humour

Carrots and Ferrets

~ Emma ~ 1 Comment

I don’t peel my carrots
because I like to feel like a horse
munching away, teeth opposite from parrots
Huge honkers, made for grazing of course

And graze I sure do
it makes the day flow a little smoother
Sometimes I eat standing up, do you?
I’m alone usually, and definitely a mover

When you reach that point
of being obsessed with being alone
loving your dances in the kitchen
Oops this one isn’t rhyming, oh well

There’s only like five people reading this
which makes no difference to me
The beautiful way the words never miss
Leaving my heart and my lips, each time always feels like a kiss

This poem started out about carrots
then horses, then solitude, what’s next?
Clouds, weather, cats, furniture, ferrets?
What do you eat that’s your favourite treat?

Intentional choices to bring home the best
feelings inside our soul, it’s different for you
than it is for me, but in common we are blessed
by the moments we share, the kindness we do

Sitting or standing, laughing or crying
Eating or drinking, listening or telling
Moments and stories, hope and love
Horses, parrots, ferrets, carrots, or cake

The pathless woods is never pathless
if you’re in it, the path follows you
even if you’re running naked, full of madness
The trees unmarked, that’s the juice!

I like where this poem is going now
let’s talk more about nakedness and trees
Isn’t it nice, sitting nude outside feeling the breeze?
Except when someone interrupts, geez Louise

I’m tired and just spent twenty minutes chopping carrots
it’s great though, because tomorrow
I can chomp those suckers back, and feed the ferrets
I kind of wish I had a ferret friend, I’d call him Zorro

We’d sit on my couch and snuggle
he wouldn’t say a word, just wiggle
Do ferrets eat carrots? Zorro would
I think I’m going crazy, is this even understood?

Doesn’t matter, it’s fun and maybe I made you laugh.
If not, that’s ok too
I’m hungry again, damn what should I do?
Stand up, dance, put the carrots on the stove and make some soup!

Fridge Talk

~ Emma ~ 1 Comment

You click and crack.
I swear to God I am going to snap.
What is wrong with you, do you need a nap?

You hold my nourishment and contain my fuel.
But all I feel like some days is that you just want to duel.

It is funny actually, how long I have left you ailing.
The days I intensely dream of sending you sailing.

Why all of a sudden are you speaking this odd language?
Did you take a class and get injured? Do you now need a bandage?

I cannot see or find the source of your injury, you cry out to me full of fury.
Just chill out for a minute, I will keep excavating your core.
I am literally now, sprawled out on the floor.

I think your sounds are a result of ageing.
The wrinkles and creases and misalignments obvious;
Yet still I stand in front of you questioning and gauging.

I cannot bear to part with you and your wonderful heart.
We have never really ever been apart.

Who or what will cool my cucumbers, freeze my berries and crisp my Ambrosias?
Do you have any idea what your absence will do?
I think I need Oprah!

I wish you would silence but, in a small and slightly messed up way,
I kind of want you to scream harder.
Tell me more and louder, so I can even hear you in the shower.

Dear fridge of mine, will you ever stop tapping, clacking and ticking?
If not, fret I will no more;
There has got to be someone who understands the nature of your fixing.

It’s a miracle. Your fixer has just appeared.
A solution you could not mention; heat.
You weren’t warm enough, the air around you was cold.
So your bolts and screws and panels had been achy and off kilter I have now been told.

What a strange phenomena. I adjusted my warmth and you began to heal.
And oh my, had I known it was this simple;
I would have jacked up the heat a hell of a lot sooner, given that a try.

I might actually miss your cracking noises, wishing in fact, they did not fade.
There was something about this peculiar several month long annoying event;
That has given me insight I cannot now trade.

The quirks of life, my fridge indeed not just an appliance but a tool for guidance.
I am paying close attention now to the broken fixtures, the ailing clocks, the halting of heat and time and the sudden shifts in temperature.
I am forced to examine the science and wisdom of noise…and silence.
This might just be, an overture.

No coincidence broke my clocks, injured my fridge, stopped the flow of heat.
And not by chance did I say your name and one hour later we are to meet.

I love your invitations, thank you for letting me see.
Something so beautiful and important that now and forever;
It will be impossible to not ever, not see.