Holey Socks

Real Toads  – Play It Again, Toads
Mary’s Mixed Bag : Poetry of the Ordinary

~~

they were my favorite pair
fuzzy socks with alternating
green, blue, and teal stripes
and now they have betrayed me

with holes in the heels
just tiny holes for now
but holes are not static
when no one is looking

they grow, slowly, steadily
from dime, to nickel,
to quarter size until
your favorite socks turn

on you – rubbing throbbing
blisters on the bottom
of your feet and you
have no choice but to

turn those favorite socks
into a puppet couple with
red yarn hair and silly grins

Playgrounds

No one goes there any more
It used to be the best playground
with swings and sandboxes and

a box hockey game
The slides were shiny metal
and in the heat of summer

you could feel the burn on your
bare legs the whole way to the
bottom and after a rain you would

land in a muddy puddle
Now it is an empty lot, abandoned
for the newer, safer playground

across town that grownups drive
the kids to watching as they swing
on swings with safety harnesses

and slide down slides that stay
cool to the touch, landing on
a soft rubber surface, or climb

on engineered walls with rules
posted at the bottom
Maybe, someday, kids can

be kids again
play in the mud, swing higher
and higher, pumping their legs,

climb to the top of a rock pile
and proclaim themselves
rulers of the world

—–

this poem was prompted by Imagined by Bjorn – Time Travel

Faded Image

in the middle of a rain storm
when the thunder and lightening clash
brightly flash
you appear, feel so near
then fade in a splash
your image smears down the pane
I’m alone again

—–
It’s Play it Again Toads! over in the Imaginary Garden
I chose “Imagined” by Kerry O’Connor – Paul Laurence Dunbar – 7 line stanza poem
in the Melancholia form

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com

This Poem is a Globe, a Drop, and a Book

This poem is a spinning globe

This poem is a raindrop on a leaf

This poem is a book

This poem spins the world we know

making us all a little dizzy

This poem defines each country

with colors that blur together

as it spins, creating a new world

This poem is a colorful globe

This poem is a raindrop that sits on

a leaf waiting for the sun to embrace it

to lift it into the sky, send it away

and let it fall again in field or forest

This poem is a patient raindrop

This poem is a book of words

trapped between covers until opened

by some lover who sets them free

carries them like a bouquet

and bestows them on friends and strangers

This poem is a bouquet of words

This poem is a globe of many colors

This poem is a traveling raindrop

This poem is a book of flowers

————–

Boomerang Poem form challenge by Hannah

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com