lowellbailey

Archive for February, 2012|Monthly archive page

19 mins

In Uncategorized on February 18, 2012 at 6:00 pm

I have 19 minutes to kill.  Nineteen minutes to use.  I have nineteen minutes with which I can do just about anything.  For now, I choose to write.  Why not?  That way, at least, at some point, I can relive these nineteen minutes again.   At the moment I have that untethered feeling that one gets occasionally when the world seems quite large, large enough to make it impossible to get back to the ground that you feel comfortable walking on.  But, we walk on nevertheless, despite the styrofoam under our feet.  It squeaks and shifts under our toes, so frustrating.  It requires all of one’s energy, every kilocalorie of entropy-laden metabolism just to make the scenery change.  Forging onward through the foam I go, in hopes that a like-minded soul may lie behind the next bend, willing to bear the weight of my swollen limbs until I can regain my composure.  To set a course, my friends, that is really the only thing to do now.  It’s imperative, lest we wander in this mire forever!  And… nineteen minutes… TIME!

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Valentines Day

In Uncategorized on February 15, 2012 at 3:18 pm
photo credit: Elise Munn
I was puzzling and puzzling,
wondering what can I do?
I looked at the wall,
for an hour or two.
I tapped all my fingers,
and fiddled about,
perplexed and befuddled,
in a spiraling spout.
And then just when all
of my thoughts did collide,
I looked to my inbox
and what did I spy?
Why i spied a small mail,
just few lines of prose,
I opened it up,
and the offer arose:
“We’ll make you a deal!
Such a wonderful deal!
Just like Cupid’s shot
this will make Schmoopy squeal!
Why for just a small fee,
we’ll take in your dough,
and turn it around
and double it’s glow!
Then the flowers you buy,
and the vase therein placed,
will be worth twice as much,
as the order you placed!
So take out your wallet,
you smitten Mad Hatter,
for Valentines Day
is no laughing matter!”
And the rest my dear friend,
well it goes without saying,
St. Valentine came,
and the harps started playing.
So the story of fretting
it ends with a grin,
and plentiful pockets
that are not quite so thin!