This is an experiment for me...and the first blog I've ever set up. What you will see is poetry, comments on books, my current state of mind...and I'd love to hear comments from you...but be nice...
Forks laughed as the spoons and knives went into hiding Locking the door the broom closet nearly swept them away A musty dust pan jumped off its hook and caught them in time Light grew dark and time grew small as the Closet seemed to be filling in Until there was nothing left but a closet corner As the dust pan stood on its stumpy foot With the spoons and knives hiding at the bottom of its open mouth They could hear the forks bending and twisting each other For just the right key hole fit But then darkness flipped to light It was one minute past midnight A mangle of forks dropped. Father was looking for ice cream. "Kids!", he shouted, looking at the mess on the floor They sleepily slept down the stairs, looking at each other "Not us", they muttered simultaneously, and slept back up the stairs The man opened a carton of ice cream Opened the silverware drawer and discovered The spoons and knives were missing.
Here's an older piece...from my "Unfoldings" collection.
I do not question why
Of flowers written deadly When tongues begin to fly I write no longer friendly When ships go floating by I wash the tongues of nectarines I wash them when they're dry With fruit flies sanding submarines I do not question why.
I'll go to bed, to bed, he said But then he watched tv instead Not counting sheep, not counting sleep The chance of getting sleep seemed steep To sleep a peep, to sleep a peep He had some chamomile steep A sip a snore a sip a snore A sip a slip of sleep some more.
Here's a recent short story...more like a poem.
ReplyDeleteMidnight to 12:01
Forks laughed as the spoons and knives went into hiding
Locking the door the broom closet nearly swept them away
A musty dust pan jumped off its hook and caught them in time
Light grew dark and time grew small as the
Closet seemed to be filling in
Until there was nothing left but a closet corner
As the dust pan stood on its stumpy foot
With the spoons and knives hiding at the bottom of its open mouth
They could hear the forks bending and twisting each other
For just the right key hole fit
But then darkness flipped to light
It was one minute past midnight
A mangle of forks dropped.
Father was looking for ice cream.
"Kids!", he shouted, looking at the mess on the floor
They sleepily slept down the stairs, looking at each other
"Not us", they muttered simultaneously, and slept back up the stairs
The man opened a carton of ice cream
Opened the silverware drawer and discovered
The spoons and knives were missing.
Denis Streeter 5/7/10
So glad you're doing this, Denis!! Can't wait to see what results.
ReplyDeleteHere's an older piece...from my "Unfoldings" collection.
ReplyDeleteI do not question why
Of flowers written deadly
When tongues begin to fly
I write no longer friendly
When ships go floating by
I wash the tongues of nectarines
I wash them when they're dry
With fruit flies sanding submarines
I do not question why.
Denis Streeter
Here's one I wrote about six weeks ago.
ReplyDeleteA sleepy rhyme
I'll go to bed, to bed, he said
But then he watched tv instead
Not counting sheep, not counting sleep
The chance of getting sleep seemed steep
To sleep a peep, to sleep a peep
He had some chamomile steep
A sip a snore a sip a snore
A sip a slip of sleep some more.
Denis Streeter
Your blog looks great,Denis! The design you chose is clean and sophisticated.Can't wait to see how you develop the site!
ReplyDelete