Poetry

“Someone’s Wishes” Poetry Prompt – 28/8/17

First day on the job,
Walking into the wish factory,
Caught my dream job,
Working on the purple planet,
Into the factory floor full with violets
and puffed clouds from the ventilation.
I’ve never made a wish come true,
Been on the collection team a times or two,
Scooping out the wishes from the atmosphere,
Microphones tuned to catch the words, ‘I wish’,
Endless flying, a little tiring after a time,
Especially on foggy days.
My resume was filled with sky racing and
Apple seeding.
How could I have got this job?
Ma said I’d never been made to corral the desks and papers,
But I hankered after the smooth and sweet
While fixing my engines and chopping the sky.
So today when I wander in
It’s with starry eyes.
Joe claps me on the shoulder,
Joe’s my new boss.
Says he’s got a desk just for me,
And walks me through the rounded floor to a corner,
Makes me sit.
Very simple,
Take the paper,
Read it,
And make a wish come true.
He claps me again and strides out.
Well. I grin. Looks like I’m a desk sitter after all!
First paper,
Surprised I glance again,
Looks like it’s from the boss’s son,
Joe’s kid.
He’s written from a smaller planet to the left,
I think it’s orange,
And quite small.
Written in a scribble, the boys were in a hurry that day,
Says, wish I were a wish collector.

 

-zu

Written from a prompt by Teresa Creations Blog.

Previous poems, “Radiant Sunrise” two word prompt – 24/8/17

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One Poem Every Day, Poetry

A few nonsensical poems from a hilarious day – 14/7/17

Do you suppose in autumn, all the trees are saying,
I cannot be-leaf it, this year I was praying,
For my leaves not to leaf me,
Yet here I am, a bear tree.
* * * *
Damn the roses saith the man
As he liftth the watering can.
* * * *
If I had a verandah,
I would put my Aunt Miranda,
on it.
And she would knit
and sit
and knit some more.
-zu
Poetry, What A Fish Thinks

Augustus Writes a Poem!

Herein is a poem that I wrote as Augustus The Fish, go check it out! Keep in mind that it’s Augustus’s very first poem, so he probably needs a lot of encouragement! 😂

For any that don’t know, Augustus is my alter ego. I write as Augustus The Fish on the blog What a Fish Thinks for my job at the Age of Fishes Museum. Augustus is a cantankerous fish who is secretly lovely underneath it all, and who cares a lot about how humans treat fish. He would love your support! 

 

I have never written a poem before. Cecily, unfortunately, has written thousands, and has been pestering me to let her post one. I refused. Instead I decided to write my own poem, which adheres to …

Source: Augustus Writes a Poem!

One Poem Every Day, Poetic Prose

No. 177 “None of this makes any sense” – 31/5/16

As I walk into the bathroom I am scared by the brown shower curtain rinsing in the abandoned bath water,

It looks like a giant sea monster, probably octopus, encased in resin,

So still and quiet, the bracken brown folds trapped in light blue water.

Later in the kitchen, my face is reflected awkwardly back from the shiny silver sauce pan,

That I have never made a sauce in.

I feel melancholy because I do not have any favourite words that bounce out of my mouth quietly fanning themselves into the world.

None of this makes sense, but maybe… when the clouds float apple green and sunshine turns to wispy marshmallow when it hits the ground.

Somewhere, sometime, this must make sense,

To have a sea monster in my bath, and a sauce pan that is used for soup.

But not here. Right here. Right now.

Here is a soft moment in the fabric of time, where it all seems to have rubbed thin,

And the universe is bottle blue, collecting momentum, as it rolls down a green hill towards a field of daisies,

Snapping the single thread,

That held this poem together.

-zu

Follow for One Poem Every Day! 

Ahem, yes, well. I seem to have given up in my idea of never posting a poem that wasn’t ‘good’. I have plenty of poems that, well, what makes a poem good anyway? This could be the best poem you’ve read all day (have you only read one poem today?) or the loudest, depending on how you read it. Art is subjective and poetry even more so (now I’m just trying to sound clever). I’m reminded of another poem, by Wendell Berry, a quote from it goes: 

Any readers
who like your poems,
doubt their judgment.  

And on that note, goodnight!