Tag: unrhymed poetry

• Sobriquet

  Duck and cover.
  So much passive aggression, incoming,
  steeped in your morning hello.
  
  Curves in your body language malign and sear like barbed wire
  beneath a surface of cool still water.

  Gently, I’m under fire, taking flack from side-eye artillery.
  No bayonets or grenades in sight;
  simply a coffee cup clutched in a manicured hand.
  I shiver in your shade.
  
  Chin to the ground, pressed under the heavy fog of war,
  an illusion of retreat, of victory, but
  I’m pinned down.
  You Tokyo Rose.
  
  Smooth talker, whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
  You, with the smile of an enemy, sounding so very much like a friend.

  by D. Ryan Lafferty

  DartanionPress.com

  August 6, 2025

  poem, poetry, unrhymed poetry

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• Dream Makers

  When we go to bed, they are just arriving, hot coffee in their hands, stretching and yawning as the machinery in the warehouse switches on.

  Deep in the heart of the cerebellum, they rush into action, 
  for they are pros, each waving scanners and tapping single handedly on keypads, racing from stack to stack.

  They are honey bees,
  fervently dancing from aisle to aisle as they touch and go. 
  Some robotic counterparts assist, for they can access the hard to reach corners for the little things: names of hamsters and of goldfish long departed, the faces of great uncles on his father’s side, nothing too heavy.

  Rented vans filled with half-sleeping monsters are just arriving. 
  They scratch away the tiredness with their chipped claws 
  and groan at the prospect of another long night’s work. 
  Some check their teeth in the mirror while others tighten up the laces on their tennis shoes, getting ready for the chase. 

  The fears and nightmares are the best sellers 
  followed only by dreams for a better world. 
  I don’t mean wishes for peace and prosperity, of course, but rather for a kitchen and bath that belong on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens. 
  The kind we see on TV, covered in all the amenities of the good life. 

  Dreams from our younger days lie in the farthest corner, gathering dust, 
  rarely ever observed in the hustle. 
  Free overnight shipping keeps things hopping around here.

  It’s rumored that full automation is on the horizon and that, 
  one day soon, drones will do it all. Too many accidents are slipping through the cracks these days and dreams that were never intended for some are delivered by mistake. Most people notice the error and return them right away, 
  but one group is beginning to cause concern.

  It seems that when the artists happen to receive the wrong merchandise; 
  they’re never willing to send it back. 
  No matter how many times we call.

  by D. Ryan Lafferty

  Note. Originally published in the People Papers column, Literary Crumbs, February, 2024.

  DartanionPress.com

  February 2, 2024

  amazon, amazon shopping, art, artist poetry, artists, creative writing, dream, dreams, gig economy, imagine, independent poet, modern living, poem, poems, poems about amazon, poems about artists, poetry, prosaic, thegoodlife, unrhymed, unrhymed poetry, warehouses

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• Divine Geometry

  How is it that the bend of her tail fit so perfectly in the crook of my arm?
  Her nose, chin, and whiskers tucked into the palm of my hand.
  That long shaggy ear draped over the side of her sweet, aging, puppy dog face.
  Her soft coat like an heirloom throw, pearled and even;
  handwoven patterns aligned in a timeless harmony.
  We rested so soundly, as if it were meant to be.

  by D. Ryan Lafferty

  DartanionPress.com

  December 7, 2023

  Bordentown, content, dogs, local poet, lyrics, new poetry, NJ, pet poems, pets, poem, poems, poetry, puppy poetry, unrhymed poetry

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• In Plain Sight

  I’ve come to admire the quiet audacity of the Easter egg.
  So confidently silent and obnoxiously bright,
  barely hidden in plain sight, with the same bold certainty 
  so strong within the very young
  before life has cracked and tarnished their shells

  They wait, poised before the basket-wielding,
  screaming throng of toddlers, as if to say, 

  “Hey you, over there with your embarrassment of riches!
  You, who own so much, yet see so little.
  I’ll hide right here in the midst of all your things; 
  among the tulips, the lilac, the daffodils, 
  and I just dare you to find me.”

  Such beautiful, uppity, audacious eggs, indeed.

  by D. Ryan Lafferty DartanionPress.com

  June 22, 2023

  #poem, audacious eggs, easter poem, funny poem, poem, poetry, unrhymed poetry

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• Ladybug

  On a yawning Sunday afternoon,
  a ladybug shuffled across my field of view.

  A faithless pilgrim setting out upon the spackled-plaster
  winter wastes of my bedroom ceiling.

  I watched her, inching along, as I rested within a feathery shell
  folded from my down comforter.

  Surely someone has already written this poem down,
  for here is the perfect place to reflect upon the size, scope, and perspective of life,
  the power of love, and the nature of existence itself.

  Not to mention identity, pronouns, and the brevity of living.

  The color fading from her shell betrays the truth in this November sun,
  but I instead turn my thoughts to the poem that I was certain she had been writing
  about me.

  Here she sees yet another pitiful giant burrowed so deeply in his feathered nest,
  sleeping away the embarrassment of riches granted him by Father Time.

  She pauses for a moment, taking it all in, then shrugs and sighs.

  Her focus never leaving those lazy thought-filled eyes — they watch her in genuine malaise as she lives her best life, one spite-filled centimeter at a time.

  by D. Ryan Lafferty

  DartanionPress.com

  April 22, 2023

  nature, perspective, poem, poems, poetry, reflection, thoughfulness, unrhymed poetry

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• Know it All

  I wish that I could say I was sorry to interrupt you,
  but you were using the wrong fork for this course of the meal.

