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:

• Five-Minute Friday: “attempt”
• Meme Express: “in a pickle”
• Simply Snickers: “field,” “fair”/”fare,” and “far”
• Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “prime”
• Writer’s Workshop: “beginning again”

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

 

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

King of the Bungle

Corporate enabling can lead to deal tabling.

I had a boss.

Let’s call him Gil.

His strongest suit was overkill.

This fellow foul

Did bellow, growl –

The underlings would sip the swill.

 

He’d call me in to script a speech.

We’d practice.I’d try not to preach.

But at the mic,

His rage would strike,

And Gil his ethics would impeach.

 

The audience of moguls, stars,

Would stagger swiftly to their cars

To take a hike,

No deal to strike.

Thus Gil was left without applause.

 

Ere long, his train went off the track,

This would-be king and crackerjack.

He blew his top

Without a stop.

Poor Gil, he had a heart attack.

 

Well, Gil survived, but was retired.

In his absence, much required,

Coffee poured;

Morale restored,

And profits rose, as if inspired.

 

His second was a quiet sort.

He led a solid, simpler court.

The business grew.

Well, gee, who knew

Success would come from cool comport?

c2017 by Linda Ann Nickerson

 

Image:

Adapted by this user from vintage artwork.

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

April A to Z Blog Challenge

National Poetry Writing Month / NaPoWriMo
Meme Express: “enabling”
#atozchallenge

#napowrimo

Feel free to follow on Google Plus and Twitter. Please visit my Amazon author page as well.

A-Z sketches in verse: Bully Bull

A bully’s merely full of bull –

The wool over our eyes to pull.

His dreaded secret’s hid, but clear.

The bully has the most to fear.

c2015 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image/s:

Bull-Man

Artist Unknown

18th Century – public domain

Feel free to follow on GooglePlus and Twitter. You are also invited to join this writer's fan page, as well as the Chicago Etiquette Examiner, Madison Holidays Examiner, Equestrian Examiner and Madison Equestrian Examiner on Facebook.