RSS Feed

Packing Monsters

The doors of childhood are closed,
all the monsters dozing.
Inside, each room is full of boxes.
All those boxes, inexpertly packed, half-taped shut,
boxes you won’t open, knowing they are filled
with snoring monsters, big and small
curled together like puppies
in boxes you are bound to carry
wherever you go in the world
never free of the scent of dust and old cardboard.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Shades of Gray - Denison TX

Photographer of Life in North TX & points beyond

Red Wolf Poems

Prompting new poems for Red Wolf Journal

Writing the Day

A Poetry Practice

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry

%d bloggers like this: