poem of the sea

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most spoke
of the low but omnipresent
rumble of water
or its dulcet lap against a hull
but that was not
how he missed the sea
it was the oysters
he could not get enough of
and the clams too
the mussels not so much
he could take or leave the mussels

for First Line Friday

poem

confession is wasted
on a dog
it might make you feel better
but the dog remembers actions
not all those words

for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge

Retired

I’ve led a busy and productive life. Started out as the hot new item. Got a job straightaway. They worked me hard. Articles to write, deadlines to meet. This was at the Daily News. Time passed. I worked seven days a week. Became a grizzled old pro. I was still going strong but they retired me. Not just that; my kind become obsolete. Stored away or melted down or buried in landfills. But the world turns. Now I’m vintage. $700 and my new owner sits on her veranda on mild spring mornings typing her thoughts into a never-ending memoir.

for Friday Fictioneers

Beside You

sitting beside you i am beside myself
a black mark beside my name
which pales beside my past deeds
and is beside the point anyway
what with you beside yourself too
when i sidled up to you
…. and besides
i’m on your side
we’re on the same side
and i’ll meet you on the other side

for Stream of Consciousness Saturday