Poetry Exercise 4

Carrying Cookie Crumbs

Look at all dem ants, walkin’ down dat tree,

each one luggin’ a crumb to the colony.

One’s got a chocolate chip,

Another’s carryin’ an oat,

and when dat lil’ boy came back

ain’t nuthin’ left fo’ his throat.

Look at this sad ol’ cookie— all that’s left is air.

All dat lil’ boy could do was sit, think, and stare.

If only he could take just one more nibble,

but of course life never seems to be so simple;

he don’t know how to bake, nor do he own any dimes.

I guess bein’ a lil’ kid can feel like such a waste of time.

Upside Down House

                             _________

______________|                  |________________

Oh no! My house! I forgot to build its floor!

What's more is I slipped, and out my mind went the door!

Ain't nowhere to sit, sigh, sleep, nor pout,

I'll be too busy falling from the floor of my house.

I could flip it upside down, and dance all around.

I could walk on the ceiling, but alas I still frown...

For with a 'poof' I had ground (and trust me, it's not as good as it sounds),

as I soon found that the sun was out,

and I'm scared of my skin peeling.

Oh please, oh PLEASE! Won't someone build me a ceiling?

Lost Pen

Oh, I’ve lost my pen– wherever could it be?

Did I leave it in my room? Or out with the tree?

Is it tucked in my drawer, with the rubbers and bands,

or did I lose it at the store; did it jump from my hands?

With a mind of its own, where it went, who knows?

I’ll write something later, when I find my prose.

In the meantime, I’ll try with paint on a brush,

            or should I use this marker with a point so rough?

I have some ink, and I have long hair…

    Maybe I should pluck a few, and write without care

(but the letters’ll look wrong, and not straight nor square).

    Well, I guess there’s still you, if you’re willing to share.

I’ll write you a poem with all the right words

    and slip it in your pocket when your head is turned.

But my pen, oh, my pen… would you please appear? Wait, I found it! Tucked here, behind my ear!

The Kitchen’s Soldiers

Get out of the road, stay not in their way!

The soldiers are coming to save the day.

They slice and stick, and poke and pull,

knives dice up food to make your belly full.

Spoons hold hot soup, so you can slurp with clean hands,

while forks pine for pasta at the bottom of your pan.

After eating, we clean, and make the silver shine and gleam,

and there's a spot in the drawer for each  and every cutlery.

But once the forks, knives, and spoons are all set and away,

I noticed a Spknork with no place to stay.

Forget-me-not

The remember-me-not, a bright green flower.

The memory-knot, a cold steamed shower.

A remember-a-lot, giggles with your friends,

And what have I forgot? Oh, yes, It’s time for bed!

My old left shoe

The day I lost my left shoe was one I’d never forget.

Oh, how it made me so blue, so embarrassed and upset.

Walking to the store was a chore on its own,

but my foot was so sore on the cold section’s floor.

At soccer practice, I tripped, and tumbled to the dirt.

Who knew how one missing shoe could leave me so hurt?

When I spoke with my friends, I hid my foot behind my leg,

And I’d hop all around, so as not to give it away.

I wore the longest skirts, and bore the brightest hair,

so no one would see my foot so open & so bare.