Author: Matt

  • A quiet honor

    A Veterans Day poem They leave without fanfare,packing pieces of themselves in duffel bags,donning courage like an old coat,that few could wear as well as them. Faded memories of home,are carried in their heartsover the land and the sea,        through heat and the cold,        through the thunderous cacophony of war,and the silence that follows. Who can say…

  • Parents

    i know more than they think i doand i dont need their adviceif only my parents would listenand just leave me alone for a second    or a day or a week they are busy doing adult thingslike paying the bills and doing my laundrybuying my food and telling me i have to showerlike no shit i…

  • At the doctor’s office

    You think you’re a parent    But you slink to the side.While your child is wailing,    You just want to hide. Real parents get happy,    And filled up with mirth,Every time that there’s tears—    From the kid—after birth. It should recharge your strength,    When their eyes become wetter,You should laugh when they cry,    I bet you’ll feel better. When needles get prickly,    You…

  • Puzzling

    An upended box of pleasure        spills its dusty,        colorful chaos        on the table Hands desperately fight        for order,        flipping fragments        to expose their faces The fervent rush        to define the edge        is in stark contrast        to the relaxed calm that follows Of reconstructing,        in focused sections,        somebody else’s picture        as your own The final piece        sparks joy        and satisfaction        as it settles in its place And then it’s over.        Back to…

  • Poem for Maddie’s 8th grade graduation

    Maddie’s slightly salty,        Leaving PES behind,        It’s all she’s known,        And frankly,        It’s living rent-free in her mind. Dad and mom remind her,        That she isn’t throwing shade,        Upon her youth,        As she advances,        To a higher grade. “Just don’t be super extra,        As you start to find your way,        ‘Cause you gotta,        Pass the vibe check,        Or you’ll get dragged every day.” “Slaps are not the…

  • No tables

    James dislikes tables:“They belong in the clink!To hell with the sofa!Fuck off with the sink!” “This bed is just shit,And so is my ladder,I hate all carpets,And lamps, for that matter.” “I don’t need my toilet,That flower pot’s lame,Send them to gitmo,And take this dumb frame!” His homestead’s exactly,The same as his code,No <table>s around,Because…

  • A dangerous longing

    You invaded the tumultuousness of my mind,becoming a steadfast rock amidst the chaosthat describes my thoughts,breaking me so that all I could think about was you. I longed for your warmth.yearned to fall into the sweet serenity of contentment,with the taste of you filling my mouth,and your presence eradicating the emptiness I felt inside. As…

  • James’ lament (on PHP)

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    PHP 7 isn’t supported,Kinsta—through James—to #tec-dev, reported.“The old version’s gone—and though I sound whiney,8 is required. That timeline seems tiny.” The market is slow at adapting, it seems,Though time marches forward, it’s plugins and themes,That makes this all messy and feel sorta short,But, it’s right on schedule, I’m sad to report. See, PHP booted a…

  • Not children

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    My children, who are rapidly becoming not-children,Are both growing in ways I could never imagine,But traveling paths that I predicted from the moment I wasConvinced that I would have kids of my own. They are products of their parents, which is a blessing and a curse.They are funny and kind, but insular and too smart…

  • Scottish not Irish (Hunter’s lineage)

    I put away my green clothes,And traded them for tartan. My clover died,My luck’s run out,I’ve left my taters strewn about,And though it made me want to pout,I quit my river dancin’. As bagpipes play,Across the loch,I now use Gaelic when I talk,And pat the coos upon my walk,To join my Heeland Clan. For DNAUnveiled…

  • Grammy

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    Grammy is Montpelier.She is New Hampshire,Fairgrounds Road,And the Yellow House. She is Plymouth history.She is library books,Old photos,And farm antiques. She is fancy dishes,She is spilled milk towels,Reused foil,And paper napkins. Grammy is summer time,She is river picnics,Moonie swimming,And weeded flowers. She is outside work.She is wispy windrows,Stacked up bales,And Baker rinsing. She is tilled…

  • Lob Kragdigger

    With Orcish delight,Lob hefts his large blade—Five or more feet, And magically made. He charges and swings;A blood curdling cry,Erupts from his foe—Severed legs at the thigh. The Orc turns and strikes—And he’s spattered with red,As another poor sap,Has just lost his head. A wicked toothed grin,As the rest of them run,The battle is over,After turn…

  • Haying

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    Dry cut grassWindrowsClunk of the balerThe smell of dustPrickly armsHaphazard rows of balesStacked just soFilling the barnFamilyWorkSweatFriendsRiver

  • COVID (Hunter has no taste)

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    Everything tastes bad.My apple today tasted weird.I can’t enjoy butter on rolls.Why    does        my            life                suck?Forsaken by chocolate.COVID. This poem was inspired by a friend in Discord, who wrote: Friend:Everything tastes badMy apple today tasted weirdThe butter I used on the roll tasted grossMy hot chocolate tastes weird Me:I thought that was going to be a poem but it…

  • Poem for Sam’s 8th grade graduation

    Sam’s time has come         to graduate.Dad and Mom are proud. Has she tried her best?        Of course!“Huge props,” we’ll say aloud. Muscles, brains, a pen with ink,        And a little dash of “cool,”        Have brought her through her younger years,        To lead Sam to High School!

  • When evening comes

    When the last light of day,disappears from the sky,And the moon rises forth,to its place upon high, You’ll swaddle him tightly,and tuck him in bed,Then wish him sweet dreams,with a kiss on his head, Its moments like these,that’ll bring you such joy,And be thrilled you are blessed,with a sweet little boy, As you tiptoe away,you’ll…

  • Gutenberg (WordPress)

    George wielded his words like a time honored champ,Now devs will all flock to our Gutenberg camp,They’ll watch as we twiddle our plugins with glee,And cry a few tears with each alpha they see. Some curses and grumbles will trickle our way,But feedback is vital…well that’s what they say,Our posts will be nimble, we’ll iterate…

  • A response to a Pull Request

    I’ve pondered your code – deep in thought,Analyzing more than tr1b0t,In each line of change,Your code was not strange,So “Ship it” is all that I’ve got.

  • Fire truck

    I’ve sat and I’ve ponderedWhat you are without luckBut me? It’s too easy.I’m a red fire truck.