  And, by the way, that crystal glass of Riesling should be held by the stem,
  rather than being warmed by the delicate palm of your hand.

  I just needed to share that corned beef and cabbage, even Saint Patrick himself,
  weren’t really Irish at all… for whatever that means.

  It was all I could do to remind you that the word you chose
  to end that last sentence with was, in fact, a preposition.

  I thought it absolutely essential that I tell you that root beer is nothing like
  sarsaparilla or that the stringy white webbing that you’re tearing away from your
  orange contains all of the bioflavonoids, the most nutritious part of the fruit.
  In fact, citrus oils themselves are known to spark the creative imagination,
  or so studies have shown.

  For anyone else, my love, I’d have just rolled my eyes,
  but for you, I’ll take the time.

  by D. Ryan Lafferty

  DartanionPress.com

  April 22, 2023

  poem, poems, poetry, unrhymed poetry

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• Puppeteering

  Tiny puppet masters prop themselves up
  just above the other toys,
  the playthings elite.

  For they are special, certainly better than the rest.

  Superior grins stretch from ear to stenciled ear,
  adorning hollow faces.

  They rise, then bend and dip in such lifelike motion.

  Well-worn joints creak and moan as they bow, then rise again.
  Believing, without question, that they are the ones pulling the strings.

  by D. Ryan Lafferty

  DartanionPress.com

  April 22, 2023

  poem, poems, poetry, puppets, unrhymed poems, unrhymed poetry

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• Cross-Country

  I’d walk along this path at work during lunchtime,
  a trail set aside for the students to run cross-country track. 

  Each day emerging from my hermetically sealed cocoon,
  shedding the artifice of the locked-down environment.
  The breezeless corridors, a bland interior, the color of composition paper;
  a dingy white with several hints of blue and one sparingly dangerous red line.

  My first days upon the trail felt so foreign to me.

  I was excited to roam beyond the tree line
  and find a hidden pond beneath the canopy,
  whose stillness reflected the scene in a placid mirror, suddenly ruptured
  by the abrupt shriek and awkward flop of a frog.
  
  I must have startled him.
  His ungraceful yawp betrayed his composure.

  He leapt out of instinct rather than cunning,
  embarrassingly shocked by my approach.

  I too was surprised, that such a mistake could even be made.
  For, who could possibly be ambushed by me?

  Throat clearing, heavily breathing, plodding along in my collared shirt and tie.

  My dress shoes slapping the earth as I lumbered along
  with all of the grace of an infant elephant bounding down that path.

  Was he caught unawares daydreaming?
  Maybe heavy nictitating eyelids closed for too long a moment
  as he dreamed of a better pond where fish and tadpole swim together.
  A vision of unity shattered by bored, unthinking me.

  A hint of belonging crept into my mind…
  Maybe I’m not so far-gone after all. Not too removed from this natural state.

  My presence wasn’t so disruptive as I’d imagined it to be.
  I too still daydream, can be surprised, and nod off to sleep from time to time.

  As I mulled this over in my mind I rounded one more bend. 

  A napping bird jolted into life, ungracefully squawked
  and bounded to the earth once again as I’d surprised another neighbor,
  like the apex predator that I am.

  by D. Ryan Lafferty

  DartanionPress.com

  April 22, 2023

  hiking, nature, nature poem, nature trail, outdoors, poem, poetry, school break, teacher in nature, thoughts in nature, unrhymed poetry, walking, walking in nature, walks

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• Inter Arma Silent Leges

  (In time of war, law falls silent) – Cicero

  Even Caesar would lament the apparent wisdom of these words,
  for who can deny the failings of human nature?

  More observation than advice really.

  Despite the deafening clamor that rises from the red-handed mobs
  and their hasty misdeeds, the law is far from silent during times of crisis.

  Yes, she speaks softly, dragging behind her a big stick, or is it a willow switch?  
  One that her mother made her cut from a tree in the front yard.

  She has never fallen silent; it’s simply not her way.
  Her words are clear, deliberate, equally ringing in every ear.

  The blindfold makes it difficult to catch up,
  but every step brings her closer to the truth.
  
  Consequences often arrive delayed,
  hungry and unshaven, delighted to sleep, at last,
  in their own beds.  

  By D. Ryan Lafferty

  DartanionPress.com

  April 22, 2023

  1/6 poem, consequences, consequences and repercussions, Jan 6th, poem, poems, poetry, unrhymed poetry

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• Sense of Smell

  They say the sense of smell is the strongest sense tied to memory.
  It’s easy to believe it too. 

  I inhale, my mind sputters, and I’m at home as if in a time machine from some iconic 80s movie.

  Decadent steam fills my mind as it rises
  from a golden stack of Dad’s buttermilk pancakes,
  poured directly from the lovingly grease-stained pages of The Joy of Cooking.

  Dark sugary top notes of warm caramel
  give way to an aromatic avalanche of pan-fried bacon,
  blackened to my mother’s taste.

  A whiff of her coffee wakes me from this fragrant dream.

  Alone, no longer seven years old,
  and driving to work while sipping on my own bitter roast.
  Once again heading into the office where everything smells like bargain Pine sol,
  laser-warmed toner, and cheaply painted drywall;
  all of which remind me of nothing at all.

  by D. Ryan Lafferty

  DartanionPress.com

  April 22, 2023

  adulting, breakfast, growing up, memories, poem, poems, poetry, sensory, unrhymed poetry

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