Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Fairy Tale Part 4

August 6, 2012

Start from Beginning

Part 3

They stopped off for lunch at a roadside mall. They’d passed scores of them since their journey began, hours earlier. Each mall was identical, featuring a McDonald’s, Subway, Popeye’s, with a sprinkle of Taco Bell. The crowd wasn’t too large, so they sat down and enjoyed their sandwiches. A TV nearby was set to a news channel. They watched a report of how Check had been bombed by Tiddly in response to a terrorist attack perpetrated by the insomniac militias of Iwalk and Isleep. The Check monarchy (known as the First Mate, or Mate for short) was calling for UZI (United Zones International) condemnation and sanctions against Tiddly. Tiddly’s Prime Minister, with one eye perpetually closed, decried the violence and pledged an investigation into how someone could steal their army uniforms and missiles. He denied all allegations and demanded an apology from Check’s Mate.

They spent the first half hour following lunch on an intercity highway. It passed the same as the previous hours, but then they reached the exit for Unsome.

“Remember to buckle your seat belt” said Flu as they entered the exit lane.

“Thanks. I have it on” said Obi as they decelerated to 15 miles per hour, exactly as the sign instructed.

“Do you think all those stories of Unsome are true?”

“That they are sticklers for rules and will arrest anyone, including the King’s best friend, for minor offenses?”

“Yes. I heard that also. Do you think it’s true?”

“I doubt it. I’m sure the famous poem is only propaganda.”

“It’s a poem?”

“Yes, we learned it in social studies class. I’ll tell it to you.”

Obi recited the famous poem of Unsome as they pulled off the highway and road the exit into Unsome.

Unsome:

I was sitting in the mud,
Waiting for that moment to come,
When I could join my friends,
In the land of Unsome.

I was exiled many years ago,
And now the years drag by so slow.
I was caught and tried,
For by the rules, I did not abide.
Life, the sentence would stand,
Yes, I would be totally banned,
From the land of Unsome.

From official to official I begged,
Please make the punishment end,
The answer was “nay”, I would have to stay,
With no hope for me to return,
To the land of Unsome.

Money was given as a bribe,
To erase my terrible crime,
But to no avail, my home was my jail,
And no way for me to return,
To the land of Unsome.

One day my friend became King!
My heart began to sing.
Now I’d return, to the land that I yearn,
The land of Unsome.

My friend said, “Sorry, no dice.
I just cannot be nice.
Your crime is a shame,
but I just can’t take the blame,
If we start having JAYWALKERS
In the land of Unsome!”

“Amazing” said Flu.

And then they both fell silent when they saw there was a roadblock and a soldier was approaching their vehicle.

Part 5

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An ant story (from early 2002)

April 6, 2012

Here is a story I wrote one night when I was studying in Israel.
One night I couldn’t sleep, so I went from the dorm room to the courtyard. I found swarm of large ants carrying a gigantic Israeli roach to its final resting place. As I watched, this story ended up on my paper.

I copied it how it’s written (aside for some minor spelling corrections) even though some of the puns are cringe-worthy. I’m also maintaining the original paragraph structure.

There was an ant named Richard.
But his friends would call him Adam
Because he was lazy as man.
Every morning his parents would wake him up.
“But the sun isn’t even up”, he’d complain.
“By the time you finish breakfast it will be light out.
“Besides, the early bird gets the worm and the early ant gets the bird.”
The problem with ants is they don’t have seats.
From the time they awake till the time they go to sleep
They are forced to stand on all 6 of their feet.
Richard enjoyed sleep. Sleeping on his back, with his head on a soft pillow. He couldn’t want till evening, so he could eat a quick supper and go to sleep.
One day Adam was going collecting, he was trying to find food
When he came across a TV that a mouse had thrown out.
It had a remote control, so he could watch without getting up.
Thrown out with the set was a perfectly good bag of stale caramel popcorn, so Adam didn’t starve. On the contrary, he grew quite fat.
(The other problem with ants is when they get fat, they aren’t horizontally challenged, but vertically challenged; and that made it sound like Adam was short, which isn’t true.)
When he shoved off for his hole (shlepping his popcorn behind him), he discovered he was too girthy to fit down the ant hole.
“Help me! Make the hole bigger, please!” Adam requested.
“If you want something done, do it yourself”, said Smithers, the ant guard.
Instead, Adam dragged his bag of popcorn a few feet away and cried.
Suddenly, an anteater came along and ate the whole ant colony.
He couldn’t smell Richard, because he smelled like caramel popcorn.
Richard cried for a few minutes. (That’s another problem with ants. They don’t have tear ducts, so when they cry, all they do is blink a lot. Although most ants are too busy to realize they are sad, and by the time they go to sleep at night they have forgotten why they were sad (Ants don’t have the greatest memories, which explains why they keep trying to go on my picnic blanket even though I chased them off about 3,713 times.) which is why ants seldom cry.)
When he finished crying he dragged his bag back by the TV and began watching again.
Adam watched TV for 2 straight months! (When his popcorn was finished, he discovered an old hot dog nearby, so he was never want of food.)
One afternoon when he was asleep (during the afternoon news), a pesky rabbit jumped by, pulling the plug and bringing the TV down with a crash. Adam woke up with a start. Realizing his loss, he began to cry again. The rabbit said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see the plug. Maybe if you play with the chip it’ll work.”
“Are you crazy?” Adam lashed out “It’s broken. But chips, now that sounds good.”
Now the TV had broken and the pieces lay all over the floor. Adam sniffed around, found a chip, and ate it. “Eww. This is horrible. It tastes like a chip off an old block. Oh well, at least it’s worth two in the bush.”
Suddenly, Adam felt queasy, he felt statically, but then he was picking up the channels normally. And, whenever he couldn’t get a good reception, he’d just adjust his antenni until he got a clear picture.
He died 3 years later, when he refused to pay his electric bill and they cut off his service, leaving him a shell of his former self.

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Soda Can

May 9, 2011

This a poem I wrote in November 2001. I was sitting in a Beis Medrash (study hall), learning with my chavrusa (study partner) and he left to take a break for a few minutes.
I noticed a soda can sitting on the table in front of me. Later that evening I was scheduled to go on my first date. I had heard that women liked poetry, so I wrote the following poem with the intention of impressing her. She was not so impressed, so this is the only “dating” poetry I’ve written.

Soda Can
The can sits on the table
And holds it down
And if the can would wobble
Fall to the ground
The table might start rising
And bump the lights
There is no way of knowing
Which one is right
Because even if you remove
The can from above
It still would not be proof
The can gave a shove
If you see a can on top
Resting, at ease
Don’t blow it or make it drop
Just let it be

Creative Commons License This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Customer Service Training : A Poem

June 17, 2010

I’m at a mandatory training at my job
For “Customer Service”, to not be a snob
At my job, I don’t interface
With customers so it feels like a waste
I’m supposed to learn how to better interact
With coworkers and managers, have a great impact
Improve workplace morale and quality of work
Minimize conflict, arguments to brook
They prattle on and on about giving respect
Most men here point to reality and reject
The idealist view the trainer espouses
Tempers flare, tension rises, emotion arouses
Communication is raised, a positive trait
But this gentleman is fairly irate
The women are one nodding in agreement
The men are skeptical, they see appeasement
Is it honest to cover things up with a smile
Maybe fuck “truthiness”, it’s not worth the trial
The bottom line is you’ve a job to do
A paycheck to collect, a dollar and a cent or two
So go along, get along, don’t make a ruckus
I’m sorry but I still think this training is pointless