Poetry - The Slow Doodle

The Slow Doodle

April 5th, 2026

A smudge of gold,
a cloud of cream,
A living, breathing, waking dream.
Not hurried by the ticking clock,
Or startled by the doorbell's knock.
He moves in rhythms all his own,
The gentlest soul the world has known.

He wanders where the clover grows,
With sunlight dancing on his nose.
A lazy sway, a soulful gaze,
Lost in a golden, summer haze.

While others race to catch the ball,
He pauses for the leaf-fall's call,
Finding joy in a sudden breeze,
Or a quiet nap beneath the trees.

No frantic pace, no hurried stride,
Just a heart open, yawning wide.
A master of the art of still,
Who lingers long upon the hill.

Oh, smudge of gold, oh, cream-colored light,
You make the rushing world feel right.
For in your slow and steady art,
You found the shortcut to the heart.

--team clicko 🐾

The Slow Doodle and the Kontrolerchek

June 9th, 2026

A smudge of gold on the 8:15,
The slowest commuter you've ever seen,
He boards at Mineola, calm and proud,
A cream-colored dream in the rush-hour crowd.

For years he had perfected his art,
The soulful gaze, the open heart,
One lazy sway, one gentle yawn,
And the kontrolerchek would just move on.

No ticket needed, no fare to show,
Who'd punch the paw of a doodle so slow?
He'd melt the sternest conductor's frown
Somewhere between Carle Place and town.

But oh, the times have changed, my friend,
The paper ticket met its end.
Now there's an app, a QR code,
A scanner beeping down the road.

The kontrolerchek, with tablet bright,
Is immune to fluff and golden light.
"Activate before you board!"
But doodle paws can't tap that hoard.

He tried the gaze, the scanner blinked.
He tried the yawn, the new guy winked,
Then said, "That's sweet, but rules are rules,
The MTA has modern tools."

So now he schemes beneath the seat,
A mastermind on velvet feet:
Perhaps if I just nap right here,
By Jamaica I might disappear...

Or board so slow, so very slow,
The doors will close, the train will go,
And time itself will lose the thread
Of whether my fare was ever read.

The kontrolerchek walks up the aisle,
The doodle greets him with a smile,
And somewhere past Woodside, it's true,
The tablet dies. The doodle knew.

For apps may crash and codes expire,
But golden patience doesn't tire.
The rushing world can scan and clock,
The Slow Doodle outslows the system's lock.

Oh, smudge of gold on the morning train,
Outsmarting progress, sweet and plain,
Grand Central's vault can't hold a heart
That mastered slow as its highest art.

--team clicko 🐾