Poetry

‘a computer, dad’ and other poems

By: Carl Papa Palmer

a computer, dad

like going to the library
only quicker
we can stay right here

not a TV, a video monitor
to watch what is typed
view search results

it can’t see you, dad
or hear you
no need to whisper

okay, I’ll ask it
rhode island red rooster
enter and presto

see, wasn’t that quick
oh really
a hen

let’s try something else
no need to whisper, dad
tomorrow’s lottery numbers

no, it won’t tell you that
okay I guess you’re right
I’ll turn it off

###

An American Appetite

Eating here stateside is hard to define.
Much more than cheese wedgies, veggies and meat,
or drive-thru fast foods on most any street.
Choosing food from signs while waiting in line,
we “dress to the nines” with waiters and wine,
snack between meal treats of anything sweet,
on a bar stool seat, sit waiting to eat.
It can be fine not to dine by design.
We eat with our hands at hamburger stands.
We graze the buffet while filling our tray.
From various brands, from various lands,
from breakfast soufflé, to evening sorbet,
our waists expand as we “munch on demand.”
Eating “our way” here in the USA.

###

The Puget Sound city of University Place Washington constructed multiple roundabouts at intersections replacing 4-way stops and traffic lights, a concept called Traffic Calming.
Not all were calm.
~ Villanelle

Spout about the Roundabouts

I found myself astound about,
confound about, profound about
these traffic circle roundabouts.

Without a doubt, shouting out
about our renowned roundabouts.
I found myself astound about,

day in day out, frowned about,
bound to pout, wound about
these traffic circle roundabouts.

Bouts of gout have sprouted out
brought about by roundabouts.
I found myself astound about,

spellbound about, touted out,
expounded out, devout about
these traffic circle roundabouts.

As I scouted out my rounded route,
horns sounded out, resounded out.
I found myself astound about
these traffic circle roundabouts.

Categories: Poetry

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