Another Breach

Posted on October 7, 2023 by sputterpub

The card expired 15 years ago.
I kept it in a box of useless stuff
that someone stole. And little did I know
the issuer was loose. There was enough
ID to activate the old account
and get a new card mailed to an address
not mine. The previewed bill made worry mount,
resuscitating what was waning stress.

Of course I called as soon as I could see
inside the envelope, delivered late.
I worked through “bots” to some with agency
to cancel, void, assure and thus abate
the tension I should know to keep in check.
The aftermath is just an aching neck…

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Amorphous Dread

Posted on October 6, 2023 by sputterpub

Amorphous dread is my Achilles’ heel.
It weakens like I’m cut and lately bled,
distracted by unease I can’t conceal:
amorphous dread.

I don’t complain – no hopes of mine are dead.
In most respects I’m living my ideal
existence, and no peril looms ahead.

But formless fear is weaving an appeal.
Anxiety’s a floss-strong length of thread,
and nothing fully soothes me when I feel
amorphous dread.

(Roundel)

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Bank Walk

Posted on October 5, 2023 by sputterpub

I set up an account online, and failed
to fund it with a transfer from within.
I tried correction via chat – assailed
by stupid prompts, and soon had to begin
again with “press or say.” I never nailed
the answer till I turned to origin.
I visited the bank to get things right –
I took a walk and more than one nice sight.

(Ottava Rima)

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Questionable Instinct

Posted on October 4, 2023 by sputterpub

Perhaps original and edging sin,
our species have evolved to notice strange.
It gave advantage in the race to win
survival through a world of threat and change.
But xenophobia can go too far.
Its consequence (both logical and wrong)
can reach to racism and build a bar
to benefits diversified and strong.

I hear systemic racism accused
of forming a foundation for our ways.
I read of genocide and groups abused,
and human evil booming worse these days.
What’s born of instinct, once a needed trait,
evolves into a tendency to hate.

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Scrabble Phone

Posted on October 3, 2023 by sputterpub

I played a Scrabble game with family
on Sunday, as it rained outside their place.
I saw them looking at their phones – all three –
a little funny and a small disgrace.
Desiring memory of every face,
I didn’t shout. I chuckled an appeal –
“It’s time to look at others, and embrace
the difference playing online, versus real.”

(Huitain)

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Packing Time

Posted on October 2, 2023 by sputterpub

The smoke from border fires starts to clear,
and soon home skies will let some blue appear.
My sinuses react to pollens here,
and patience with the kinfolk veers to queer.
I have no observations to en-poem.
It’s timely to get ready to go home.

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Lost in Dream

Posted on October 1, 2023 by sputterpub

I dreamt last night my toddler was misplaced.
I saw her last with toys upon the floor.
Pursuing treasures small, she crawling chased
some marbles and then sought a little more.
And I lost track of her – my dreaming tour
went elsewhere. I awoke to worried cares.
Where was she? Then I let time reassure –
she’s 47 now, asleep upstairs.

(Huitain)

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Diversion

Posted on September 30, 2023 by sputterpub

I had to overhear the arguments –
there wasn’t any room to get away.
Disparity in their intelligence
was always large, but now the field of gray
has shrunk to black-&-white. Denied dismay
in one promotes false attitude and naps.
The other runs to growth and turns to play.
A path two decades shared erodes in scraps.

(Huitain)

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Rough Riding

Posted on September 29, 2023 by sputterpub

I try to early-leave for every flight
(less nervous if there should be a delay),
and usually the train conveys me right
on time, but there were rough events today.
Police have something wrong to clear away,
or so each PA syllable explains.
I reached the airport, but I write to say
I had to board no fewer than four trains.

(Huitain)

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Vibrations

Posted on September 28, 2023 by sputterpub

I realized Tuesday as I walked to work,
and planned to see police who had secured
some missing items, circumstances jerk
me back and forth of late. I’ll grow inured
in time to what occurred, but I’m not cured
as yet – the stimulation doesn’t stop.
I yearn for bored, and long to be assured
there is no other shoe about to drop.

(Huitain)

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