The Daily Poem

PERSONAL SPACE STATION

I live in my personal space

The air that my skin can displace

A bundle of nerves and a brain

Sensations of pleasure and pain

Devices to send and receive

The will to ammend or believe

A measure of time on the clock

To float where I may from the dock

The web is a terrible place

But safe in my personal space

Attune to the way it behaves

Electromagnetic waves

Are the only propulsion I need

Continuous RSS feed.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Rhyming Couplets)

FROM PILLAR TO POST

With dollars we won't pay attorneys,

Let's take us a few feverish journeys.

We'll travel on hospital gurneys,

From border to border & coast to coast,

Just eating French Toast

From pillar to post,

And making the most

Of our Dollar-Yen-Franc,

With Sauvignon Blanc

As chaser for anything poultry or fish,

With every fine Thai or Italian dish.

It won't last forever,

But longer than never,

And how very clever

To think of such travel,

Avoiding the gavel

On roads loose with gravel

To places of striking antiquity,

Like Venice & Rome & Vatican City,

Or Souix City Iowa, O what a pity!

To Africa, Asia, Austrailia and then

We'll turn it around and we'll do it again.

We'll buy no insurance,

Accept no assurance

Of safety in numbers

Or militant members

Of any maniacal corps,

No matter how much they implore.

The world will be ours to explore,

Alone in our sensitive skins,

Investing in earth as it spins,

High-fiving each day that begins

As if it'll be the best one,

The best that has ever begun,

And fill it with joy by the metric ton.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Skeltonic Verse)

BOUGHT & PAID FOR

Absolutely nothing does

Just exactly what it was

When the thing was something new

Doing what it had to do

Since the thing was freshly made

Money counted money paid

Now it will not do the thing

Broken wire broken spring.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Rhyming Couplets)

C60

"Icosa" means twenty (in Greek)

And "hedron" means face.

A true congnoscenti (is Latin)

For knowing a lot of one field;

Like solid geometry (geek!)

Or deep inner space,

Or Nanobiology :-)grin(-:

The stuff that has long been concealed.

The icosahedron (is neat).

Take all of the vertexes,

Truncate the apexes

Squarely in line with the base—

An opposite face.

And when they're all gone, (s-weet!)

If seeing's believing, you've seen,

A Buckminsterfullerene!

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Novel Verse Form)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Truncated_icosahedron

CROSSWORD CLUE

No feet, but running down,

   An ancient geo-quiz,

A Mesopotamian proper noun

   That isn't what a lion is.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Ballad Meter)

PRIMARY RESIDENCE

I took some red from off a flame,

   Some green from off the sea,

And made some land all rich and brown

   With night's fertility.

I took some yellow off the land,

   Some blue from off the sky,

And made some forests rich and green

   And bid the day goodbye.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Ballad Meter)

MY LAST SWEET RITES

The world's been nicely diced in word-sized bites.

We ladle them with pen-like vocal spoons.

Each cube contains its image-ready sights.

This soup is just the swallowed ink that writes

Our minds in metaphoric cubed cocoons;

The world's been nicely diced in word-sized bites.

We dialogue in crooning moth-like flights

Above our heads in lyric thought balloons;

Each cube contains its image-ready sights.

Our hungry ear with tongue-like want invites

The spoken song's articulating runes;

The world's been nicely diced in word-sized bites.

Our repertoire of pure imagined heights

Brings earthward all the mist-fed visioning moons;

Each cube contains its image-ready sights.

Accept this wing-like food my heart recites,

To feed this love of ours my soul consumes.

   To you, my love, I serve my last sweet rites—

   My fractaled heart's recursive tuned perfumes.

My world's been nicely diced in word-sized bites,

Each cube contains my image-ready sights.

for my wife, Mimi

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Villanelle)

FIRST SIGHT

The words come in and play their image on my screen,

And so I see the things I never would have seen.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Epigram)

HUNGRY GIANT

I pulled all the fish from the seven seas,

   I snared all the birds from the seven skies,

I shot all the beasts off the seven lands,

   And put all their meat in a million pies.

There's not a meat that's left to eat

That isn't in my silver tins.

Just plankton is left in the seven seas,

   Just insects are left in the seven skies,

Just lizards are left on the seven lands,

   And everything else is cooked in the pies.

Fee Fie what have I done?

Foe Fum what have I done?

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Novel Verse Form)

INFINITY SANDWICH CUBES

The aerial delicatessen serves

   Infinity sandwich cubes

That taste like Cinnamon Fin hors d’oeuvres

   Still wet from the harvest tubes.

They send a dozen icy trays,

   For Tuesday-nighter's church.

We sing and dance our songs of praise,

   From our communal perch,

Where the aerial delicatessen serves

   Infinity sandwich cubes.

And when we’re done, we simmer down

   With Bubble Pearls on rye,

And not a soul refuses when

   Again the cubes go by,

That taste like Cinnamon Fin hors d’oeuvres

   Still wet from the harvest tubes.

~ D. Edgar Lamp (Novel Verse Form)