“The Miracle Tree” by Bill Condon

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THE MIRACLE TREE

 

We bought a tree from the corner shop –

bargain price for being dead.

We took it home and straight away,

stuck an angel on its head.

 

We tizzed it up with twirly bits,

and one bright shiny star.

Then we turned on the fairy lights

and the Christmas tree went

‘Ahhhhh.’

Poem of the Day

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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

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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

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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

 

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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

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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.