PoetryAssignment.com » inspired by real events

The Day That Facebook Went Away

Miriam — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 13:46:39 +0000

It’s a ghost town now.
You step onto the street and lo,
You can move.
You get blocks without getting
Mired in those gaggles of kids
Noses in their flashy phones
With their business ties
And their flip-flops.

We never knew what they did
But damn it took a lot of them to do it
And then in a toga-draped
Beer-chugging hollering procession
They left.

Left to do some other mysterious business
To muck up traffic
To clothesline passersby
To eat ice cream for breakfast
To mock local shops with their cheerful oblivion
In some other part of town.

You step onto the street
And downtown belongs to you again.

(An explanatory note: I work at a small non-profit in downtown Palo Alto, CA.)

Garage Sale

donteatacowman — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 19:03:04 +0000

Walk up the driveway and see
What in the garage does reside–
The boxes overflowing with Stuff
Unneeded, unused, or unlovcd.
Each container or bag a red price tag holds
But one box keeps and stocks wares much better than gold–
Junkier than the rest
With the price of the best
Only one word adorns the cardboard side:
“FREE”

Sometimes “professional” means “idiot”

JessAnn — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 19:16:45 +0000

Amber Wash
Earth Mix
Eagle Lights
Warrior Wash

Four colors
Plus four cues
Plus one idiot lighting director
Equals nine exasperated techies

“What do you want here?”
“Not sure, I’ve never seen this before.”
I try not to let my face show
The battle my temper and I are having.

“Do you want a spot?”
“No, this is good.”
Luckily, she didn’t sit down.
“Spot, go, now.”

Anger flashes in everyone’s eyes.
We all take a deep breath.
I search my desk for something to throw.
Doesn’t the idiot know this is a real show?

The reason I have arm muscles.

JessAnn — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 21:14:05 +0000

When I got this new
Job, I was worried of one
Very simple thing.

I can not tell the
Difference between the many
Kinds of stage lamps. Yikes!

After two days I
Realized it doesn’t matter
Incredibly much.

They all have one thing
In common. Every single
Lamp type is heavy.

A Prop Master’s Worst Nightmare

JessAnn — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 22:29:20 +0000

Overflowing on
The table in front of her,
Props were neatly lined.

Everything had it’s
Proper place so it would be
Easy to locate.

Something was missing,
She noticed an empty spot.
The play began soon.

She ran across the
stage, careful not to be seen.
Frantically she searched.

Finally she screamed,
finding the pink sequined thing,
“Who touched the lantern?”

Fire and Ice

JessAnn — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 13:37:24 +0000

The blaze began only minutes ago, but it had already engulfed most of the two story house.
Orange flame danced wildly with the green all weather siding.
Licking it’s bright, flashing tongue against the old house.
Neighbors began to flood out into the cold from their heated homes.
Watching the blazing carnage, everyone were fascinated.
Screaming, a tall, balding man came flooding out of the green heavy duty prefabricated door.
He turned in circles for a full minute.
Turning, spinning, again and again.
Searching, looking, spinning, turning.
Again and again.
Over and over.
Turning and spinning
Spinning and turning.
He stopped, finally, not finding what he made himself dizzy over.
The neighbors, now in a near full state of shock, watched the man blaze back into the fiery house.
He pulled two young children out of the house moments later.
Both girls, ashes covering their faces, their clothes singed and smoldering.
Next came the lights and the sirens, and the orders.
The fire decided to fight back, engulfing the now empty house next door.
This caused people on the street start to panic.
They began to move like wildfire.
Blazing in through their own heavy duty prefabricated doors, gathering personal items.
Photo albums, jewelry, baggies filled with other miscellaneous items.
More orders, more flame, more water, more smoke.
The children were dead.
The children that often played in the front yard.
The children that covered the sidewalks with colorful art in the summer.
Now their father, the man, was dead too.
The man who may have screamed at his children a little too much.
The man who created a meth lab in his attic while his children were at school.
To the young girl, who lived across the street, it meant only one thing.
She would need to find another prefabricated door to visit twice a week for her fix.

http://poetryassignment.com/2008/12/assignment-door/

(Another one I’m not happy with. But inspired by a raging fire down a few blocks from me last night. A man and his two children died when the meth lab he built caused the house to catch on fire, along with the one next door.)