This blog is devoted to a select group of poets. We're starting with poets from the Ann Arbor area, but, hey, if you're from Detroit, Grand Rapids, Saginaw or the Upper Peninsula, then that is okay, too.
Our goal is to provide you with a prompt every day from which you are to garner inspiration and submit a poem. How to submit will be very easy. Just put your poem or short story in the comments section and hit post. You may not immediately see your post, but it is there under the "Comments" section. You may need to click on "Comments" to see your poem. It is there on another page.
Today's poem or short story prompt is the word "packing"
(note: this week's posts by Mike are dedicated to the Harry Potter Alliance http://thehpalliance.org/ a group of dedicated mostly-Muggles doing good in the world. See you at Misti Con this weekend.)
Our goal is to provide you with a prompt every day from which you are to garner inspiration and submit a poem. How to submit will be very easy. Just put your poem or short story in the comments section and hit post. You may not immediately see your post, but it is there under the "Comments" section. You may need to click on "Comments" to see your poem. It is there on another page.
You may need to have a Gmail account to post in the comments section. Most of you do have Gmail, but for those of you that don't it's extremely worthwhile to open up one now! That way you've got a chance to get your work out there in the world.
(note: this week's posts by Mike are dedicated to the Harry Potter Alliance http://thehpalliance.org/ a group of dedicated mostly-Muggles doing good in the world. See you at Misti Con this weekend.)
Payout
ReplyDeleteIf I could send you packin'
I would
The mediator won't let me
We got to be reasonable here
Or we're going to lose everything to lawyers
If there's one person you hate more than me
It's a lawyer
So this is what I propose
Since agreeing on stuff ain't our strong suit
We just start flipping coins
Or rolling dice
To settle who gets the bed
Who wins the sofa
The way I look at us now is
We was like a bad slot machine
You know the one in the corner
It had all flash and noise
Playday or Dream Lover
Or Work No More or Ships Come In
Would almost hit
Pay out occasionally
So you keep stuffing it with quarters
Telling yourself you've spent too much
To leave and go home
Catherine Powers
May 8, 2013
Copyright 2013
WAITING FOR THE SHUTTLE
ReplyDeleteIt was going to be my last international trip. For the last four years, I'd been flying from country to country teaching an obscure programming language to a shrinking audience. The androids were all first-generation and beginning to fall into disrepair. The Powers That Be declared that they would no longer be making replacement parts, which meant that the androids would die off one by one as their parts wore out. There was no reason to learn the language that they spoke. It would be as dead as Mandarin or Italian in less than a decade.
It made me sad. Both the death of the programming language and the death of the androids.
The androids were the last of the generation that tried to appear human. The newer ones looked more like the robots of the old science fiction movies. Even though the earlier ones couldn't do as much - they basically cleaned house and stored media - they seemed warmer, easier to live with. I had two of the newer prototypes in my domicile already. I was a Beta Tester.
They were rude. They did tasks that Rosie could have done. They were faster and more efficient. Boxes of metal with poles for arms and claws at the end. They were more agile and better at multitasking. Rosie was left standing in her charger in the sunroom, bored and useless and beautiful.
When they answered my Beam, they often interrupted my friends, telling them to "get to the point". Efficiency. My meals didn't have the little sprig of parsley, my latte didn't have a flower in the foam. It would only take a few button pushes to "tell" the new robots to do those things, but I had to tell them. Rosie had done that on her own.
The new robot - CD193 - carried my travel bag to the shuttle bay while I finished dressing. I looked across my domicile and saw Rosie there in the corner. The sunshine lit up her face and the left side of her body. Not quite human, but they'd tried. Our eyes met. She was on Low, conserving power until she was needed, but I saw her eyes track me as I walked across the room.
That wasn't part of her programming.
I walked back and forth a few times and sure enough, she followed me. I wondered if it was an optical illusion, the way some paintings seem to follow you around the Gallery. The robot buzzed, letting me know that the shuttle had arrived. I picked up my copy of the training book and walked toward Rosie.
From about ten feet away, something looked funny. The light was hitting her funny, causing a tiny reflection where there shouldn't have been one. Just at the swell of her cheek, underneath her left eye. It almost looked like a tear.
- Mike Fedel
May, 2013