Poem ?
May 6, 2008 at 12:26 pm | In Self, fantasy, poems | Leave a CommentTags: free verse, personification, poetry writing
My friend wrote a poem
about buying a wooden spoon.
I wrote one about a whisk broom.
A friend – perhaps the “wooden spoon” friend -
told me the best poems are about the
most unlikely things.
Not of moonlight and love.
Maybe of monkey wrenches or
paper clips or dirty windows.
But I’m not sure.
I think one just needs people
or things that can be people.
I want to convince the reader that
even a whisk broom
can love.
The Gift
April 29, 2008 at 10:37 am | In Self, fantasy, poems | Leave a CommentTags: fantasy, free verse, ownership
I bought a small gift, one I truly coveted and
could easily have decided
not to donate to the prize table.
But its winner, knowing, gave it back to me.
I wonder, do I own or am I owned by things?
But when this thing was “mine,”
it wasn’t mine.
It was its own, un-ownable.
A beautiful, graceful whisk broom, long, cylindrical,
with twirling bristles of gold and sepia and not-quite-red
bursting from its tightly bound handle.
Each strand of her full, straw skirt turns slightly in one direction.
She twirls. She enchants. She is her own.
Like all angels.
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