Take a peek at the photo above. Lots on the table. Pick one object. Tell a story. Or don’t. But write a poem either way.
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In the Ol’ Aggregator
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10 responses so far ↓
Kevin Hodgson // Apr 2nd 2009 at 6:34 am
Do Not Touch!
not touching is easy –
it’s the not playing
that always gets me
so, i swivel around,
making sure the coast is clear,
and take off into imagination –
soaring the sky –
until the footsteps of the world
trample me
and i return my eyes to the sign
that reminds me
of the things i cannot touch
and the things i cannot do
and i leave so quietly that no one even knows
i was there.
– Kevin
Kevin Hodgsons last blog post..Day in Alliteration
[Reply]
Maria Monaco // Apr 2nd 2009 at 8:19 am
Glue
I may put two objects together
that don’t belong:
like a propeller kissing thin skin,
or landing gear married, somewhat unexpectedly, to a desk
But most times,
when all goes well,
I’m a strong bond left unbroken
and an answer spoken
in whispered prayers to the chemical gods.
Maria Monacos last blog post..Praise & the fixed mindset
[Reply]
Bud Hunt // Apr 2nd 2009 at 3:30 pm
Rules
Never one to break the rules
Unless the stakes are high
I kept my hands much to myself
And watched the tools sit by
Time then came for me to leave
The room, of course, not mine
But in a fit of selfish child
I touched and touched that sign.
[Reply]
Ben Grey // Apr 2nd 2009 at 7:10 pm
I want to find out
how high I can go
to touch the limit’s edge.
But I fear,
I’m not that easily
put back together.
Ben Greys last blog post..An Online Identity Crisis of Sorts
[Reply]
Ed Webb // Apr 2nd 2009 at 9:30 pm
Is this the chaos
After the disaster, or,
The chaos before?
Ed Webbs last blog post..Twitter and all that
[Reply]
Andrew Forgrave // Apr 4th 2009 at 3:29 am
Virtual Toys
They used to call it “Shop” or “Home Ec”
Making things, baking things,
A lamp, a step-stool, cake.
Noisy classrooms,
Dirty hands.
Take it home to share with mom and dad.
Preserved to touch in later years.
Now we go online,
Click and point and drag,
Dissect a virtual frog, fly a ‘copter,
“I like the games where you can restart them when you die.”
Text you later.
Hands Clean.
email Dad a copy.
The Cloud Will Hold It All.
[Reply]
Marcy Webb // Apr 5th 2009 at 5:35 am
DON’T RUN WITH THE SCISSORS!!!
Oops! Wrong way. Turn them around. *Now* give them to her. Very nice.
Um, I don’t have scissors for lefties.
Wow! Grown-up scissors. We’re always given the “baby” scissors. ¡Gracias, Señorita!
What’s in the box? Tijeras? Scissors!!!
While you cut, we’ll listen to some music. How about Santana?
Ok. It’s Grammar Time. Let’s put the scissors away now.
Marcy Webbs last blog post..Twitter in the Foreign Language Classroom:12 Seconds TV
[Reply]
Ken Allan // Apr 7th 2009 at 3:39 am
Scissors.
How come you never get one scissor?
“Can I have a scissor please?”
“A what?”
“A scissor.”
“We only sell them in pairs.”
“I’ll have two scissors please.”
Ken Allans last blog post..In Praise Of Plaudit
[Reply]
Jo Hawke // Apr 8th 2009 at 9:36 am
Strangely enough, according to my freshman-year roommate, some people in Indiana use “scissor” in the singular: “I need a scissor,” she would say.
[Reply]
Ken Allan // Apr 15th 2009 at 10:35 pm
Kia ora Jo
I guess you roommate wears a trouser from time to time too. No?
Catchya later
Ken Allans last blog post..What Is Learnt From Community?
[Reply]
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