At Writers’ Bloc, five terrific poems were passed around for comments. Two of them were mine. Kudos to SP and TC. Tomorrow during Superbowl halftime and maybe before, I will read again the copies I brought home and savor them as the predictable top flight creations they are; like a rotisserie chicken from Schnuck’s [...]
Archive for January, 2009
Sixty-Minute Patriot
Posted in writing on January 31, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
A Civil Way to Go
Posted in writing on January 30, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Yesterday, I received a call from the bank that I was OVERDRAWNDANGIT! I understand most people reading this go for decades, forever even, without bouncing a check, but I measure my time in months. It’s always “crunch” time late in the month for me, but considering how few checks I write, this business of keeping [...]
I Am Awash in Jubilation
Posted in writing on January 29, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
If I had a job, which I don’t, I would have compromised my work efficiency rating by calling in “sick” this week so I could witness with my ears, the incredible history that played out over the airwaves (some on WGN but most on WUIS) as the people of the state of Illinois bade a [...]
Coffee at 10:30
Posted in writing on January 27, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
If I were making meaningful money, I’d be having a lot more fun settling into my new routine. The past few weeks have been incredibly productive in wrong directions, all aviation and poetry related. At Saturday’s Writers’ Block meeting a friend asked me if I had considered writing for the Chicago Tribune as a stringer. [...]
Of Arrow Sock and Soul — a poem
Posted in arts, writing on January 25, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
I’ve been fiddling with fonts and cutting and pasting here, and the result is inconsistent font appearance. Sorry for the variations. It is all intended to be Times New Roman.
Of Arrow Sock and Soul
By Job Conger
written Friday, January 23, 6:18 pm
Traversing boldly
through time and space
to the purgatory of the lost:
arrows shot into the [...]
From the Bowl With the Submerged Tiny Castle Resting on Sand — a poem
Posted in arts, writing on January 25, 2009 | 1 Comment »
Here is the first of two poems I wrote after a long poem hiatus.
From the Bowl With the Submerged Tiny Castle Resting on Sand
By Job Conger
written 4:52 pm, Friday, January 23, 2009
“How sad, my
three-second
memory,”
“How sad, my
three-second
memory,”
“How sad, my
three-second
memory,”
“How sad, my
three-second
memory,”
“How sad, my
three-second
memory,”
wrote the gold
fish poet.
– I timed the quoted words with the second hand on [...]
Move Prisoners From Guantanamo to Wake Island
Posted in writing on January 25, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
During the Sunday news’hows, there was talk of moving the nastiest prisoners at “Gitmo” in Cuba to the Alcatraz Prison State Historic Site of California. As Speaker Nancy Pelosi, who is no slouch, pointed out, Alcatraz is not a prison; it’s a tourist attraction. The merit to the idea, which Pelosi and others have not [...]
Twenty-minute Patriot
Posted in arts on January 24, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
The events of the week have led me to reconnect with a group of Springfield writers who gather every Saturday morning at Trout Lily Cafe on downtown Sixth Street half a block south (east side of the street) from the Old State Capitol Building. We’re informal, but the name of the group is Writers’ Bloc. [...]
Deadline Met
Posted in writing on January 24, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
I can’t tell you what I wrote for the next issue of Springfield Business Journal because if I did, the State Journal-Register would know — at least one REAL writer from that fine daily has been known to look in on this “motley phoo” — and after that one of their writers could trump me [...]
A Funny Thing Happened on my way to the Post Office
Posted in writing on January 20, 2009 | 4 Comments »
Some months ago I described how God must have been sitting on my shoulder when I was moved by the Spirit to check the kitchen on a whim after I had turned on a faucet that had frozen overnight. While I had puttered in the office, the pipe had thawed and had filled my sink [...]
