Other Poems | meretricktheworm

Other Poems

Lazy Honeybees

I * * **

Could * * not be

A butterfly * * I don’t have

Multi-colored @ coat. I do not

Flutter, fly, or float ## or follow flowers

Or live an era in an hour ### I cannot hope to see the

Sky with compound eyes. I have but 2 that do not

See the happiness of being free. I cannot blend

To get away from ### being prey. I can

however, see a ### scene. A color

scene. Not just ### yellow, red and

green. I can pick ### up skipping rocks

and throw them *** off of river docks. A

butterfly would *** never try. I sit in shade

and wonder why ** this lovely butterfly

would dare to and upon my knee

and then I wonder what it

could be like to be a

**** honey bee.

*** **

**

*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

O ^ O

((( )))

(%%%%%%)

__Who_wouldn’t_(%%%%%%%%) want_to_be_me_

( / / ( ) \ \ )

(____/____/____/ \___\___\_____)

( / / (%%%%%%%%) \ \ )

(__/____/ (%%%%%%%) \___\__ )

/ ( ) \

/ (%%%%%) \

(%%%)

(%)

!

Mr. Close’s Classroom

In Mr. Close’s classroom you’d be very apt to find,
So many awesome things that will stimulate your mind.
On the east side of the room, you will notice something cool,
Something pretty awesome, never seen before in school.
It’s a rather strange device that has very special schemes,
Because it takes you back and lets you re-watch all your dreams.
When you dream you get ideas for things that you can write,
And those things could be the very things you dream about tonight.

On the west side there’s some desks that do something pretty sweet,
They take you to another world, somewhere random, but quite neat.
You’ll be completely safe as you gaze upon the place,
So bring your pen and paper for writing just in case.
For there are many stories to tell and songs to be sung,
In a place that will always and forever keep you young.

On the south side near the door, there are bean bags on the floor,
Where cat naps can be taken as long as you don’t snore.
And then right next to those, there are chairs lined up in rows,
I’m not sure why they’re there; you can sit in them I suppose.

On the north side by the windows there are shelves of awesome books,
In so many different genres and so many different looks.
You can open up and read each and every single one,
But be sure you put them back when your reading time is done.

Now the ceiling and the walls are the greatest parts of all,
They represent the seasons, winter, spring, summer, and fall.
In the winter, there is snow, then in the spring, the flowers grow,
In the summer, it all glows, then in the fall, the colors show.
From white to green to orange to brown, the walls and ceiling shift,
The picture of our seasons is a lovely precious gift.
So I implore your entrance for this classroom is quite grand,
And honestly, these kids are wild; I sure could use a hand.

Baseball

Rick hit the ball, it flew up high,
Then turned to me and said good bye.
He raced around the bases fast,

He thought he hit a home run blast.

I looked up high and spotted it,
Heading straight for my baseball mitt.
I took two steps then turned around,
And dove across the hitters mound.

Into my mitt that ball did stick,
Then I looked up and shouted “Rick!”
You know you’re out, I caught the thing,
It went straight up with your bad swing.

He looked at me as if to say,
I saw it fly, there is no way.
You’re out I said, now have a seat,
I’ll show you how to be elite.

I threw it up so it would fall,
Then took a swing at my tossed ball.
I hit the thing with all my might,
Then stopped to watch the ball take flight.

It passed the mound, right down the line,
Then over the right field sign.
I rounded first and then third base,
Retouching second just in case.

I stopped at home, Rick looked at me,
He said, “My friend, didn’t you see?”
Your ball went foul, it hooked wide right,
The hit was nice, but it’s a strike.

He told me, “How blind can you be?”
I took more swings, strikes two and three.

So he popped up and I struck out,
We won’t attract a hitting scout.
We maybe don’t have power swings,
But pitching might just be our thing.