Bad Poetry Monday – 4

Today’s poem comes from the throes of my teen years.  Creative writing class again.  Yay.  So have at it–tear it to shreds, and for goodness sake, leave a poem for us to enjoy in the comments!  Yours or someone else’s.  I don’t care.  As long as it’s oh so bad…

In the Thick of It

doughy rain hits my clean windshield
I try to clear it off, but the wipers are
                                    caught in the gooey mess…
smearing it so much that I can no longer see through the glass,
I stick my head out the window

Great Globs clump in my hair and my eyes are slits
as I squint to see through…
my car’s engine heaves and sputters as it is weighed down
                       by the masses of floury paste.

At last it dies and I sit in the cold, watching the fields around me
     become covered with batter.   patiently I sit and gaze at the ponderous clouds



                       ominously over me.

the blessed sun comes out and the dough bakes into a light, flaky pastry.

         As I take out my scraper and clean off the car,
     road crews are beginning to restore the road to it’s original condition.
I turn on the radio and Jive Clive shouts, “Thank God it wasn’t quick-rise!”

In other, lesser news, Legos celebrate 50 years today.  Happy Birthday (Anniversary?), Legos.  My husband loves you.


8 thoughts on “Bad Poetry Monday – 4

  1. Stifled creativity

    The phone, the tv, the constant interruptions of children…
    How does one manage creativity?

    It is there, I can feel it, it’s almost to paper,
    and then another “hey mom” is shouted again.

    I sit here remembering what it was like when I was alone.
    What it was like to be creative at any moment.

    And then I remember that I prayed for the interruptions.

    The invitations by friends for a night on the town.
    The ring of the phone from a boy who promised to “call me”.

    And they never came soon enough.

    So now, as I beg for a moment of silence.
    Just one moment to finish a thought.
    Just one moment of peace.

    I am reminded that the interruptions make me happy.

    And creativity stifled is not so bad.

  2. Ok – I know it’s Wednesday, but due to the lack of participation in BPM, I’m writing a poem now… on the spot. Here goes:

    the glistening dew,
    in morning sun
    an eternity of dark sunshine
    It makes me feel that way.

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