the glove maker and the hat maker

2014 Home sweet home calendar:

AUGUST

    Jill was a glove maker and she lived in a glove that was handed down to her from her great, great, great grandfather. One day, the biggest storm of the summer tore all five fingertips of her glove house! Water flooded in and everything was a mess!

    Just as she was wondering what to do, Jack from next door ran over. Jack was a hat maker who lived in a big, red top hat. He had a brilliant plan. He quickly snatched a few of his best waterproof hats, and placed them on top of the torn fingertips. The glove stopped leaking immediately - saving Jill and the old glove house! A dripping wet Jill swam out of the house to thank Jack, and they soon became the best of friends.

http://www.etsy.com/shop/allthingshk

writing and sleeping

i like thinking of stuff

to write

and then falling asleep, the light

still on, and waking up to find 

where i left off

and then continuing with

laugh

I used to laugh teary eyed

with my mouth opened wide

But now I laugh typing away

on the H and the A

being obsessive

sometimes i think 

being obsessively obsessive

with anything – a word, or a number,

or whatever, is what makes 
the dorkiest dorks way cooler
 than the coolest cucumber.

story writer

all day i have to make up stories
about kings and dragons and fires
and that kind of worries me a bit
because it makes me a very good liar

question

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

If i write stuff in my blog but no one ever reads it, does it make the same effect in this world as typing random letters like shjklcnsury  hjsacb caghflaa dgas ashjdleieyurt hbjashd ?

magic finger

i slice a sliver off my finger,
and with no skin to keep it in
blood spurts out the toothless grin.
but then a bit later, skin,
oh so thin, starts closing in,
over the bit, that's wobbly and pink.
it stitches itself back together.
now how magical is that!

negotiating

negotiating involves
excruciating persuading,
trading,
lying,
complying,
pleading,
mind reading,
and timing -
but unfortunately, no rhyming.

alien poem

What happens when you're sad?
the man asks the alien.
We clap our hands, comes the reply.
That's weird, says the man - we cry.
Silence, and then the alien replies:
Don't you think it's weird
to have water come out of your eyes?

missing ocean poem

one day, the sun grew way out of proportion. 

it was so big and so hot, it dried up the ocean.

and just like that, the ocean disappeared
the fish thought it was very weird

all the dying fish lay on the ground

wondering where the ocean could be found.

was the ocean now hanging way up high

like a giant mirror in the sky? 

just then, small pieces of the ocean fell from the sky.

soon, thunder roared and lightning crashed

and the ocean came falling down like dogs and cats.

the fish swished their tails in delight, for they learned

that the missing ocean had returned.

thoughts running through my mind

thoughts running through my mind
so fast they collapse,
a momentary lapse ...

then they're back
on track, running laps

so fast they collapse...

a momentary lapse,
but soon they're back
on track, running laps...

story of wells

Well, well, well...What do we have here? says the witch.
Well, I'm a well, and I'm doing very well, says the well.
You don't have much vocabulary, do you? says the witch.
Well... says the well.
Then you deserve a spell, replies the witch.
From now on, you're only going to echo what other people tell you.
And that is the story of why wells echo so well...well...well...

sister poem

My sister's gone!
She's been replaced!
Following her are two sticky-faced tots
who call her "mom".

fight poem

A pillow fight is not a fight

But what delight

If all fights were only pillow fights

night poem

Night is the best time to write

because light excites 

but darkness sharpens.

Light is good for hugs and kisses

But night is good for writing stuff like this-es.

If poem

If is a very nice word to start a poem with
And if I had to end a poem I would end it with if.

sunday poem

i like scruffy books and scruffy shoes
and if i had a dog i'd name him Scruffy too

money poem

If money grew on trees, like leaves,
gimme a strong breeze.
And a rake, please.

annoying poem

your a poem
full of mistakes
every other line
your there
and at the end
your still there.
-_-

third person poem

joanne doesn't like people talking about her in the third person
when she is right next to them

she doesn't like people who talk about themselves in the third person*
especially teachers talking to little kids. that is not fun.

she doesn't like writing about herself in the third person.
she thinks the only things allowed to be written in third person
are resumes or "about the author" sections.
so although this poem just begun,
now it is done.

* but it's ok for elmo

this poem sounds deep

i like to watch the rain hit my window and wash away all the people down below. leaves leave trees and everything becomes blobs and globs and squigglies and yellow and gray jello and basically everything looks the same with or without my glasses on

but when the sun comes out 

things become unbearably clear

pirate poem

The hungry pirate

and his hungry parrot

bought some carrots

to bake a pie.

But the hungry parrot

ate all the carrots

and the pirate
had to bake a new pie.

It was so delicious,

no one was suspicious

of that light and feathery
parrot pie.

another poem about poetry

Words sit

on the tip

of my tongue.

They linger

on my lips.

When suddenly…

Clickety click,

They leave through

my finger tips.

i decided to write a poem today

when words
make a rhythm
from my heart
to my head
to my hands
as i write,
i'm glad
that my heart
is beating
alright
becauseif yousee somethinglike this itmeans i amhaving aheartattackhelp

resurrection

Time to resurrect my blog! I can still write in sentences but I can hardly write in paragraphs anymore. Some things that have replaced paragraphs: comics, videos, photos, lists, memes, posts and statuses. Hopefully i can write a longer paragraph tomorrow!