Busy Day
Plans for Today
Listen to the doves cooing
Have coffee on the patio
Solve the Mideast crisis
Devise ingenious scheme to make millions
from working out of my home
Stare into the fridge a while
Take a nap
Solve the oil shortage
Come up with that clever comeback, that I couldn’t
Come up with years ago
Study for world lit. exam
Take a nap
Try to remember what it was I forgot to do
Travel back in time a bit
Lament the fact that birds won’t let you pet them
Wonder why people act the way they do
Figure out how the Egyptians built the pyramids
Figure out why
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poem by David Whalen
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Growth And Trees
Growth
Trees are conceived just as humans are
from seeds the striplings rise
Yet rooted to one place
They grow
No choice where their future lies
Subject to nature’s way’s and whim’s
bearing the brunt of chance
No option, no choice
No vote, no voice
they perform in the wind, their arboreal dance
And they grow
Like young children they blossom with grace and wonder
With litheness, with vibrance
Innocence thereunder
filled with awe and wonder
They grow, oh how they grow!
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poem by David Whalen
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Awesome understanding of everything
There were times when I was a very young child, that a feeling…
A sense of well being would flood over me. When I felt completely
At ease with…and understood fully the great scheme of all things great
And small, without knowing exactly just what it was that I understood so
profoundly, nor why it made feel so good.
That was so long ago. But then inexplicably It happened again!
While sipping morning coffee and reading two versions of Jean Auel’s
“The Mammoth Hunters” one in Spanish and the other in English, while
Taking my morning coffee at McDonalds in Walmart.
My weary ol’ eyes drifted from my books upon which I had laid my glasses,
To rain clouds misting over the mountains that rim the Vegas valley. I rubbed
My eyes and then my brow…and that was when my childhood epiphanies returned.
Sitting with eyes closed, fingers wrapped round my foam coffee cup, That sense
Of wonder…of profound peace, serenity and complete understanding flooded over
me once more….And for a few precious seconds I knew all…and had the answer to
Everything!
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poem by David Whalen
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Makes Me Want To Cry
Just a few facts
that should make you want to cry…
Four thousand per cent markup
On each bottle of water you buy
Four per cent of all U.S. energy is consumed
In the making of plastic
So I’m guessin’ that our average person
Doesn’t think the energy crises is drastic
Doesn’t even matter
what you’re putting in it
One hundred forty four thousand
plastic bags are used every minute
At least four billion bottles
purchased in 2010
An amount that’s quite
Impossible to truly comprehend
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poem by David Whalen
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My view of fog
People often view fog in one way only
I personally don't see it that way, and...
the feeling it conjures is more than just lonely
It's totally different...
as night is to day
It depends on your age and your state of mind
to be able to see fog in a different light
To see it one way only is to be partially blind
and most peoples vision is locked in...
too tight
Fog, coldly defined, is water suspended in air
And while defined so, gives no true definition, and yet
we know fog can defy easy description and,
can tiptoe soft as a kitten....or slither snake-like
from it's lair
To a child, fog's a soft, hidey-place plaything,
droplets of laughter, giggling out of the mist
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poem by David Whalen
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Not If, But When
Not If, But When?
Dim sunrise on a gray, smoky city
Cars line the roads, slowly rusting
Winds blowing ash, harsh and gritty
Acidic smog gives an evil dusting
Tires melted to pavement, rubber pools of blackness
Window Glass sagging from kiln-like heat
All move no more due to nuclear madness
In gutters, white bones scoured by gray caustic sleet
Destinations and drivers no longer exist
no organic life forms survive
Only wind blown gray ash and solitude persist
Where aspirations and ambitions did thrive
Empty buildings pleading for workers to toil
Winds moaning through windowless walls
Papers bubbling about in a bleak breezy boil
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poem by David Whalen
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Pay Attention! Part 2 (listen with your eyes)
Pay Attention Part 2 (listen with your eyes)
Pay attention!
Truly watch the one you’re with and you’ll see what most miss
Let them do the speaking, and watch closely while listening
Don’t think what your reply shall be, as most people are want to do
nor interrupt or comment while they speak.
Instead, listen superficially and observe hypercritically.
As much of communication involves facial contortions
and body gyrations, as does the actual uttering of words and sound
Follow the subject matter with sufficient attention, enough
To satisfy your speakers desire to speak, then endeavour to
Observe the amazing physicality involved
In this most multi-faceted, supremely descriptive,
intricate act of tacit communication
Watch, and hear with your eyes!
Observe the unceasing gymnastics of your speaker’s dancing eyebrows
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poem by David Whalen
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Corpus Delicti
More germs are transferred
While shaking hands
Than are transferred during
Heavy passionate kissing
So if you don’t grab the hand
Of The next person you meet
And just kiss them instead,
just think of all the germs you’ll be missing
On average, women say
seven thousand words every day
while two thousand words
most men utter
That could be because
Women rarely pause
While most men’s minds
Are most oft in the gutter
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poem by David Whalen
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Lies About Tall Guys
Just seems like it’s that way to me
Taller guys seem to get executive jobs
Shorter guys work mostly as clerks
Taller guys never seem to be slobs
Shorter guys always seem to be jerks
Taller guys seem to get all of the action
Shorter guys seem to be quite invisible
Taller guys always seem to deserve satisfaction
Shorter guys are lonely and miserable
Just seems like it’s that way to me
Taller guys just seem born to play sports
Shorter guys kinda seem to like tennis
Taller guys certainly look better in shorts
Shorter guys look like Dennis the Menace
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poem by David Whalen
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Witchy Woman
Lost in the bayou!
It was funny at first
To an adventure lovin’ youngen
This wouldn’t be the worst
Just a night in the swamp
In a little flat-bottomed boat
Enough water for one night
a piece of jerky in a paper poke
Awakenin’ from a sleep
He hadn’t known he’d even fallen into
the full moonglow diffused softly
By the Spanish moss that it shone through
Waterbugs skitterin‘, gators aglidin’
Cajun fiddle playin’ some where out in the night
Katydids singin’, water moccasins slidin’
In the distance, through the swamp mist,
shone a faint ghostly light
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poem by David Whalen
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