Ash went to the bank and got cash
Then drove to the store
On the way there Ash got in a crash
She went to the hospital
The next day she went on a walk
Ash saw a kitten wearing mittens
Chasing a mouse wearing a blouse
So she saved the mouse with a blouse
Took the mouse to her house
And kept the mouse with a blouse at her house
Rot
As I bore into the ashen type soil;
And my limbs grow ever so cold and numb;
I cannot stop my never ending toil;
My ears now deafened by the heartbeat drum.
I cannot tell if this may be my curse;
Has my luck now run dry from the river;
Or maybe something I fear is much worse;
One that shakes my bones and makes me quiver.
My eyes rot and my fingers start to peel;
The drum keeps getting louder and louder;
I can feel Death as he nips at my heel;
The dirt I tear at turning to powder.
I beg, please send me quickly to my grave;
I cannot pretend that I am that brave.
A Garden
I like gardening
You can grow a lot of plants
Gardening is fun
School
School is long
School is sometimes boring
School is learning
School is sometimes fun
School is down the street
It’s unpredictable!
The Ocean
The big blue blob
speckled with islands.
Underneath coral grows
fish swimming, crabs walking
some are deadly and big,
but some are small.
Trees haiku
They listen to you
they keep your secrets for you
they are so loving
Ocean haiku
The tide rises up
the tide lowers quickly
waves overlapping
Three Kinds Of Rain
Real rain drumming on the roof, calming you, or waking you up. Rain that sprinkles itself down on you as you run, catch drops in your mouth. Rain in your head “too many noises too many sounds”:
Stress.
Rain that makes you sad and washes all hopes away, cancels a game or cancels a thought.
Ignore them, let your mental rain drain their comments away.
Ignore them, don’t let them make you stop writing.
Rain that drenches your clothes or your book. That makes you yell out in anger and rush back to your home. Into your family and their loving arms. The Rain wasn’t real, but painful and heart-breaking; imagine a drain and let it disappear.
They have a storm of their own.
A Moon Tipped By Wonder
The rivers
They lay in their
Churning and roiling
Bed
The lakes
They lay in their
Churning and roiling
Bed
The oceans
They lay in their
Churning and roiling
Bed
Blanketed by a foamy froth
Recoiling
And feathers dropped
By an innocent, unknowing pigeon
Recoiling
With every breath of water
It sloshes to and fro
The Cat
T he car stopped.
H orrified, I looked at my friend.
E verything had been fine until the
C at jumped in the road.
A fter that we drove off.
T he cat had been hit.
I was
S till trembling.
A ll I could think about was the
L oud crash, and
I couldn’t take my mind off the
V iolent scene.
E verything happened so fast.