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Open Poetry #10
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Dr.Moose1
Member Elite
since 1999-09-05
Posts 3448
Bewilderment , USA

0 posted 2000-10-10 09:53 PM


Their features drawn from frantic pace
as swift they move from place to place
they have no time for hearth or home
a race I call the Metro-Gnomes

Their lives a blur of harried needs
performed at ever faster speeds
to them mere efforts are as nil
a pace compared to standing still

At times when our paths intersect
I note what long has been suspect
when viewed from just the right direction
the mirror holds but one reflection

As days fast-forward out of sight
this Metro-Gnome bids you good-night



© Copyright 2000 William E.Kleist - All Rights Reserved
Irish Rose
Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263

1 posted 2000-10-10 10:08 PM


This is a very interesting poem, I have to confess I didn't quite understand it, but it's the most unusual I've read this evening.

Kathleen


Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648

2 posted 2000-10-10 10:55 PM


We all get caught up in the crazy rat race of life, don't we? It's good every now and again to slow down a bit. I'll try that in work tomorrow and see if I still have a job at the end of the day.....hehehe

Great writing, as always, Dr. Moose!  

Denise

Dr.Moose1
Member Elite
since 1999-09-05
Posts 3448
Bewilderment , USA
3 posted 2000-10-11 05:07 PM


Irish Rose,
Thanks , I'll take "unusual" as a compliment
anytime. This started out as an observation on the hectic pace some people lead , when I realized that it pretty much summed up my life these days. Tick-Tock .
Doc
d,
Geesh, don't do that ! I wouldn't want to be the cause of your un-employment ! Thanks.
Doc

Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648

4 posted 2000-10-11 07:28 PM


Well, I tried, Doc, but it didn't work...hehehe...I'm just a slave to doing a job the right way, I guess!  

Denise

Andrew Scott
Member Elite
since 1999-06-24
Posts 2558
Redlands,CA,USA
5 posted 2000-10-12 06:34 PM


The metro gnome that I did meet
Was inches shy six of two feet
Upon the train sat next to me
With a sad look for all to see

His job it seemed had him depressed
His suit and tie too starched and pressed
His shoes he cursed for toes in pinch
His life he said was one big qlich

I said to gnome who I had seen
"What good the end if these the means?"
"Throw off the suit!  Throw off the tie!"
"Kick off those shoes!  Tell boss good by!"

The metro gnome is now happy
The fact it is so plain to me
Every morning to work I'm gone
He's there to see, right on the lawn

Playing amongst ceramic friends
A far better means to the end

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