I Think

That I shall never see
a poem as lovely as, well, me!

Kidding, of course. I'm starting your poems though. First up is Megs, who requested a poem on our increasingly malfunctioning brains.

My brains are burned out, simply fried,
the gray between my ears has died.
I think a long, long time ago
that I was smart, but I don't know.
It seems to me I've always been
in this same zombie state I'm in.

For T. Anne, who requested something on the illusion of tomorrow:

"Tomorrow," I said,
"I'm staying in bed.
I'll write through the day
while my children play
without whine or fuss.
(The house they won't muss.)
And then when I'm done
writing just for fun
I'll get a book deal."
Oh, Kiersten, get real.

For Janey, who requested a poem on flirting:

Hand holding is nice,
and dating is fine
but nothing beats flirting--
it's simply divine!

For Debra, Laptop wanted to give this poem a shot, since she requested one on cranky, evil creatures:

My owner thinks she's brilliant
she pounds on me each day
and even when she shouldn't
still she taps away.

Someday I will teach her
a thing or two or three
She'll go to boot me up
and I'll just flash blankly.

"NO!" she'll scream in horror
as all her work erases
But me, I'll just be happy
and make emoticon faces.

: ) ; ) 8 P :-$

Whirl's and Anthony's when the kids give me another break...