GloPoWriMo Lament
How sad it is that it should be,
For catching up with poetry,
To meet, this month, the thirty spot,
The chances, now, are not so hot.
For yesterday, entirely,
We lost our electricity;
And when with pen I have to jot
A poem, well, I can do … not!
So now I will just have to see
What can be churned out speedily;
I am behind an awful lot …
Will writing now end in a blot?
For Day Twenty-Five of GloPoWriMo one faces dealing with spaces. A box was suggested, but it has to be small, definite, and meaningful to me. I think this qualifies.
Exploring Space
A swap done as a little boy
With cousin, for unwanted toy,
Gave me a box of many tricks,
With sliding secret panels, for
To open; and I made false floor;
There many memories I store,
Like silver card-case filled with pix.
Puff-adder fang you’ll also find,
And my first watch, which will not wind,
(The Heads Dad flew to, without me,
And bribed me with it, for, ‘tis true
‘Twas school time when that flight he flew,
And take me with him would not do,
But I opposed vehemently.)
Some medals inside there remain,
My first dog-whistle on a chain,
Harmonica minute in size,
And lens for microscope packed there,
Together with a note-book, where
Find codes and drawings penned with care;
Small diary provides surprise.
As can be seen, there are several unlisted items. I also forgot to open the false bottom, so the contents are still there.
A perfect name – Treasure Box!
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That describes it perfectly!
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Love your treasure box! Was that dog-whistle used to train Terry, who I remember so clearly and fondly? I also recall all the treasures which were stuck on your bedroom wall in the Primrose house. I loved being there-it was like a natural museum!
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The whistle was certainly from the Terry era! I did go a bit overboard with my bedroom — mind you, my study looks a bit like that now!
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Nice . . . and I’m not even partial to poetry.
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Most people would strongly argue against my rhymes being poetry!
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