"dicken" poems
It's that time of the Patriot's year
Postseason playoff games are in full gear
The road to the Superbowl, I cheer
But not for the big, bad grissly bear
That takes every opponent's fate without fear
That's right the big bad bear without peer
I'm snickering the Patriot's to cry a tear
Nothing would make me so happier, I swear
Fricken, dicken, bitchen Patriots beware
To see another Bostonian tea party, I glare
I do show respect at the Patriot's lair
Brady and Belicheck what a podded pair
Steady, stoic and simulcast, condescending I declare
You see a Patriots playoff loss is so rare
Their team profile is beyond compare
A well oiled machine that wear
Goliath close over David with regular fare
The road to this year's Superbowl Sunday, I say a prayer
That the other teams flag is flying patriotically in the air
Logan Robertson
1/11/2019
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 5:05 AM UTC
Yes I jumped in those leaves
crunchy, fluffy, autumn leaves
Waded in the decorative fountain
Climbed on the public art
Yes I danced swing in the BART station
Hid in the grocery store among rolls of
toilet paper
Had to *** a ride after the Dicken's faire
Played in the rain
Hugged my mother
Made my dad take me to see Tangled in 3D
Yes I measured the baking soda for those
dinosaur chocolate chip cookies
Loved Steve Irwin will all my childhood admiration
Was afraid of the Deep End
Memorized Shel Silverstein
Remember my sister reading me Harry Potter
Gripping my best friend on Tower of Terror, Indiana Jones, Space Mountain
Sang Christmas Carols in October
And I'm not even sorry
I was a pirate paleontologist pop-star
pokemon master steampunk rocker renaissance girl who
time-traveled, hunting T-rex
adventuring with Christopher Robin, Calvin and Hobbes
Made two corsages for my junior prom, fed ducks,
ate at Mels, posed in the dollar store, watched
the Avengers in our glittering dresses for the second
Laughed so hard I cried about the stupidest things
I doubted, got lost in Costco, found my faith
Had my prayers answered
For the bestest, most faithful friends
I have the "simple human relief of knowing you’ve done wrong, and living through it"
And don't take this the wrong way
It's not like I'm going to jump off a bridge
Well, maybe with a bungee cord?
But if I died right now
**** Gone.
I wouldn't say I envied anybody
Not really
We've had a pretty **** great time
haven't we?
Oh sure I'd protest
Places to go, people to see, things to eat, but...
As long as You forgive me
my faults
Whose to say,
There is anything else I HAVE to do
Before I have lived a GREAT life
I have nothing to prove
besides that I am grateful
for this breath of life
which may pass at any moment
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
When the chickens come to town,
do not smile,
do not frown,
sacrafice Mrs Hicken,
sacrafice Mr Dicken,
run away from the chickens,
jump away from the zickens.
When the chickens jump up and down,
do not abreviate,
do not noun.
sacrafice Mrs Houn,
sacrafice Mr Boun,
run away from the ground,
try to not, make a sound.
When the chickens fall from the sky,
do not winge,
do not cry,
sacrafice Mrs Dye,
sacrafice Mr McKye,
duck away from the sky,
no billy, you can not fly.
When the sky, starts to fall out chickens,
not do slow,
not do quicken,
Mrs Sacrafice you will dicken,
Mr Sacrafice you will sicken,
sky away, from the stabbin'
die away, from the kebabin'.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC
Gout.
I have heard of this obscure disease
Maybe in a Dicken's Novel once
A disease of indolence and wealth
Of red meat and alcohol
Of excruciating pain with no cure.
It winds up being in
The top ten most excruciating conditions
And my husband of 28 years has it big time
We are neither indolent or lazy
We don't drink hardly at all
We have almost no risk factors
Now this gout is chronic
Driving my husband from sleep
To the ER at 3 am this morning
Try prednisone this time. Sigh.
Aging is not fun
There is something as bizarre
As chronic gout
Who would ever guess
Such a weird thing
When you are 25?
I feel entirely powerless to help
Other than to pick up the slack
Do more chores,
Bring him pillows or an ice pack.
Enjoy your youth because
We are feeling it at only 53
The Buddha says we will all suffer
We all become older.
We all get sick
We all die
The mastery lies
In having pain, without it
Turning into suffering
But you can meditate a lifetime
On one koan
And still never achieve
Liberation.
When I was young I took it for granted
Smooth muscles gliding past each other
Tolerance for imperfect situations
And a general ease about life.
If I had to do it over again
I would have appreciated
My youth more than I did
Now that it is gone, it is most
Revered,
like the Buddha.
Maybe next lifetime
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
How do you express,
that you constantly feel lunar -
amongst a sea of sunshine,
constantly bathed in their beauty,
constantly seeing their potential,
never quite making it
How do you explain,
that you feel like the remnants of
a something great,
the afterthought of a Dicken's novel,
the fading light at the end of a play,
the deleted scene of that 'classic'
How do you speak up,
when you feel like
you're just never going to be considered
no matter how hard you try -
that you're always going to be lunar
without any hope of ever shining through
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
the thoughts of a generation
lost in translation
vague thoughts and notions
kids just going through the motions
looking for no real kicks
just a temporary fix
some empty experience that will make you tick
you shed the weight of your mind like a brick
wishing that one good moment would freeze
forgetting the therapy given by trees
spending your life living off screens
dissatisfaction is carried by the breeze
nothing you say makes any real sense
it's not poetry, it makes us wince
we who seek an intellectual rinse
your words are worth no Dicken's pence
your generation has fallen out of sync
the world forgetting how to think
driving the old souls to drink
before we've even hit the brink
please don't let your brains get away
learn to appreciate the thoughtful days
appreciate the times when your heart chooses to stay
in that stimulating place; the intellectual fray
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
What an era to be alive
When people take spacedives
When scientists engineer better crops like golden rice
When politicians deny the melting of polar ice
When internet surveillance is coming to a peak
When we find answers that took so long to seek
This new era's fashions are young and old
In the face of adversity, protesters become bold
More and more we see environmental protection
And people from all over are making connections
As cities grow with a young world population
We find ourselves perplexed about infrastructure for most nations
Sometimes it seems like nothing changes at all
Then it seems like a revolution from the great to the small
In Dicken's words "it was the best of times
It was the worst of times", but there's plenty of material for a poet's rhymes
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 8:25 AM UTC