Text Me Truly

Text messaging’s a miracle;

As marriages are saved.

One need not spin lines lyrical,

When missives are engraved.

Notes don’t take introduction,

For brevity is key.

And words meet no obstruction,

Agree or disagree.

One’s character is not cut off,

Nor phrasing shouted short.

Our parlance seems above the scoff,

When single lines we sport.

Such documented words are safe

And painstakingly picked.

When questioned, should the memo chafe,

It’s clear what one has clicked.

Technology, we thank you much,

For helping us be heard.

You’ve surely saved us in a clutch.

All hail the printed word!

c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image:

Theme art – adapted from public domain image

Still from His Girl Friday, 1940

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Just Joy

I’ll here admit it: Life is tough.

Some days I think I’ve had enough.

Although I know it’s all been planned.

It’s hard to get the upper hand.

When circumstance goes ‘gainst the grain,

And daily drudgery does drain,

I hearken back, which takes a choice,

To listen to another voice.

 Ridiculous as it may sound,

Truth is, the downcast will be crowned.

When wrong’s removed and right is raised,

I know who will be ever praised.

Today is hard. There is no doubt.

I’m tempted to prolong my pout.

But I will hold my ground, prevail.

For happiness to joy does pale.

c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image:

Theme art – adapted from public domain image

Still from Cleopatra, 1917

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Mind Draft – Going Against My Grain

Mind Draft –

Going Against My Grain

My head is agonizing. Stop.

Oh, cerebellum’s poised to pop.

Both ears exceedingly do toll,

As spasms rack me scalp to sole.

Relief does dally, tempt, and taunt –

A million menaces me haunt.

But brain’s bane blast bids me beyond

Where misery brings bolder bond.

I dare not trust my own two eyes,

A-blinded by such compromise.

Lo, cold is hot, and heat is chill,

As nothing aims to fit the bill.

I pray for death and wait to stand,

To gain my ground and upper hand.

Elusive comfort spins the clock,

And my mortality may mock.

What wonders whirl for blessed souls

Who walk without such fiery coals?

What gems appear when swells shall cease?

I’ll carry them in every crease.

c2018 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Image:

Public Domain Photo

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