24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
John Dutton has taught language arts to middle school students in Prince William County for more years than he can remember. Seeing that the life of a teacher is filled with stacks upon stacks of papers waiting to be graded, he prefers spending his time as a classroom scribe writing alongside his students. He enjoys writing poetry and stories because anything is possible when pencil hits paper! In January 2015, John began hosting Spilled Ink. Spilled Ink is an open microphone night celebrating the written word held on the fourth Friday of the month at Jirani Coffeehouse in Old Towne, Manassas. It is open to all writers, authors, poets, or scribblers. All are welcome to read or listen. Please see his website at www.SpilledInkVA.com. John has published three books: "Armadillo Lost Her Pillow," "Argument at the Airport," and "Billy Pug’s Bad Day." All are now on Amazon!
Walkin’
Patsy Cline once said,
“I go out walkin’ after midnight.”
But my parents always warned me,
“Nothing good happens after midnight.”
So, now I am paranoid.
I often think Christopher Walken
will appear out of nowhere,
so suddenly I’m in a movie
where everyone ends up dead
walking the earth forever
as a zombie in search of his next meal.
Nothing good happens
walkin’ after midnight.
Stay home and save yourself.
You never know.
It might just happen.
Baseball: The Surrogate Father
Baseball is a surrogate father.
Every piece of advice
which I expound to my children –
that goes in one ear and out the other –
gets reinforced
every Saturday
for three hours
on the baseball diamond
after the umpire calls,
“Play ball!”
As I stand at the fence
and shovel peanuts into my mouth,
I can hear Terrance Mann whisper,
“The movie got it wrong, you know.”
I nod my head in agreement and reply to no one,
“Don’t need to build it, kids will play anywhere.”
Together we blurt out,
“And the parents will drive them! Fools!”
After the fat lady finally sings,
we stop at 7-Eleven for a Slurpie
before making our way home.
After replaying the game
for mom,
I have a date
washing the kid’s uniforms
knowing I’m never, ever
getting those grass stains
out of the knees.
I just hope my children
remember
both
the joy and frustration
this game has taught them
about life
as they grow old.
Bliss
During the midnight hour,
After the world has gone to sleep,
Just be still and listen.
Listen to your heart.
Let your mind run.
Pick up that pencil.
Let it chase the paper.
Savor each word written.
Feel the euphoria.
One poem finished.
Another begins.
A Tanka
Playing It Safe
During the chaos,
Books were the best medicine.
Neil Gaiman once said,
“Books were safer than other
people anyway.” So true!
A Limerick
Fruit Plate
An orange met a pear on a plate.
It wasn’t a great first date.
Orange stormed home.
Left pear alone.
Pear shouldn’t have mentioned her weight.
Flarf poem [Googled “Imaginary” and “Children”]
Parenting Made Simple
Is it normal for me to have an imaginary child?
Of course! They are the best!
Imaginary kids listen and offer support.
They teach more than just how to play pretend.
Estimates suggest as many as two-thirds of children have imaginary friends.
Reports have shown imaginary friends existing in children up to 12 years old.
How old am I?
Does that really matter?
Yes, I am over fifty!
So what?
7.5 % of those studied reported experiencing an imaginary friend as an adult.
If your imaginary child ever becomes scary, aggressive, or frightening, an evaluation with a mental health professional can give you peace of mind.
I’ll have no need for that.
If my imaginary child ever becomes scary, aggressive, or frightening, I’ll just give them a piece of my mind and to send them to their rooms.
Later, I’ll shout, “Just wait until your imaginary mother gets home! She’ll ground you for a week!”
See, I have it all figured out.
Being a parent is so simple.
A Quinzaine
Think Carefully Before You Answer
Death whispered my name today.
Should I be afraid?
Would you be?
A Nonet
Friday Night
Sitting on the couch drinking a beer.
TV remote clutched in my hand.
Flipping through endless channels.
Wishing for something good.
Wanting a ballgame.
Just nothing’s on.
What the hell?!
More beer.
Burp!
Who Do You Want to Be?
Do you want to be a Forest Ranger,
Or Superman jumping over skyscrapers?
How about a circus clown dressed in periwinkle,
Or a baker specializing in sourdough sweet rolls?
You could pilot a jet through the clouds,
Or become a seamstress who makes masterpieces with needle and thread.
Do you want to stand out in the pouring rain in only a pair of gumboots while singing songs?
Do you march to the beat of a different drummer?
If any of this sounds good to you,
Let a smile spread across you face
And admire your reflection in a storefront window.
For I know, you can be whoever you want to be.
A Septet
Great Beyond
Just what is out there?
Beyond the stars and planets.
Past the UFOs and James T. Kirk.
Hidden in the Great Beyond.
No one really knows.
Time will tell.