Poems

Sounds of the World

~ Candice Detillier Huber

Peaceful, relaxing
sounds of the world. Sounds coming
together to form
one simultaneous boom,
beautiful and all its own.

 

The Hour Glass

~ Candice Detillier Huber

The hour glass pours forth grains
of sand fluidly, falling
from one side
to the other
like a
beautiful
waterfall, first
slowly, then faster
and faster, until at last, the
waterfall dries up, and time stops.

 

The ABC’s of Office Life

~ Candice Detillier Huber

At 8 a.m., I arrive on time to the office life I wish wasn’t mine. I try everyday to grow and

Advance, but I’m beginning to think that I don’t have a chance. My

Boss drones on though no one pays attention, and my

Cube is so small it’s beyond comprehension. There have been rumors about layoffs and

Downsizing, so what my boss says is really not surprising. I need to

Escape or at least drink some caffeine. I am so fed up with this stupid

Fax machine. I hit it again. God, my boss is too frugal. I sit back at my desk and open up

Google. Through pages and pages of research I scroll. I’m truly going brain dead sitting in this

Hell hole. I plug in my

iPod because I really need to cram, but as soon as I start printing, I realize the printer is

Jammed. I pound on the

Keyboard. I’m ready for

Lunch, but I have a

Meeting and I have a hunch that one of my coworkers is going to steal the idea that I had for a great New deal. I guess this is the life of being in an

Office, but I never thought it would be like this.

Powerpoints,

Quality control,

Reports, and meetings – each and every day it keeps on repeating. The

Stakeholders get angry, the

Tasks pile

Up, and I keep coming back because I’m a poor schlup. I’ve tried to add

Value, but I could care less. I wish I could stay home and still be a success. I look at my

Watch. The day’s almost over! Could it have possibly gone by any slower? Just one more

Xerox, then I’m through with these

Yuppies. I’m tired of being

Zealous, I’m going home to my puppies.

 

Dreams

~ Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

 

The Road Not Taken

~ Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

 

One Art

~ Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

–Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied.  It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.