Poem of the Day

5 Comments

I NEED TO WALK

 

I need to walk each morning because there’s a horse that waits for me to rub its nose.

Though whether I stay five minutes or an hour,

I can never rub away its loneliness.

 

I need to walk so I can talk to a white dog that prowls in endless circles,

forever haunted by a chain, that cuts us both.

Bill Condon

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #11

Poem of the Day

4 Comments

WINDOW SEAT

 

Just out the window seems to be

a better place for you and me.

There’s sunshine there

and giant slides …

and if you’ve brave

there’s dragon rides!

 

There’s trees to climb

that scrape the moon,

and monsters dance

in the lagoon,

and Bigfoots bounce

on trampolines,

and tigers sneak up

unforeseen

and strike like lightning

at their prey –

then lick them ’till

they’re licked away!

 

If only classrooms had lagoons

on sleepy Monday afternoons.

Bill Condon
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #4

poetry-prompt-4

Poem of the Day

6 Comments

Ode Rage

I push my pen around the page,

it pushes back and sneers.

When I incur a paper cut –

I cry, the paper jeers.

 

A face appears upon the page –

a horrid, mocking troll.

Now my chair collapses

and I’m truly on a roll.

 

My pen falls down beside me.

I’m sure I hear it speak.

It mutters, ‘Feelin’ lucky, punk?’

I answer, ‘Feelin’ weak’.

 

Dead lines are sneaking up on me,

like zombies, clawed extended.

My brain is full of jellybeans –

the jar has been upended.

 

My Muse is out to get me

and I’m filled with angst and fear.

I send regards from Writer’s Hell,

be thankful you’re not here.

Bill Condon
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5

Prompt5

 

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

Manatee Anarchy

By Bill Condon

 

There was once a well-mannered manatee,

who rarely indulged in profanity.

But when confronted with queues,

she blew every fuse

and swore with manic insanity.

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #7

Prompt7

 

 

 

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

Family tree

by Bill Condon

 

The mother was a ghost gum,

a really terrific tree-mum.

The father was a noble oak,

a shining prince of tree-dom.

You’d think with a family tree like that,

the offshoot would have to be a winner.

Instead he was a toothpick,

who lived in fear of dinner.

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2

Prompt2

 

Bill says: I wrote this years ago when I was very silly. Nothing’s changed.

 

Poem of the Day

7 Comments

EYESORE-OSAURS

By Bill Condon

 

 I’ve studied all the dinosaurs

That history’s unravelled,

And found a few new species

On the many roads I’ve travelled.

 

There’s the arrogant Ignore-osaur

That walks with head on high.

It does not even deign to look

As it trundles by.

 

The Badbreath-osaur has germs galore

And needs to brush its teeth.

The Crook-osaur is, for sure,

A crafty little thief.

 

The Bore-osaur is tedious,

The Brag-osaur’s a pain.

If nothing else, Umbrella-saurs,

Are handy in the rain.

 

I quite admire the Stutter-saur

It tries with all its might,

To master elocution,

But it never gets it right.

 

My favourite though,

I have to say, is bits of this and that.

Part brontosaur, part stegosaur,

Part giant pussycat.

 

I call it Jigsaw-osaur,

Its wonder never ceases.

I have a skeleton of one,

Though I’m missing vital pieces …