A Banterous Ode to Tablemat

Lines weaved left right overlapped
Generating a pattern for a tablemat
Its formulation stares at me as I type these words
Onto the screen as my eyes unravel worlds

The tablemat is envious that my fingers stroke the keyboard
Wonders why its only purpose is to keep tables from being scorched
Well mat, I didn’t invent you but I could give you a new function
How would you like to be placed under my computer’s power-button?

Would that give you a sense of ‘use’ and shut your helpless cries?
Would that response be considered as me trying to empathise?
I only ask because tablemat, I do not speak your tongue
And it is not because I have not tried… it’s because you don’t have one…

 

MG

 

 

 

(Wrote an ode to a tablemat because it felt unappreciated
and in order for it to ‘learn’ graditiude
I ‘appreciated’ it through a thankful tribute) 

One Minute

“How has your writing been lately?” she asked.

“Not so good…” he said.

“Why’s that?” she took an interest.

“Writer’s Block…” he played victim, blaming state-of-mind.

She feigned ignorance, trying hard to empathize. “What’s that?” she responded with a question.

“When a writer is blocked and can’t think of ideas,” he didn’t pick up on her sarcasm.

“What’s it like to be blocked for ideas?” This was not rhetorical.

As a writer, Olivia had never found it hard to come up with ideas to write about; whether those ideas are well-received is another matter altogether. However, the sheer simplicity of generating an idea has never been an impossibility for her, so as much as she had wanted to relate, Olivia was nonetheless faced with inability to truly understand Oliver’s struggle.

In the minute it had taken Oliver to express himself, Olivia’s mind had elicited about five realizations. One, it was that she took herself for granted far too often. Two, it was gratitude of not being plagued with Oliver’s brand of “struggle”. Three, she felt bad for her friend, who could not seem to overcome a mental block. Four, she thanked her younger self for the discipline that had been instilled in her life as well as her writing. Last but not least, it was in this small moment that she realized the true power in self-commitment.

One minute.
Five revelations.

His whining was her enlightenment.

MG