Friday

A wonder in the waiting

 

A marvel awaits, as we cease to attempt,

To right every wrong and the Victor preempt.

We race far afield,

Forgetting to yield,

And cultivate strife. Thus, we harvest contempt.

 

We pique in a pickle and wrinkle fair brow.

We pause not for progress; our tempers endow.

And so in our prime,

We lose the sublime,

To sacrifice joy on the altar of now.

 

The sudden has surely been much oversold.

Our striving earns nothing but shiny fool’s gold.

Beginning again,

In each now and then:

We might wonder what may our waiting behold.

c2023 by Linda Ann Nickerson



 This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

 Image: Victorian Portrait of Unknown Woman – vintage/public domain, finder’s credit to Sepia Saturday

 

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Tuesday

Rot off the press – Limericked views on breaking news

 

The news is extra, you can bet.

Its fiction casts a wider net.

Of facts, off-base,

No track or trace –

Let’s give those folks a statuette.

 

Behind the scenes, they access gain.

They pick and peck past their domain.

Don’t blink. Press print.

Oh, no. You didn’t.

Our hearts are torn; they pour champagne.

 

As readers, viewers, they hoodwink.

They tap their keys; they nod and wink

To grab the scoop

And loop-de-loop.

The story’s never what we think.

c2023 by Linda Ann Nickerson



 

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

 

Image: “Extra! Extra!” from The Graphics Fairy / vintage / public domain

 

Feel free to follow on Twitter, and follow Nickers and Ink Creative Communications on Facebook. Please visit my Amazon author page as well.