Tag Archives: poem

Toad

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Yeah, I tried to make it look like a toad [EDIT: the Reader, in its toadlike blandness, ate my formatting! Try opening the page itself if you want slightly less of a disapppointment]. Not my greatest success but I haven’t got much time so, you only get a sort-of toad. Toads are just shaped like gross little wads with feet, right?

 

 

Toad sits flatly
His wide mouth stretches open
Tongue like a water balloon hits a flying insect.
Toad is a predator
But how can something so floppy be a predator?
Predators are supposed to be agile, wicked, sharp of eye and tooth
But toad is weak, soft, walleyed, broad and flat.
He may jump high but when he lands he thuds like a bag of mud.
Pick him up and he wets himself, really embarrassing.
His mouth is a bottomless hole
His stomach eternally stretches
And when he sings
All he says is
brrap             brrap

 

 

 

 

The Gift you Share

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In response to the prompt by Singledust at GoDogGo Cafe.

For the record, this isn’t the best gift I give my friends (I really hope not). I’m probably not a great gift giver, because when I thought back, all I could remember were things I’d received. Also, this was the first thing I thought of that wouldn’t come across too sappy.

 

 

 

Hannah is back from a trip.

She hands me a little jar of jam as a souvenir,

Shy and anxious.

“Do you like it?”

 

We are at an outdoor festival

But I am not feeling well, so I choose to sit down under a shady tree.

My sisters look worried.

“Can we bring you anything?”

 

Visiting at my dad’s house

Our stepmother has never had daughters before now.

She is unsure about her new role.

“Can I take you all out for a girls’ day?”

 

To receive

To let someone else make you happy

Is also a gift

 

 

 

 

The Song of My People

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I sing a song of white privilege

A song of sunscreen and tomato sandwiches

A song of diet Cokes and Virginia Slims

I sing a song of chocolate chip cookies baked at midnight

Of Hershey’s nuggets

And meat with dinner every night

Of running down gravel roads, falling, and picking tiny rocks out of bloody palms

A song of homeschooling with a stay at home mom

Of please, and thank you, and Dear Lord

Of sit up straight

Of VHS tapes and shareware DOS games

Of Vivaldi and King James

Of Laurel and Hardy, and Scarface

Of Taily Bone on cassette, and Grimm’s Fairy Tales in hardback

Books and books and books and books

Wading the cold creek barefoot, the rocks don’t hurt after your feet go numb

Catching fireflies in the yard at dusk

More books, late into the night

Whoa, your dad’s house is huge! Are you rich?

Of exploring the woods

Dog bounding ahead, cats padding behind

My own secret church in a fallen tree

When I marvelled at life and wondered what I was,

A song with a touch of existential crisis

And even then

A nagging sense of guilt

 

 

 

Genesis

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Inspired by Word of the Day prompt.

 

 

I am

a spider-smear on the wall

a tired little sigh from an old lady on the bus

gum on the sidewalk

 

transparent

 

Then you turn your head and look at me

You can see me.

I look down at my new hands

I am a woman, with such hands as these?

Is this shining hair my own?

And these strong legs carrying my weight?

I daren’t look in the mirror yet.

Not until you prove my face real

with a kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

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