Bedtime Podcast
earbuds in
lights off
lay back
eyes closed
mock death
so still
peaceful
deep tones
whisper
their spells
conjuring
illusions
to dance
struggle
survive
they speak
bid me
goodnight
Without words of Love
The night in the Garden
All life’s energy
Crossed the space between you and me
The touch of your finger
Singed onto my shoulder
Igniting my world of possibilities
The key, the missing piece, the unspoken complete
There in front me
I opened the book
Turned every page for you to look
To see
To reveal
My every atom rearranged
But what I felt that day
And those that followed
I knew truth but once
Let heart and soul bleed out
But never again
The closed poem
Of the Unrequited
Je t’aime Mon Amour
Café in Paris
Lips lined in revolution red sealed the envelope with a kiss
slid it across the table
a solitary tear dropped like a sparkling diamond
“We knew this day would come, I must go”
And like that
she was gone
Prompt #17: Son, Let Me Tell You of the Evolution of Music
When I was a kid, we were lucky to have a record player.
Vinyl records brought music the people around the world
With tones muffled by the static of a needle gathering lint as the table turned.
The more they were played the more likely the album got scratched.
With the cassette tape came clarity of a recording studio
And a more compact player,
Gone was the day of larger record players
And problems of lint.
But just when we thought our music was as good as it could be,
Our cassette tapes got stuck in players,
Breaking in the listener’s frustration.
Out came the Compact Disc,
But now the listener wanted more
And compact discs could not be easily played on the go.
Is that when we got MP3s dad?
Yes son, out of the CDs came MP3s.
A Park Themed After My Life
Tickets are printed on black paper, embossed with the red moniker
Of this park or terror and wonder, laughter and magic
Entry is through a hall of mirrors – reflecting both the hilarious and tragic
You leave without knowing if any of the images belonged in reality
Exit Dysmorphia and on to the next attraction –
To Bee or Not To Bee
An obstacle course distraction
Where you must avoid touching any bee icon any cost
Or a trapdoor will open sending you straight into hell –
Your sad demise signaled by a bell
Both your dignity and the game being lost –
Not for the faint-hearted the next is a ghost plane
Where you sit facing backwards to face passengers in pain,
Laid out on stretchers and hooked up to drips,
As you hurtle round backwards through the most horrific of trips
Themed after a journey the owner took at six
Having survived the ride you will enter the magical festival site
A myriad of festival simulations all in one price –
Be repulsed by fetid aromas piped through your nose
Or experience the thrill of being thrown over crowds
To get closer to bands nobody knows,
Enter the Find My Tent maze at your own risk –
It’s full of diversions and unimaginable tricks,
You could easily spend the whole day just on this game
And when you emerge nothing will ever be the same.
prompt 17 hour 17: how to talk about typewriters?
how to talk about typewriters?
telling kids I learned to type on a typewriter is a great way to boost my mood –
they never really know what that is
and I never really know how to describe it:
like a computer but not.
the mess of ink ribbons
white out
or starting over to get rid of
carbon paper smudges on “good copies”
of letters
or papers meant to be the cleanest, clearest version
of everything I knew.
not so much, really
when the daisy wheel letters stuck
to paper not quite thin enough to be onion skin.
believe me,
gratitude runs deep in me
for word processing.
I don’t know how my fore-writers did it:
all those pages with ink erasers and carbon paper.
I’d be in a straight jacket,
not writing at all.
© r. l. elke
Key-Pad Cell Phones – Prompt 17, Hour 17
The fuck?
The fuck are all these buttons?
Where are all the apps?
How do I text with this?
The Fuck?
No wonder people get addicted
to ease of use smartphones
when they used to have to press
1-9 multiple times just to say
the fuck.
I just wanted a smart phone!
Not this 1980’s futuristic communicator!
This star walking, alien fighting pos!
The fuck!
I did not ask for a phaser and assignment
To some star fleet ship, I have no desire to explore
the world beyond our galaxy or whatever,
it can’t even run flappy bird,
the fuck.
My collection of containers:
My collection of containers:
1 Hawaiian Punch jug
Label removed, gift from my great
aunt used to store pennies she littered,
a basement hunt for me and three
cousins, now collecting bedroom dust
2 ají jars
Small, protruding checkered sides
that catch the sun, beautiful,
decorations on the mantle,
one now contains holy water
3 applesauce containers
Kept because of the indents at the side,
easy to hold, memories of the kids
who sloppily ate from it, pretty
pictures of apples and smiles
5 paper cups
Large, used to hold tickets
at arcades, strips still protruding,
never turned in, dusting, hoping
to be used for a giant pink dog
5 take-out salsa containers
Kept for stirring paint, easier
than buying brand-new,
in my basement waiting
for me to start painting again
6 water bottles
Empty, lying on the floor,
reminding of boys long gone,
drunk the day they took my heart,
the last piece I have to hold
Tech Passing
I remember the last 8 track player, in my dad’s automobile
I listened to B sides of my 45s
Stinging like bee~ Muhammad Ali
I twirled my fingers through
Tightly twisted spirals
Still attached to walls.
For hours on end.
I called the operator, to get the time correct
Or to call collect.
I have paid a quarter, where superman once changed.
Nowhere to be found today.
That’s tech~
passing by
High Tech
I am the forerunner
Without me,
Your songs are not portable
Your music is incomplete
Your world is tune deaf
I am the one battling for existence
Without me
You cannot remember old songs
You cannot dance to your favourite tunes
Your world is dead silent
I am the one who made you high with my low tech
Now, you have replaced me with some high tech
You have divorced me and cling to iPod, iTunes, music streaming
Your heart is nestling in the bosom of Mp3, Mp4 and flash drive
I am the cassette.