rexi's 21 days of poetry

poem every day for 21 days

3/3/07 day 1 prompt: Any memory from childhood

Ketchup in the Mac-and-cheese

She’ll take some gooey mac-and-cheese
Mix it with Heinz’s ketchup squeeze
Stir to a pleasant orange-red
Then slap it down atop her head!

Her little mind gives not a care
When Daddy smoothes it through her hair
For she’s trying to get her tater tots
Into the jar of applesauce
Which is stationed far away enough
To be safe from flying tater stuff

But woe to objects in the path
Of the little girl who needs a bath
Take her Daddy over there
Ketchup squirted everywhere
Laughing through a mask of red
Whipping ketchup off his head
And spreading it in the curls
Of his ketchup-happy little girl
With a noodle perched atop her nose
And baby food smudged in her cloths
And who is simply quite appeased
To mix ketchup with the mac-and-cheese


3/4/07 day 2 prompt: Train Trip

The Train Implores the Leaves (attempting a sonnet)

This lum'nous train has no clue where to go
Beating down an endless winding road
It’s humming to the trees a rushed epode
Questioning the leaves like a steel chateau
That’s speeding like a train that cannot slow
But singing nonetheless a hurried ode
Imploring that they solve for it the code
But leaves no time to answer should they know

“Oh leaves! I’ll quick, should I but hurry past
For I’m a speeding train that cannot slow
My wheels are mad and spinning far to fast
Please answer if by any chance you know
Where I should turn, or if I’m on the path?
For I wander but I don’t know where to go!”


3/5/07 day 3 prompt: Wedding Day (as told from the point of view from anyone EXCEPT the bride or groom)

Coffee Sometimes Helps

A taxi pulled up to my front lawn this morning,
Smashing several flowers
I gave the driver quite a glair
Then went to check the hour

The clock proclaimed 'twas five am
And to be sure I checked my watch
And then I went and checked the date
“You’re kidding…fifth of March?”

Quite in a daze I rushed around
Grabbed a the ‘bride’s maid’ dress
Ran outside in the ‘bride’s maid’ heals
A drunken sleepy mess

The driver was a sweet heart
And offered me his elbow
Else I might have jumped
Through the nearest window

“TO THE CHURCH AND PRONTO!”
I shook the driver’s seat
He gave a greasy smile
And we went racing down the street

The first turn we made at 30
And I was thrown against the door
The next I’d swear was 60
And left me sprawled upon the floor

By the time we reached the church
I was thoroughly beguiled
And as I handed off a 20 said
“Wow man, that was wild”

But while fixing my composure
I knew something wasn’t right
A quick glance out the window proved
There was not a soul in sight!


3/6/07 day 4 prompt: The Old West

Listening to some memories

The amber grass is rather dead
Quite dead, and dry
I brush a spot and rest my head
And listen to it moan beneath me

Brownish fields as far as I can see
Stretch towards a setting sun
They buzz like an angry bee
And hiss at the passing wind

I look around the place I’m in
And spot a crooked ditch
It’s a serpent that’s left its skin
And wandered off to find more time

This old land is scarred with crimes
Muttering memories but
It’s turning slower on the dime
And leaning towards a setting sun

This amber skin is rather dead
Quite dead, and dry
I brush a spot and rest my head
And listen to moan beneath me


3/7/07 day 5 prompt: Worst Snowstorm

the clever ones are the worst

I gazed outside and did I see
The ground distraught with ivory
Laid down heavy, in the night.
Here this man says he saw the fight
“And when I woke I knew it’d came
Winter like a burning flame
Charging like maddened ox
Yet clever as the sliest fox
Oh, yes, in through my window came
A curious breeze without a name
It took its powdered ivory
Into the little room with me
And wrapped a bonnet ‘round my head
A bitter cold to make me dead!
But had not it howled in delight,
And stirred me harshly up with freight
That little wind I thought my friend
Would have me meet my bitter end

So ‘pon stirring from my sleep with freight
I cast that wind out in the night!
‘Cause though charging like a maddened ox
And clever like the sly old fox
That little wind was rather weak,
Oh, yes, to me that wind was weak.”

3/8/07 day 7 prompt: pop culture

They’re Pretty Cool

These monkeys play with baby food and rattles
And hit the elephants in little monkey battles
Still ‘bout the height of a little monkey latitude
These baby’s think they’ve got some monkey ‘attitude’
What with their toys and colored-paper cash
They’ll give the elephants a real bad diaper rash
The elephants just hope they can communicate
With these strange little monkey apostates
But it’s in monkey knowledge understood
That now they throw big kid words with baby food.
And who’s to argue ‘bout their monkey diligence,
In throwing mashed potatoes at the elephants?

3/9/07 day 8 prompt: Witness to a Murder

The Laughing Men

As they say, ‘What they don’t know, can’t hurt them.’
I say the opposite is true.
See, the child shares mirth without comprehension,
While his life might be saved if he knew.

The children sat, drunkenly, seized with laughter.
Their voices, mingling with their piers.
As those twice as wise used large, clever words
To manipulate the minds of the dears.

“And do you know what else these children don’t know?”
One said at a whisper to his brother.
And with the suggestion of tears and mad laughter they shook,
As one handed the drum to the other.

Into the tub, its contents went,
As clear, and as light as a powder.
And as the blatant stench of it wafted the breeze,
Their laughter only grew louder.

“Come along in here!” the laughing man said,
And with a splash, the drunk, happy children hopped in
“now have some fun, and be sure to get wet!”
The two of them said with a grin.

So the children did, mad with hysterics.
Having forgotten, that to the men, they held a past theft,
“And do you know what else these children don’t know?”
Laughing, they lit a match, dropped it, and left.