Category Archives: my writings

Warning Signs

A warning sign for some medications:
Do not take this with alcohol.
Another alongside the first:
Do not operate heavy machinery.

It’s important to understand
The reasons for the warnings,
Lest in contradiction
One finds self destruction.

A warning sign for construction zones:
Hard hat required.
Another near the first:
Danger High Voltage.

How many ways must it be said
To drive home the point
If you don’t know what you’re doing,
You’d best keep out?

Life is full of circumstances,
Has a plethora of situations
Where heeding warning signs
Might reduce pain and suffering.

A warning sign for emotional abuse:
Provoking others to jealousy.
Beware the heavy machinery.
Another right beside:
Abundant employment of the silent treatment.
Do not consume with ethanol.

If another’s versions of events
Make of them a saint and you something less,
Danger: High Voltage.
If always those versions vary slightly from what happened,
Beware: an attempt to take control may be ahead;
Hard hat required.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

Related Posts:

  • Dating Emotional Predators: Signs to Look Out For – this article is what inspired this poem. A quote from the post: “I cannot count the endless number of abusers I have met who begin their ploys with superficial charm accompanied by self-absorption and an actual lack of empathy or substance…. Skilled predators are quite charming and you can easily learn to see through this by observing the way they exaggerate how they feel about you and their glib ways of showing you that they ‘care’ when they really don’t.”
  • 21 Warning Signs of an Emotionally Abusive Relationship
  • Why I Didn’t Realize My Relationship Was Emotionally Abusive
  • Spotting the Signs of Emotional Abuse – “Since emotional abuse can occur in so many different ways, it’s often difficult for a loved one — or even the abusers themselves — to recognize the signs of emotional abuse. Making things worse is the fact that many victims of emotional abuse become ‘brainwashed’ into believing that the abuser really cares for them.”

Winds of Countenance

Three seconds expand,
Future hangs in the balance:
I emerge, hurried.

She walks casually,
In the center of the hall.
She sees me, smiles;

A delighted smile,
A smile like the ones before.
Heart anticipates:

Oh could it be now
The long silence is ended?
But no words emerge.

I move right, hurried.
She pockets her smile, scowls,
Averting her eyes.

Winds of countenance
Blew the future with full force;
Future remains past.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

The Cupboard in the Corner of My Atrium

My Atrium is no ordinary shop:
No wares are peddled,
We don’t do consignment,
There’s no cash behind the counter.

Here behind the fence
Of my serous pericardium,
You’ll find, if you request,
Emotions—free of charge.

But if you want an emotion
From my Atrium,
You’ll have to step up;
Step up to the counter and ask.

But if you want jealousy,
We’re fresh out.
Well, that’s not right:
We no longer stock it.

Jealousy is messy,
It gets in the cracks,
Turns the grout green,
Stains white things black.

Jealousy does not produce
Manliness nor masculinity;
Those are both best
Grown internally.

So when we find
A trace of jealousy
On the floor
Or oozing down the stairs

We fetch the mop
From the cupboard
In the corner
Of my Atrium.

So, what will you have?
What will it be?
You’ll have to step up to the counter
And make it known.

If you’d rather get your fill
From some other,
That’s your choice.
There are other customers at my till.

But the portrait I painted
While you stood outside
Window shopping
Is etched into the wall.

And there it will remain—
Whether you give your wants a name,
Or never come to my counter again—
In the middle of my Atrium.

Now, where’s that mop?

©2014 H.K. Longmore

Protected: Game Clock Time – With Links

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Game Clock Time

I’m told in certain circumstances in tournament soccer play, it can be advantageous to lose a game so that you play a weaker opponent next, and a stronger opponent plays a stronger opponent, possibly losing, thus allowing you to play the weaker team and win. I suppose it is possible that under certain circumstances, a tie would be advantageous, and possibly a 0 – 0 tie. That supposition is a required backdrop for this poem.

The hour appears to draw near
When the game clock sings
And the crowd will cheer;

And I will leave the field a victor,
Despite the score being zeros.
Not by my being a hero, no.

By: my fear of the unknown,
the strength side of my weakness,
my ultimatum uncommunicated, unfulfilled.

All shots on the goal missed;
Some deflected, others poorly timed,
And some badly aimed.

And though time remains,
I’m like a quarterback
Kneeling after the snap;

I must keep the ball
Centered mid-field
And watch the clock expire,

For fear a warning dream
Becomes my future,
And I don’t wake with a scream.

I must watch the clock run out,
From self-respect on a two-way street,
Where what’s good for the goose—

You may think I’ll be tired,
Running around in circles
Trying to keep the ball away;

But the only circles I’ll be running
Will be the ones in my mind.
There’s but two on the field:

The goalie and me.
Guarding the goal, the goalie won’t yield;
Never engaging me to take the ball.

I cannot enter the goal box,
So I set the ball at mid-field,
And slowly back away;

Still, the goalie won’t engage.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

Maid of the Mist

Water Over Niagara Falls
I peer over the edge
At the rushing water below.
Not content
With second best,
It beckons.

Nor can one-fifth
The world’s freshwater
Plunging o’er its brink
Satisfy its thirst:
It calls out.

Two million liters
And more,
Per second,
Pass its lips.
It cries out.

The Maid of the Mist
Found escape from shame—
Refusing a mate arranged—
In the fifty meter drop;
So the legend goes.

The horseshoe calls,
Calls to me.
With my mass
Going o’er the brink,
It could be content.

With my body
In its depths,
Its thirst
At last
Satisfied.

For all the pain
I’ve caused her,
And her, and her,
I could do this
And feel justified.

