Poetry

Sometimes House

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Word of The Day Challenge: SOMETIMES

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Sometimes

all of the doors in my house swing open

on their own

 

Sometimes

all of the doors in my house slam shut

on their own.

 

Sometimes the windows in

in my living room

frost over during the Summer

 

Sometimes the windows in

my living room

are hot to the touch in the Fall

 

Sometime I can hear noises

coming from my kitchen

a thump, a gasp and then…

 

Sometimes

all of the doors in my house slam shut

on their own over and over again.

 

Human In Being

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RDP Sunday: HUMAN

Frankenstein’s monster as created by artist Ross Rossin.

Create a human

it’s not hard  to do

A little song, a little dance, maybe a little

romance and

nine months later

Voila!

 

If that doesn’t work there is reliable, though slightly less passionate,  science.

 

Or you could, if you are so inclined

to stitch together, cell by cell, bone by bone

a human form and wire it’s brain,

make it’s eyes see it’s  tongue move

to cause it’s heart beat

created in your own image and

by your command bring it together as

life

Voila!

 

And if that doesn’t work

there is always romance, though slightly less passionate then science.

 

 

Oddments

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Ragtag Daily Prompt Thursday: Junk

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Up In my attic

down in the basement

are boxes and trunks

packed with junk

of a life that came to an end

in an alley

along side a highway

in ditches and backyards and empty parking lots of super box stores.

 

I collected them all

and I stored them all here

I even labeled some with names in marker pen that bled over time

a phone, a hat an over due library book about how to pick up women

a purse still carrying makeup, a hairbrush, tic tacs  and cash

up in my attic, down in my basement tokens and trinkets

my private stash, undeniable proof of a life lived until it breathed it’s last.

 

When I sit in my kitchen,  watch tv in the living room,  before I fall asleep in my bed

I think about my attic, my basement

and I worry and fret, what happens when I run out of room?

What then? Oh my God what then?

Where will I hide my treasures of all of those lives once lived?

Slow down heart, slow down brain, down blood pressure I say.

There is always the shed.

 

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Paradise In The Suburbs

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Word of the Day Challenge: Paradisiac

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Jolyn Tallman lives on a street

where all of the houses look freshly painted

and all of the women bob their hair

and wear jewelry they bought on their last vacation

to Mexico or L.A. and

Labradoodles and cats sun themselves in their picture book  backyards.

 

The woman on Jolyn’s street belong to book clubs

and sniff their wine before they sip it

except for when they are alone

and no one is around to watch them

and applaud them for how cultured they are

with admiration beaming from their eyes.

 

Sometimes on Jolyn’s street

a visitor from another world stops by one of the houses

that always looks freshly painted

and the visitors all sit on the edge of their chairs,

with their hands clenched tightly in their laps

and smiles plastered on their faces until it’s time to leave

 

and when they leave

those visitors get into their cars

and roll the windows down

they turn the radio up

push their seats back  and in that moment

they find  Paradise in the suburbs.