Big man,
He is a joystick celebrant
Hands clutched tight and sweaty
Grasping plastic happiness
...
This poem, this strong prowed
ship of words, glides silent or
merely wind whistling
through every storm of moment.
...
I am a small town girl who once dreamed of being a poet. Now I am a poet living a dream... I live in beautiful India and run a small guesthouse. I write for fun. Thought I'd share.)
Big Talker
Big man,
He is a joystick celebrant
Hands clutched tight and sweaty
Grasping plastic happiness
Shooting with repetitive motion
And phrasing, pressing down down the
Big red button with meaty thumb to achieve
Each pixilated success
Each new face like a screen before him
Opportunity only to play again
Say again the victory victory of
War hero imaginings
Smooth black handle, sharp
Lights and no ambiguity
He doesn’t even see us here
Not cheering him on.