I’m trying to sustain this theme of birthday poems. I’m not always successful and yesterday I didn’t even try. Today I tried…but you don’t want to know what I was playing with before I came up with this poem.
You do? Really? Okay—you asked for it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. So first up is the reject. The one below the reject is the real poem for today.
WHICH BIRTHDAY?
By April Halprin Wayland
Some1 ran 2 the store 4 candles.
5 and 7 helped 6 decor-8 the living room.
“Here he comes!” whispered 5, who’d been paying a-10-tion.
They counted, “1…2…3,”and just as 9 opened the door,
they jumped up and shouted “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!“
Boy, was 9 surprised!
He folded his arms across his hairy chest.
He looked pissed off.
“Nice try, guys. My birthday was last week.”
“Oh, great,” said 1.
“I spent all of my allowance on these stupid candles.”
“Can we light them anyways?” asked 4.
So they lit the candles. And when they all moved in to blow them out,
9 caught on fire,
and all the numbers were burned alive..
The End.
© by April Halprin Wayland 2010 all rights reserved
Okay…here’s today’s real poem:
THE PERFECT GIFT
by April Halprin Wayland
I bought my friend some batteries
that recharge when they’re low.
I got my friend a charger, too.
I wrapped it with a bow.
When I feel defeated,
rejected, frail, lost,
bereft of friends (I can’t pretend)
and downright double-crossed,
my friend walks up to see me,
and makes a pot of tea.
Just sitting, just the two of us.
My friend recharges me.
© by April Halprin Wayland 2010 all rights reserved
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