Five Short Poems

Creaking Before the Chomping


The creaking in the deep crake.
Where does it begin?
Deep from within, I think.
It stops when I do.
How soon to be you for a day?
Tell me with candy in your mouth.
Chomping and chomping,
until you stomp out the flavor.



Arrive in your best uniform,
ironed to be smooth,
much like your skirt pleats.
They accentuate your curves,
the way your hips sway.
I am bursting inside.
Happy like gum.



Blue, red, orange, purple and faded yellow ones
with teeth marks of kids no longer kids.
Some have money, some have none.
Some are alive, some are dead.
Some can run, some only walk.

We grow old and time stops for no one.

Errors Made


Survey the land that your feet reside.
Don’t stretch your hand out too far,
for they will hear you,
and they know who you are.
No amount of politeness matters.
The water’s choppy and the coconuts have fallen.
Get back into your wooden boat,
but you can’t.

It has floated away.

Roller Coaster


Jump inside, buckle up,
waiting to climb up and up,
above treetops and restaurants.
The anticipation as it chugs along.
On the top, getting ready for the descent.
Whee!  Hands in the air!
Screaming all around me!
Gaining speed to the top and plummeting,
my stomach twisting.
Whee!  Hands in the air! 
It’s going around again.
Eyes wide open now.


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