"phill" poems
What It Takes To Be A Writer
By Phill Senters
As I pondered at my desk today,
about what words of wit to say,
That’s when it came into to my mind,
what it’s like to try and be a writer.
What does it take, one may well ask
to perform this often thankless task
just to try and make this world a little brighter?
Across my office floor all strewn,
are little bits of paper
I have written words upon.
Lots of words are held therein,
waiting for the final toss into the garbage bin.
With accusation, now it seems
they’re staring back at me
I feel as if I’m being watched as I plan and think and scheme.
Should I pick them up and toss them out
when next I need some caffeine
from the coffee spout?
No, not yet, I may need one,
keep ‘em round a little while until I’m really done.
Lord, now look at that old silly clock
it’s running oh, so fast.
Time just never seems to be a friend
that’ll hang around and last.
Maybe that’s what separates
my future from my past.
Now it’s turning dawn outside,
I can see it through the panes.
The light brings all those noisy
sounds to remind me once again.
Looks like I’ll have to leave for now,
and do a full day’s work,
Before returning home again,
where these accusing words still lurk.
Waiting to accuse me
of slacking at my job.
Just because my eyes won’t work,
and my head begins to nod.
If this is what it’s gonna take, to forge a writer out of me,
I pray to God it happens soon,
‘cause I can’t take much more.
So I pick up those accusing words, still scattered on the floor,
and stack ‘em up as cleanly, and neatly as I can,
Because I’ll surely need ‘em when next I’m here again,
I know that they’ll be waiting
when I stagger through that door.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 5:21 AM UTC
food. i wonder what
money. tastes like, i wonder what
freedom. tastes like, i wonder what
you. taste like, i wonder what "taste" tastes like, you know, like
the
word
'taste'
bOUNces off the
tip/ of/ my/ tongue, a tinny little--
t-uh
skinny little--
t-uh
--a thing,
some-thing, th-thing, th-thick,
a phull-er th-thing to
phill. me. up.
make me pheel
so p h u c k i n g
WHole,
a-gain.
(ag-yen. ag-yaaeeen. mm.)
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 12:19 AM UTC
Passing Time
By Phill Senters
When I was young and in my prime
I never thought of passing time.
As I grew older and became of age
I thought time at work was like a prison’s
cage.
I ran wild and thought always,
How young and full of life I’d be.
Until the relentless, sweeping hands of time
Came swooping, crowding in on me.
No longer did I wonder what he meant
When Grandpaw said ‘Youth must be from Heaven sent’
And when my mom said ‘Some day you’ll understand, my son,
That life is so much more than having fun’.
So my advice to all that care to heed,
Have all your fun and fill that need.
But while you’re still so very young,
Fill your life with good deeds done.
Save up memories that cause a smile,
And make good friends
to keep thru all the miles.
Listen to the older folks and learn more of their ways,
You’ll be glad you did when you reach your golden days.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 5:17 AM UTC