Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 14-16/07/15

Here is the second of the catch-up days. All poems, as said before, have already been written. This is just posting them up.

14/07/15

The smallest one hid

at the back for photos,

an innate shyness caused

by always being the furthest away

from warm embraces.

While all the others

are fawned over, it simply sits

and waits for its turn, which never comes,

until eventually it is disowned,

left alone in the deep cold.

One day someone came to visit,

it passed all the others with perfunctory nods

until it came to the smallest,

at the back as always,

and smiled, said hello.

Pluto smiled back.

15/07/15

The bin in work is not just a bin.

It is not simply there

to hold the discarded items

that retail invariably brings –

packaging, faulty products.

It is also used as a ‘wet floor’ sign,

something to apathetically kick

when it is too hot and I am crabby.

It is also a beacon.

It is the first thing I see, bold red,

as I am opening the door.

A warning light to let me know

the next eight hours of my life

will be tedious, annoying

and preciously not mine.

16/07/15

The tall wide man

with skinny legs and

cliff-face shoulders

struts in front of the mirror.

His arms a map with only

one indicated ordinance feature;

a detailed topography of his

veins. He lifts a dumbbell

with a constipated grunt over his head

and strains. Cannon-balls jostle

for supremacy under stretched-out skin.

Next to him, a short squat man,

wide and less detailed quickly

loses enthusiasm halfway

through a routine. He looks at the tall, wide

man and considers his form,

the time masturbated away

aiming for what is seen as perfection.

Two minutes later, the squat man

is asking to cancel his membership.

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