All the pain
I will yet cause,
One small leap
O’er the rail
Could forestall.

But I see through the mist;
I see the pain
That leap would cause.
I linger, watching,
Then walk away.

She’ll not have me,
Not have me today.
Her rival Victoria
Retains first place.
The day remains beautiful.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

Vain Imaginations, Reinterpreted

Booksreadr scrapes the web and creates a digital library from whatever PDFs and probably other ebook formats it finds. They grabbed my book and added it to their library. (I sincerely hope it was only the 20% free version, but I’m not willing to give them my credit card information to validate my address so they can give me a free account, as I’m skeptical of them and their product, based on how little contact information they give.) But they apparently didn’t like my summary. It appears they took my description written in native English, machine
translated it to some other language, and translated it back to English, making for a rather amusing though ridiculous rendering of the description. From http://booksreadr.org/ebook/vain-imaginations on 26 November 2014:

Imaginations is just an assortment of verses created within 2000 to 2014’s span. The verses variety in character from heart-wrenching to heart, from unique to governmental felt, to inventive from term play. There’s a workout on avoiding while looking through the banned windows many tales up the exterior stairwell of the mindset building on the college university, Jumper, followed closely by the light a brand new although medical undertake the topic, Vapor Space. A few of the animals highlighted are leaders and gnats, ostriches and finches and kangaroos and politicians. In these websites, springtime winter, and drop can be found; summertime are you able to discover? Demise exists: the demise of family members and also the demise of feelings. You ll discover systems and resources: fax devices and teapots, metronomes along with a smartphone; garbage and books. Should you seem cautiously, you’ll find Orwell and Theodore; serenity, and finally.

My actual description from https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/481054:

Vain Imaginations is a collection of poems written over the course of 2000 to 2014. The poems range in nature from whimsical to political, from heart wrenching to heart felt, from word play to imaginative. There is Jumper, a thought exercise on escaping while staring through the barred windows several stories up the external stairwell of the psychology building on a university campus, followed by the lighter Steam Room, a fresh albeit scientific take on the subject. Some of the creatures featured are gnats and giants, ostriches and finches, foxes and kangaroos, wasps and politicians. In these pages, winter, spring, and fall are present; can you find summer? Death is present: the death of emotions and the death of loved ones. You’ll find tools and technologies: metronomes and teapots, fax machines and a smart phone; textbooks and trash. If you look carefully, you can find Teddy, Bradbury, and Orwell; and at last, peace.

There was a famous attempt at machine translation in the early days of artificial intelligence (well, famous in the field of AI). The phrase “The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak” was translated to Russian then back to English. The result? “The vodka is good but the meat is rotten.” So this Seattle, WA company (at least, that’s where their terms of use agreement says court cases will go; the domain is registered in Panama) is doing about as good as circa-1960’s MT. Way to go.

P.S. If anyone has a booksreadr account and can tell me how legit they are, I’d be interested to know.
P.P.S. Whether the actual phrase “The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak” was put through an MT system in the late 1950’s or early 1960’s is a bit apocryphal. But there were MT systems that translated from English to Russian, and from Russian to English, which made similar messes of idiomatic speech.

See-saw

Author’s note: This one got stuck in draft status back in April. While looking for another draft, I found it and decided it was done as is (plus I don’t remember where else I might have been going with it).

Come see-saw with me said she.
It will be fun, you’ll see.
We’ll jounce from ground to sky
As our stomachs fill with butterflies.

So I crossed the playground sand
To join her at the see-saw.
Upon the high seat I placed my hand,
But the plan had a slight flaw:

She stood up and backed away
Before I could apply tangential force
To the torque arm; my arms splayed
As my head rushed toward gravity’s source.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

Sigh

She stood, waiting;
Fingers busy,
Eyes focused.

She inhaled,
Her lungs expanded,
Their physical volume deceptive
Of the depth of her emotion.
She exhaled.

Her sigh was perhaps one second long.
Considering the history of the earth,
Her sigh was infinitesimally short.

But by the depth of her emotion?
All the oxygen in the atmosphere
For an infinitely small slice of time
Was drawn into her lungs.

When she exhaled, the universe exhaled with her.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

Almost, But Not Quite

He almost got out of bed early today.
Almost, but not quite.
He nearly hit a car as he squeezed past on the right.
Nearly, but all fears he did allay.

She almost ate lunch with them.
Almost, but not quite.
She nearly left in fight or flight.
Nearly, but she did not ruffle her hem.

He almost told her of his ultimatum.
Almost, but not quite.
She nearly kept her words from finding her kyte.
Nearly, but she swallowed ’em.

She nearly fulfilled the ultimatum.
Almost, but not quite.
He nearly broke it, had she been in sight.
Nearly, but he swallowed his “Hi”, literatim.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

The Antisocial Experiment

When two people converse
But always on the second’s turf,
How does the first know
Whether the second cares?

They conduct an experiment—
Be their own turf king,
Stop conversing until where
Changes, not when.

But what if all conversations
Between the first and the rest
Are because he initiates?
How can he know the problem wasn’t just him?

And so was born
An innocent experiment:
He shall begin no conversations
No not one.

The antisocial element
Is quite perverse,
But perhaps this verse
Will wipe away the tears

Should it prove that the problem is him.

© 2014 H.K. Longmore

Afternoon Shiver

It is meeting time.
Distracted by passers by,
Listen and observe.

I observe this one
Coming and going again.
The meeting goes on;

This one goes again.
My body soon shivers hard;
No explanation:

I’m indoors, it’s warm;
Winter has yet to strike here.
But still I shiver.

She returns once more,
A sweater now adorns her.
Shivering explained?