REMINDERS: This space is a judgement-free zone. If something doesn’t make sense to you, enjoy its nonsensical-ness. If grammar is wrong, let it be wrong. If something sounds weird to you, enjoy its weird-sounding-ness. If something boggles your brain, let your brain be boggled.
If you haven’t sent your poem in yet, you still can! If you sent yours in and you don’t see it, please e-mail me. It may have gotten lost in the mix. Also, let me know if something looks wrong with your poem. I’ve decided to start including last names since there are a lot of people participating.
PLEASE NOTE: The Green Page puts everything in the same format, sometimes eliminating stanzas/breaks, or changing things that are centered. So it may look a bit different.
A VACUUM’S LAMENT
Every day I eat off the floor
And every day there’s more and more
All I ever eat is dirt!
And now I’m feeling very hurt
One day I’ll eat off a table
I don’t care if I’m not able
You can tell me it’s my job,
Well, guess what?
I spend all day
Just watching the world
Seeing younger kids play
You would think it would be peaceful, but really, my temper has curled
I watch people do
through my little view
They walk their yappy dogs
Hurry off to their jobs
But I’m stuck here
Wishing I could disappear
From this endless trap
Of watching others nap and clap
All I wish to do
was be free of my perch on the house walls
Maybe walk around
Wouldn’t that be nice,
a walking window.
Oh, what’s my problem, you ask?
Explaining, I’m, sure, will be no easy task
You see, I’m a sharpener
For pencils, you know,
But what I should do
is put on a show
I’m a singer!
My talents are wasted!
And for years and years
I’ve waited and waited
My chance has never come!
of the great Dundaner
and his opera career
And so here I sit
Sharpening pencils by day
My singing dreams no more
And yet again
I let the sunlight shine right through my panes, and let it shine on you.
Starlight, moonlight, lightning, even darkness.
I keep the rain out, though it pours. The wind that bends the sycamores
Leans endlessly upon me. Still I muster.
Through me. Through me! THROUGH ME!
The life of paintings on the wall — to capture beauty and enthrall
The people passing by. I dream of that.
Looked upon, not through.
And maybe it’s a little vain to wish for focus on such plain
Fragments of glass and wood,
But isn’t there a kind of beauty in something that filters through
To find only the best pieces of the world
And gives them unconditionally?
All I ask from those who can is brushes, paint, a bit of heart,
Pour out your thoughts with strokes and swirls and make of me a work of art.
And if you don’t have any paint or brushes, perhaps a hug to show you care.
Open palms pressed against glass, chilled from its efforts to protect you from the frosty air outside.
Why do you jump one me, skip on me, bump on me
Stretch me out and pound me to the ground
Then leave me outside in the rain, alone, and forget about me
The only love you give me is tough love, rough love
You mash your dirty feet into me over and over,
“cause mom said no socks on the trampoline”
I’ll sit out here till my legs are all squeaky and I’m full of holes
Then you’ll throw me away and forget about me
And I’ll forget about you
It’ll be my turn to fly
What’s my problem? What do you think?
You’d get tired too, if you did what I did
Consuming scratchy, sharp wood
Disgustingly tasting graphite
On a daily basis
They stick their pencils in the hole in my front
And expect me to gnaw on them until
The pencil tip is sharp
And when the pencil breaks
They blame me
As if it’s my fault they bought a stupid pencil
You know what? I should at least get a reward
Since I do so much sharpening for them
Since I endure the torture of eating sweaty pencils
I should at least be granted hands
So then I could put the pencils to use
And make art much better than the stupid humans can
singing in a home
was a gnome
the gnome remembered the urling
no not the urling
and the curling iron was not happy
she was sappy
and when it was time for her nappy nappy
she couldn’t Cora couldn’t
and that was her name
Cora the curling iron was UPSET
all she did was curl
and when the gnome asked
“Hey, what’s your problem?”
“don’t even ask.”
Hello! I’m a sock.
My name is Jock.
I have a twin brother and his name is Dock.
I absolutely hate being a sock.
It’s smelly, it’s stinky and sometimes I’ll find a lock
Of hair from somebody’s stinky hairy feet.
If I could, I would change my job in a heartbeat,
For something like a clock
Which only says, ‘tic toc’
or maybe a electric fence, it’s purpose is to shock
The innocent animals who get too close
At lease I would be away from those stinky old toes.
This is the end of the tale
Of the sock who feels like it is in jail
So I hope you feel a bit of empathy
To poor sock-ish me.
Good-bye and I hope you have a better life than I.
I like to burn your fingers when they make me mad
I love to scorch your dollies
My face is never seeing
I am ever feeling
I am not in control of my sleep
When you pull the plug, I fall asleep
I am hot like fire
I can do what I want with your hair
Mwah ha ha
I love when you think I’m helpful
I then eat you
You want to know what the problem is!
Well i’ll tell you what the problem is!
Every week while your flickering away with your lites and your sounds I’m being talked into!
People have super bad breath!
And I can always see what they’ve eaten that day!
It is soooooooooooo gross!
I’m the one doing all the work and no one even looks at me!
Do you know how sweaty peoples hands are?!
I always get held up by sweaty,stinky,smelly hands!!!!!!
And then when there done with me they just throw me into a box and lock me up!
Do you know, I think it would be nice to be something like you.
People would look at me instead of at a person holding me.
I could make sounds and lights.
It would be wonderful!
Being a garbage can
I hate being a garbage can.
I have to sit and get thrown SPAM.
People also throw rotten fruit at me.
It is really disgusting!
I just long for the day that I am clean.
Free from the wrath of grunge.
But I can’t even polar bear plunge!
I hate being a garbage can.
“Why are you so mad?”
“WELL I’m mad because I’m REALLY bored of being a curling iron so I went to hang with the straightener but they are just SOOO rude they told me to go away or they will burn me. And since I didn’t want to get burned I run away. Then I went over to the rest of the curling irons but THEY were also being super rude because I wanted to hang with the straighteners! Sooo I was just alone in the corner being sad. But I decided to get revenge! So I went over to the curling irons and burned them! Then I went over to the straighteners and knock them off the shelf! But… one of the CURLING IRONS went and told BRITTNY and she’s the BIGGEST curling iron and she burn me A LOT so now I’m in trouble with my mom. All I wanted was to hang with the straighteners.”
I’m sick of your talking
Whenever I’m walking
And sing a sourless blue
And when I’m talking
You’re always walking
While I shout at you
And I’m a sock who likes to walk
And you’re a chalk who likes to talk
And I’m a sock who wants a hawk
So go away whenever I pray
With a hawk in my heart
But no hawk in my eyes
Whenever I cries
I’m always there and always here