Darrell Petska is a retired university engineering editor and a two-time Pushcart Prize nominee. His poetry appears in Verse-Virtual, 3rd Wednesday Magazine, Soul-Lit, Amethyst Review, and widely elsewhere (conservancies.wordpress.com). A father of five and grandfather of six, he lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with his wife of more than 50 years.

Order in the Poem, Please!

The vowels really got into it yesterday,
preventing me from completing my work.
(My consonants hardly ever fight—it’s always
the vowels: so competitive!) A and E happen to be
the biggest troublemakers, E lording its popularity
over A, who insists he’s cited, for good reason,
first in the listing of vowels. Fortunately,
O and U were canoodling off to the side:
two fewer problems to contend with.

Tempers might’ve cooled had the jealous I
not observed that A’s sharp tongue warranted
demotion in said vowel listing—prompting both
A’s summary dismissal of I’s argument as excessive
vanity, and E’s reminder of his own primacy over I.
If only sweet C had been on the scene,
but sadly she wasn’t. Such an annoyance.
Hey! I’ve heard enough! being A’s parting dig at E,
who is overly sensitive when A sneaks into E’s words.

All the commotion roused the Good Neighbor
Committee. Chairman Q capably shushed
the combatants, then Y, the committee’s mediator
(since the vowels tend to consider Y almost
one of them) proposed all parties sleep on their
differences and come back in the morning,
refreshed and ready to work. Unfortunately,
last night O and U had a lover’s spat. At this rate,
my poems may never be published.

Two Flies Sit Chatting on the Wall

Have you ever wondered why this blue wall
feels better than that yellow one?
What’s with spiders, anyway?
Sometimes I feel like everything is spinning.
Life seems so...
I’d simply die for some day-old steak.
Life seems so...leg-to-mouth.
Could there be something more than...
What’s with those giants, anyway?
Some days, I feel like I’ll go mad if I don’t
get out of this house.
Ho humdrummy dum.
You annoy me sometimes.
Maybe we should go our separate ways.
We’ll never make it out of here alive.
If you could choose anything to eat
before you’re swatted, what would it be?
What’s with earwigs, anyway?
Lately, reception with my antennae has been terrible.
I’ve got it: let’s arrange our specks in the shape of
something lasting and meaningful, like…
Or buzz at different frequencies to create…
Yellow’s such a libido killer, know what I mean?
This wall is blue.

When Words Fail: Twenty Tips

Torture them till they sing.
Reshuffle and lay them out again.
Dissect them: there’s always more beneath the surface.
Don’t cry: who’s the boss?
Look at them 13 different ways.
Leave them alone: they might come home.
Throw them against a different wall to see if they’ll stick.
Treat them like they’re a joke. Maybe they are.
Try adding some spice.
Take them along on your next hike.
Freeze them for a later date.
Challenge them to a fight.
Make them your appetizer at happy hour.
Sleep on them.
Write them off as a business expense.
Be understanding: maybe they’ve done their best.
Sometimes it’s better to let sleeping words lie.
It’s not do or die: find a bartending job.
Don’t sweat the details: 19 is almost 20.