Rocky’s Lament

Mom called me in from the yard.
She called me “Chihuahua.”
I think she forgot my name.
How did this happen?

I was told my Grandma
Called dogs by their color.
She never remembered names.
I never met her, but
I know she loved dogs.

Mom loves dogs.
She’s forgetting names.
I wonder if Mom will
Start watching stories?

Homework

I took accounting in college.
It was forty years ago.
Twice as long as Sgt. Pepper.
My knowledge has been fully depreciated.
(At least I remember some terms.)

Now, I have to take it again.
It is as brutal as I recalled.
Perhaps even more brutal,
Because the world discovered QuickBooks,
And our instructor has not.

I love accounting!
Said no one ever.
Well, except for
Some college friends,
Who are all now CPAs.

Perhaps CPA is a warning label,
Not a prestigious title.
People to avoid at parties.
Just sayin’.
(No offense to any CPAs.)

I remembered my CPA friends this week.
They seemed so normal back then.
This is to their credit.
Or perhaps to their debit.
Who the hell knows?

Moving

I’m moving to Bangalore.
If not India, then Singapore.
Somewhere far away from here.
Approximately twelve hours away.

Then, I can sleep during the day.
I can be awake all damn night.
It’s just over there,
I’ll be in sync with everyone else.

I need a nap.

Blocked

I can’t find an idea.
There are nonrights or wrongs.
My mind is fully empty,
Except for 80’s songs.

If I can’t find the words,
Maybe I’ll use emojis instead.
Wow. I have no poetry at all,
And emojis hurt my head.

So, this time tomorrow,
I will take my pen in hand.
I’m sure I will write something.
And then will have it panned.

Starvation Diet, Chihuahua-Style

Rocky

Rocky! It’s time to eat! 
I can’t come in right now.
I think I heard a cow.
Or maybe a cat.
Anyhoo, I have to patrol.

ROCKY! It’s dinner time!
Please just let me be.
I’m guarding you, you see.
There is something lurking.
I must kill or maim it.
Anyhoo, I’ll be in later.

ROCKY! I’M GIVING KATIE YOUR FOOD!
I’m sure you would be upset.
If a burglar stole your pet.
So, I’m running all around.
Makes me less of a target.
Anyhoo, I’m working on my steps.

ROCKFORD. NOW. OR I KILL YOU.
The yard is cleared at last.
The dangers all are past.
Is there any food around here?
I’m starving.
Why don’t we eat on time?

Land Cruise

Ships are heading back to Europe.
We try to go along for the ride,
With the blue ocean outside.
Transatlantic cruises.
Big fun for everyone.

Sunday, we drove down to Ferris.
It’s a pleasant little drive,
Heading down I-45.
Dairy Queens and Mexican food.
Big fun for everyone.

It’s not exactly a cruise.
It was a jaunt, so to speak.
We weren’t gone a week,
We were home to feed the dogs.
Still, big fun.

Well, miniature big fun.
I need some Vitamin Sea.

Parenthood

Can someone hold my child?
I am so completely enraged,
I probably should not
Be near him currently.

There is a wide, black trail of
Instant Coffee, running from
My kitchen to the bedroom.
Across my new white carpet.

My husband said he calls it,
“The Trail of Tears.”
Someone should hold him, too.
In case this becomes a rampage.

Deep breaths.
Deep, cleansing breaths.
Maybe a glass of Chardonnay.
It’s better now. Somewhat.

It’s just a very messy line.
It will all come out in the wash.
It’s not really grounds for murder.
It’s not even grounds for divorce.

Grounds.
He he he he.
I crack me up.
I better start cleaning.

Father Long Words

When I was back in college,
I took six long hours of Speech.
One of my classmates loved it,
It was preparing him to preach.

He joined the Seminary.
They gave him room and board.
He learned the secret handshake.
He was consecrated to the Lord.

He loved preaching his homilies.
He never noticed the time go by.
His parishioners would take notice.
His sermons made them cry.

It’s not that they weren’t moving,
Or his chosen words weren’t very strong.
It wasn’t even his repeated subjects.
It’s just that they were bloody long.

They called him “Father Long Words”,
But only behind his back.
They were plotting how to sneak out,
To try and find a snack.

Finally, someone called the Bishop.
They said, “He speaks too long.”
The Bishop said, “The Spirit is within him.”
The Bishop said, “Just play along.”

It took months of complaining.
But the Bishop finally heard.
He came to the Church one Sunday.
Then he said, “That is absurd.”

The Bishop heard Father Long Words,
He dozed off about half-way through.
So, he answered the cries of his people,
After snoring loudly from his pew.

The Bishop had him transferred.
Father Long Words moved around.
He would preach in a different parish,
Until that flock drove him out of town.

Everywhere he preached,
The people listened to him at first.
They listened and they listened,
Until their bladders almost burst.

The Church finally blamed Americans,
For not appreciating the Word.
Father Long Words escaped to Ecuador,
Where they knew he would be heard.

Down in Quito, Father Long Words
Entered the famous Guinness book.
He preached two hundred thirty-seven minutes,
Because that’s just how long it took.

The week after the World’s Record,
The Pope flew in from Rome.
The Church was overflowing.
No parishioners dared stay home.

Father Long Words preached two hours.
He paused for breath, and started further.
That’s when the Pope jumped up and shot him.
The police have called it a Mass murder.

(Bless me, Father, for I have sinned with this poem.)

Goodbye

It’s been a long month,
But only thirty days.
The challenge is over,
We go our separate ways.

As we go into May,
Random thoughts will fly by.
I’ll be writing by chance,
Not because I will try.

Thirty poems is not much,
Not even a book.
Unless you self-publish,
For a Kindle or Nook.