parachuting peas
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Saturday, January 28, 2006
eve.
peering through the lilac bindsgazing up into the purple skies
reaching out for that clasp of air
stretching out for that feeling so rare
breathing in the unscented air
no preservatives or artificial flavouring's there
peering through the lilac binds
gazing up into the purple skies
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you know how when you're just beside the night, when the stars and planets seem to be a 'cupit' away. when you breathe in the night air that beckons you to lean forward for even more. when you stretch out your palm, for that luxury of feeling that perfect nothingness at your finger tips. nothing to restrain you, yet, that 'nothing' is everything that's surrounding your hand. when you lift your head and you try to name that color of the sky that you dont seem to recognise, cause you never took time to realise. that when you turn your head in frenzy, over all the troubles and strife that you take on, the chilly night air brushes past, to kiss your cheeks, to envelope your weeping heart within.
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aiyoh. why do i find this less-discovered joy frm spinning sad tales.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
[for a kid ‘stuck’ at the dining table]
stared down at dinner's fish and i thought it moved its tailthe peas and carrots sitting beside it, they sure did smell quite stale
the chicken, the pork, this whole dinner hoo-haa,
it makes a kiddo like me shudder, wince and turn so very pale
the sauce on top looked like a gooey slime trail
steam from the food ‘odors’, pungent as hyena exhale
I moaned and groaned as I sniffed the air
I dare no wonder or imagine how my tastebuds would fare
Looked down at my toes, wriggled, curled and counted them
Why can’t I have ice-cream, cookies or jam
instead of Gravy that clings, like glue, gel and phlegm
as my mind slowly wandered and dreamt
i saw cotton candy clouds and lollypop trees
red, yellow, green, within a rainbow sheen
Soda flavored rivers and apple juice seas
such joyful brain pictures, it makes my chubby face grin
i clanked my bowl, i twirled my spoon
my fork parachutes peas, up and over the moon
they flew up high, before they dived down
and then in gramma's soup, they drowned
I bowed my head, tilted it, and slanted my gaze
Looking at no one, I prayed hard no one would look my way
bashfully i lifted my spoon again to eat
the ‘stuffs’ on my plate which were anything but a treat
© - by frostking and icequeen 2005