Whisker of Poetry

Here’s a little whisker of poetry – quirky snippets of life to keep me sane.

.
.

blank page
mocks
doubting ability
to weave words
into story
as cursor blinks
like fingers
thrumming
on desktop
We’re wait-ing…

I wait
and doubt
too

.
.

There’s no flies on us!

teacher,
noting empty spaces,
observes:
‘They’re dropping like flies.’

later,
ailing student prompts peer’s
response:
‘There’s not many flies left.’

.
.

40
over the hill
and way too
hot!
Cool it.
Take the temp
down.

.
.

Most mothers are sick of their kids getting sick
and when they are gooder Mum’s gladder.
But when my little boy is not good, he’s the bestest –
and when he is better he’s badder!
.
.

Yep – sick kids. With half their class away, I’m not really surprised. And mine aren’t doing too bad… (Nor is my youngster that bad when he’s well! But he is an angel when he’s sick!)