Progress

At the gas pump
the screen asks
"Would you like a receipt?"
I push a button
"Yes"

In my palm
on the screen
"4" appears
in a little app circle
With my stylus
I tap the circle

The screen asks
"Would you like
to update?"
With my stylus I tap
"Yes"

The screen states
I have to sign into
my account
With my stylus
I tap in my password

The screen states
I have to agree
to the new contract
Sixty-four pages
I read the first line
With my stylus
I tap
"agree"
wondering what
I agree to

In the checkout line
the screen asks
if the amount is correct
I press
"Yes"

Updates
Permissions
Information
Overload

New and improved
All behind
screens

Maybe someday....

I wish the world were kind
but it's not

I wish that money grew on trees
but it doesn't

I wish I could smell colors
but I can't

I wish I had gills to breath underwater
but I don't

I wish I were thinner
but I'm not

I wish humans treated one another better
but they don't

I'm still hoping though
and always will

november 6, 2009
me

***************************
Just thinking about stuff.

Wow.  If all mankind could see all the thoughts of one day of all people....well, I just don't know about that....

bags123

In upstate New York lives a man
Intelligent, witty, and kind
He gardens to harvest his land
While composing rhymes in his mind

That later spill onto the page
Keys clicking to and fro
Sometimes he must rearrange
To perfect the rhythm and flow

He likes tennis, biking, a smoke
Conversing with family and friends
I say he's a mighty fine bloke
With a heart where love never ends

If in your travels you meet him
Present him this rose from me
Thorns removed from the stem
I've gleaned much from his honesty

judithpiper
september 3, 2008

***
bags123. Who or what is that?

It is the forum name of a poet I admire and adore. His name is Gerry Spoor. (Oh that rhymed! Ha!)

In August, 2008, bags (as he is affectionately called) penned a few tribute poems for various members of PoetryPages.com . So I penned one for Gerry. It is from my heart.

In January, 2007, an ex-Way friend with whom I had recently reunioned encouraged me to find an online forum on which to post some of my poetry. This friend sent me pages of online links. I perused four links and picked one that resonated with me. It was a perfect fit. :-)

Poetry Pages was my first step outside of Way/ex-Way contacts on the internet. The forum was like a breath of fresh air - encouraging, humorous, believing in others, not trying to fix one another, and understanding that poetry is art. It is expression. Bags123, Gerry Spoor, was part of that mix, one of the wonderful souls I met on Poetry Pages.

Gerry is open, up front, kind, honest, and funny all in one. He left/leaves an imprint on me many a time to help not take myself too seriously, yet to endeavor to treat life with dignity.

I am going to post some of Gerry's poetry on my blog over the next week or so. How much remains to be seen.

To read more about Gerry, click the links below.

A Poet Learns to Be Unread
Meet bags123
Gerry's Poetry Archive on PoetryPages.com

***

significance beneath my sandal

one grain of rock
trampled under
crushed beneath
my sandal

no thought given
to its suffering
for it is
but gravel

yet this pebble
tossed on water
rippled pond
life aroused

one day trampled
no thought given
form concealed
underground

another day
tossed to freedom
bobbing shapes
round and round


march 31, 2007
judithpiper


As I sat thinking one March day, I got an image in my mind of gravel and dirt and what we crush underfoot. I thought of the human condition and that sadly, individuals are too often treated likewise and feel the same; ie: in a crushing under someone's foot they feel "...that their lives are of little worth" (quoting Carole King). At least too often it seems folks feel that way; I know I do.

Yet, one person's words or deeds that may seem so insignificant and small can have a profound effect when tossed upon the fluid landscape of consciousness and culture.

For me, in exiting an indoctrination system/organization where autonomy was often suppressed and stifled, this poem had (and has) deep significance.

Another aspect is something I think about somewhat regularly. That is, whose blood and life has fed the ground underneath my feet? It can cause me to feel small and large at the same time in regard to the expanse and scheme of life.

I believe each person's journey has substance and that us humans behave the way we do for reasons, sometimes unknown even to ourselves.




Eventually by Carole King: http://www.lyricsdepot.com/carole-king/eventually.html