Poems by Duane Anderson

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In the Eyes of the Carpet

Day in and day out
you walk across my face,
for that is the only part of me you can see
as my back lies against the floor.

I guess that is what my life is all about,
people walking across me all the time,
but when you do, I kindly suggest going
barefoot or stocking foot over wearing shoes.

I guess I am picky that way,
but I do like it when you vacuum me each week,
and steam clean me every so often,
liking my hygiene as much as the next one.

Go ahead and walk on me,
prance on me, dance on me.
I am here to cushion your feet
and add warmth to the room,

but if you don’t mind,
try varying your path,
as not to wear a rut down on any part
of me making me thread bare.

My family history has been known
for male pattern baldness,
and I like to maintain a healthy image,
one of being well groomed at all times.


 

In the Eyes of the Moon

You sometimes make fun of me
as you bend over and drop your pants,
disrespecting me and my name.

I try on maintaining the same shape,
keeping fit and trim as best as I can, yet from earth,
you see me from a different perspective,

sometimes as a quarter moon, half moon,
full moon, but I model for a living these days,
let me know which of my poses you like best?

When you come for a visit,
which is indeed a very rare occurrence,
you always leave some space debris on my surface,

though much less than what you do to your own planet,
and I am still waiting for you to return
to clean up all of your messes.

Moon to earth, earth to moon,
get into your spaceship and come back for a visit,
let’s begin a conversation to settle our little differences.


 

In the Eyes of a Turn Signal

I was told I had a purpose in life,
that of letting one know that the car I was in
was going to turn right or turn left
at the next street corner,
or maybe making a lane change.
Here I am, ready to be turned on,
but I may have to teach many of you,
for it is a fact I am rarely used,
and I prefer an active life style.

I am not getting the healthy workout I deserve,
and could really use some robust exercise,
so do your civic duty by turning me on
when performing one of these tasks.
The one driving behind you
will be appreciative of this effort,
and just maybe, less likely to give
that grand old middle finger when you
look into your rearview mirror.


 

In the Eyes of an Oscar Mayer Hotdog

As the song goes
“Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Mayer hotdog”,
but not me,
I never wanted to be one
for after I’m loved,
I will be eaten,
then they will forget the meaning of my death
except for an occasional belch.


 

In the Eyes of the Emergency Room

Walk through my doors,
into my welcoming arms.
I know you aren’t feeling well,
and did not really wish to visit me,
but here you are, and here I am,
waiting to take special care of you.
We will take you based on the severity
of your needs, then in order of arrival,
in case things get too busy.

Check in with one of our nurses,
then it’s off to the triage room
to add to our knowledge of today’s issues
before taking you to another room
for tests and a visit from the doctor.
We are always hoping for a positive outcome,
not wanting to see any repeat customers,
though you will never be turned away
even if you treat us like a revolving door.


 

About the Author

Duane Anderson currently lives in La Vista, NE.  He has had poems published in Fine Lines, Cholla Needles, Tipton Poetry Journal, Modern Literature, and several other publications. He is the author of  ‘On the Corner of Walk and Don’t Walk,’ and ‘The Blood Drives: One Pint Down,’ and ‘Conquer the Mountains.’