Zombies, man. Zombies.


The Living...

I was at the hipster coffee shop downtown,
thumbing tattered pages of The Stand,
sipping a fairly horrible coffee,
hoping to catch a little inspiration
for a new poem or clever short story
from the mid-morning sun and passersby...

You were at the grocery store,
unpacking your meandering cart,
suddenly remembering and dashing off,
telling the gum-snapping clerk you'd be right back,
grabbing a bouquet of white Gerber daisies,
as if dinner just wouldn't taste the same without them...

The kids were at their little school,
one biting his pencil's pink eraser,
trying to remember how to carry the one,
the other outside on the playground,
swinging high on the rusty swing set,
pretending she was a bluebird...

The dog was curled snuggly on the couch,
between the big green pillow and the big blue one,
feet twitching, twitching, sleep-running,
whimpering and growling,
chasing those scoundrel brown squirrels,
around huge, beautiful dream trees...

When the graves gave up their dead.




Poetry by Rapscallion
Read 737 times
Written on 2009-05-16 at 06:18

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Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
It sounds like you found your inspiration, I love these snippets of life - they come to life :-)

Elle x
2009-05-16