means too many coats and
Social duties call and
A swift hand through jacket sleeve brings
Misery, catastrophic destruction

With minutes to spare I
Jump into high light I make
Hasty adjustments
I plunge into rumored territory and dunk
My hands in ice cold water to speed the dry
Surprisingly that
That’s legit

But bumps and a few tacky nails mean
I venture out in caution and insecurity
By the time I sit with food on my plate
Dryness has come
Danger has ceased
Yet that
Is only the beginning

II. Respite

A small time of calm before the storm
Then back I venture to my homeland to
Partake in needed productivity
Should be a swift polish, a print
Such naivety

My computer fails to register
The importance of final papers
Or my printer
Even the main PC fails me

Technological father figure to the rescue!
He connects, shows me the craft
My computer still denies however
The fatherboard finds our sacrifice worthy
A paper printed
An evening of success?

III. Blood

A wad of blood, sweat, and tears in my palm
I reach for a reliable friend
The stapler

He gags at the treat
Makes half-hearted chomps and spits
Out his metal teeth
I blame a lacking grip

But alas!
A repeated failure despite determination
And what’s this!
A red smuge blurs the cover page
With a mocking boldness
Red icing!

Bloodied, ruined
I run back to the main computer for a reprint
This occurs
I return to my desk
A binder clip in hand
As I make the motion
How did this happen? I’ve not touched a thing!

Grumbly now I
Meekly return
Request further use of my father’s technology
But the printer has tired of my shenanigans
It blocks the signal

I work the craft of connectivity
Two times
My father is bothered again and tries
Power button off and on

Minutes and minutes of
Tense frustration
Lead to final relief
It is finished

I return to the room of high lights
As a final deed to make my evening seem
I polish up my polish
Use my new cheat code
And notice red on my face
I’m bleeding!
Why am I bleeding?
Wait no
Cake frosting

I suspect ghosts
Or demons


Composed 3/28/16
Description: I (tried to) paint my nails today. For the Daily Prompt: Frivolous.

Hours pass by in focused activity
In an activity that should pass in minutes
Intensity about aesthetic and quality demands
Experimentation then
Objective horror

Swift eraser proceeds though
Stubbornness is by definition unyielding
A compromising course of action is reached
Brief victory achieved despite
Intermittent frustration and exasperation

Hours again pass in caution to not undo the deed
Indeed, this very piece is constructed with tedious care and restraint
For the mission of productivity?
Alas no
Simply beauty

Picking Roses

Composed 3/24/15
Description: A common frustration.

Some pluck time like frozen roses
To set that night at the dinner table
Some prized, some poisoned
Admired, analyzed, later addressed
Preserved or left to die
I wish I could remember to
Stop and take the time
To pluck or rose or lily
Instead of rushing by
Because the table seems so empty
When I come home at night
Like I’ve not lived the whole day
It’s numb, it’s


Composed 1/19/15
Description: Ataraxy: a state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety (

I actually wrote this and then, an hour or so later, I found this word. It described the feeling I was searching for so perfectly I made it the title.

Your intention is well meant I know
But it’s mixed with some obligation
Meanwhile I am consumed in my own world
With little interest to disengage
In fact
Only anger and frustration consume my heart
At your kindness
For it is kindness
You are my friend
And I do not wish to offend
But I cannot leave this place

I spend so many hours in your company
Have I not earned a day alone
Without the threat of controversy
I just wish for


Composed 4/18/14
Description: (Day 18 of NaPoWriMo) While I had a lovely day, I regret it being so busy, because here I am stuffing what I consider a very important poem into the last hour of the day. However, I think it turned out well regardless.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when people think you aren’t a (good) writer, because you are not a writing/English major. Have a grammar question? Oh!  Consult the English major! Want someone to read your story? Ask the English major!

This is SERIOUSLY annoying to me, a non-English major writer. It’s just so shocking to me how differently people can perceive you simply because you chose to major in some other thing. People think of our (potential) occupations as such a huge part of our identity.  I could have easily majored in English or writing; I just chose not to. However, if I did, people would look at me (and my writing) completely differently. They would see writing as such a larger part of my personality. But, since I don’t, people don’t think to include me in many writing-related activites or don’t respect my thoughts about it as much… and, thus, the poem.

I force my smile as
Your voice rises in passion!
And your lips gush
Well-crafted lines to my friends
And my strangers
About your poetic musings
Your inspirations
Your opinions on
Yes, this is poetry
And no, people don’t do this enough

But your silence
To me is louder
Because you speak so grandly
To the naïve
Those doe-eyed admirers who squeal
At your honey words
And bitter stop rhythm and rhymes
But not to me
You say no words to a fellow in arms

I did not choose to
Major in my love
But alas
No one majors in breathing
In the beating of their heart
And education can breathe life
As well as it can destroy passion, ingenuity
And create routine

That does not mean I
Am not a part of you
That I am not worthy of conversation or praise
I bleed out on paper
Same as you
Executing my lines in different ways
And no
I do not advertise
The value of my black and white trade
But that doesn’t mean I don’t love
The words that fill my head each day

So don’t pretend I’m below you
That I have no interest in the depths of poetic
Structure and thought
That because I don’t shout it out to the heavens
Only to paper
That I don’t know how to write
That I can’t help you in your
Artistic endeavors

So here I am so you can’t deny
I told you of my love
Here is my one shout! My advertisement!
I write poetry
Isn’t that enough?

Stupid Phone

Composed 4/10/14
Description: (Day 10 of NaPoWriMo) “I have to write a poem today,” I tell my friend. “Give me a topic.” She shakes her phone in her hands (it’s been malfunctioning all day). “Stupid phone,” she replies.

Childish rhyme when silence pursues
Keeping quiet when its track I lose
Changing AM, PM too
(Missed a test and now I’m screwed)
Damn it
Stupid phone

Buzzes so hard it crashes down
Right off the desk in front of a crowd
Signal lost when I’m lost downtown
(And Lord knows there aren’t payphones around)
Damn it
Stupid phone

Battery flickers when I need
To send a message of urgency
And when it sends then I see
I told my friend I just bought pee
Damn it
Stupid phone


Composed 4/‎‎22/11
Description: One of my old favorites, probably because of its subject matter, which is still as relevant today as it was two years ago (and will undoubtedly remain relevant for awhile longer).

How do you know?
A look?
A smile?
Or is one only sure
After talking awhile?

Is it a physical chemistry?
Mental stimulation?
How he acts in
Various situations?

Is it a mathematical mix;
A list of compatible traits?
Simply liking the same things?
Enjoyable dates?

I’m starting to think
I’ll never know
Or maybe I just need
To develop, grow
Learn what I want
Or what I need
A man who can laugh
Who has goals to succeed
A man with intelligence
And humility
A passion for life
And eventually me

Honesty’s important
As is commitment and trust
But how will I know he has this,
Or even tell love from lust?

Can you ever know?
Or do we just guess?
Ah! Love!
It’s too much stress.