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Searching for My Next Hat

by Kristina Woodhill

Here it is mid morning, neck just loosened,
Joints all rubbing hard, their flex un-noosed and
Soon now rich iron, rich O-two, rich red,
Will force its pulsing river to my head;

Grit and grime have settled on these lax shores
Where zombies lurk amid skin-trembling snores;
To sleep, to rest, to rise, to birth a thought,
To spy a ghostly jester, glimmers caught;

Yester mixes drinks with chinked to-do lists,
Toasting extra parts, false starts, fondue drips,
Cheesey stretched connections, chocolate dark squares
Covering, recovering this stuffed chair;

Blatherskite becomes my nom de plume. Worse!
Sonnets flee my bonnet, seeking freed verse.

07/01/2011

Author's Note: LOL Sonnet challenge

Posted on 07/02/2011
Copyright © 2020 Kristina Woodhill

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Charlie Morgan on 07/02/11 at 03:36 PM

...k-gal, i sit awed and smiling...what wonderment of words...one of those that i say 'thanks for writing this'...still smiling over here.

Posted by Mo Couts on 09/22/11 at 03:44 AM

Hehe, charming and funny!

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