First or second,
The goal, I hear,
And mine a mere
12 times a year.
Author Archives: emtwytte
A Complete Boxed Puzzle
A: I don’t get it.
B: Oh, come on.
A: I really… I can’t understand it.
B: Leave it, will ya?
A: But why? Why would they do that?
B: It’s supposed to be creative.
A: Not that creative!
B: Mack-
A: -I gave them a complete boxed puzzle, and they made an ash tray!
B: Ok. That’s extreme. I know you love metaphors, but-
A: -No, it’s not. It’s accurate. It perfectly describes their lunacy.
B: They’re not crazy, Mack.
A: Sure fooled me! They can’t even follow simple instructions.
B: What? Because they didn’t do it your way?
A: Right.
B: Mack… they’re not you.
A: What?
B: If you want it done your way, do it yourself!
The Harried Tornado
The harried tornado
Stumbles to a stop,
However temporary,
And savors every second.
Until, that is,
The languid breeze
Decries its stressful schedule.
Or the heavy wind
That blows but once
Insults its time and tempo.
Hush and Heed
Hush, my child, or they will hear
Your petulant voice in the cold night air –
That shrill, hard pitch shreds their ears,
And those that get caught
Simply disappear.
Stay out of the woods!
That’s where they live, where they watch
And hunt for foolish kids
That show their parents’ words such scorn
And fade away
Like the fog at morn.
Steer clear of the waters,
Be they shallow or deep, they’ll pull you down
To their cold, dark depths
Where they like to sleep –
Where they steal your breath.
Hush and heed my warnings, my words,
Flee the woods and waters beyond.
Hush and head, my darling child,
If you wish to see tomorrow’s dawn.
Sneaking Silence
With sneaking silence
Small hands reach for the wooden edge,
Pulling up to unsteady feet
Until dark eyes can get a peek
At sugary gold in its crystalline cage.
The tiny hands then hold and wait,
Wait for the chance to set it free
When no adults can hear or see.
Currents
A bubble in the river,
A tiny froth of foam,
Pushed and rushed and jostled
Through a world it does not know.
It has no oar to steer with
Nor hands nor feet to try,
And so it floats in the hands of fate,
In currents aimed and blind.
twytte 