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22/MTF/The abyss of life
I don’t know anymore... I don’t even know what that means
21/Trans Male
22/Transgender Male/virginia
a twenty-one year old poet who is trying to make a difference in this world.
Poems
Phil Lindsey May 2015
The Attic of Agnes McDuff
Phil Lindsey
May 2015
Agnes McDuff collected strange stuff,
Or so the story goes:
There were old pots and pans,
String, rubber bands,
Boxes and boxes of clothes,
Newspapers, plates,
Books stored in crates,
And candlesticks lined up in rows.
Some mason jars,
Toy trucks and cars,
A model train with a whistle that blows,
Needles and spools,
All kinds of tools,
And shoes with holes in the toes.
There were tables and chairs,
Bookends in pairs,
A grandfather clock that was broke,
An old brass spittoon,
Some Sunday cartoons,
And a bicycle mssing a spoke.
Four or five hundred old wooden blocks,
Twenty-three pair of grey woolen socks,
A Christmas Edition bottle of Coke,
A board game missing directions,
A bat, a ball, a catcher’s mitt, two baseball card collections,
And a great big rusty tuba. What a joke!
There was other stuff, but you’ve heard enough;
About what was stored in
The Attic of Agnes McDuff.
Part 2
Agnes’ attic was quite special
But not for the things it contained
But for how she had to get there
Please let me explain!
Agnes had a one-story house
A flight of stairs led to the attic.
When she opened up the door,
The light came on automatic.
It opened to a hallway
Where there was another door
Another light, another hall, and more stairs, which
Led back down to the first floor!
Where an elevator waited
To take her up again?
But it had just one button
And it was numbered “10”.
When she pushed it, it was crazy
The elevator turned upon its side,
Grew wheels and drove out on the street
For an amazing ride!
Across a long suspension bridge,
Then underneath a tunnel,
And then it went around and round
Like circling down a funnel!
It dropped upon a railroad track
Hooked onto the caboose
And followed to the roundhouse
Where it finally broke loose.
It turned around a couple times
And ran out toward the street
The elevator ran, of course
Because it had grown two feet!
It ran across an avenue,
Around a lake, and through a park
And then through another tunnel
Where it was very dark.
A mile later it emerged,
At Agnes’ house, by her front door!
The elevator walked inside,
And was on the second floor!!
So that’s how Agnes reached her attic,
Perhaps someday you’ll go there too,
Push the elevator button,
And you’ll find my story’s true!
Part 3
Agnes stood there in her attic
And smiled at all her stuff
That almost ends the story of
The Attic of Agnes McDuff.
But Agnes’ story can never end
Her smile turned to a frown,
Because you see poor Agnes
Forgot how to get back down!!
PwL May 1, 2015
Or so the story goes:
There were old pots and pans,
String, rubber bands,
Boxes and boxes of clothes,
Newspapers, plates,
Books stored in crates,
And candlesticks lined up in rows.
Some mason jars,
Toy trucks and cars,
A model train with a whistle that blows,
Needles and spools,
All kinds of tools,
And shoes with holes in the toes.
There were tables and chairs,
Bookends in pairs,
A grandfather clock that was broke,
An old brass spittoon,
Some Sunday cartoons,
And a bicycle mssing a spoke.
Four or five hundred old wooden blocks,
Twenty-three pair of grey woolen socks,
A Christmas Edition bottle of Coke,
A board game missing directions,
A bat, a ball, a catcher’s mitt, two baseball card collections,
And a great big rusty tuba. What a joke!
There was other stuff, but you’ve heard enough;
About what was stored in
The Attic of Agnes McDuff.
Part 2
Agnes’ attic was quite special
But not for the things it contained
But for how she had to get there
Please let me explain!
Agnes had a one-story house
A flight of stairs led to the attic.
When she opened up the door,
The light came on automatic.
It opened to a hallway
Where there was another door
Another light, another hall, and more stairs, which
Led back down to the first floor!
Where an elevator waited
To take her up again?
But it had just one button
And it was numbered “10”.
When she pushed it, it was crazy
The elevator turned upon its side,
Grew wheels and drove out on the street
For an amazing ride!
Across a long suspension bridge,
Then underneath a tunnel,
And then it went around and round
Like circling down a funnel!
It dropped upon a railroad track
Hooked onto the caboose
And followed to the roundhouse
Where it finally broke loose.
It turned around a couple times
And ran out toward the street
The elevator ran, of course
Because it had grown two feet!
It ran across an avenue,
Around a lake, and through a park
And then through another tunnel
Where it was very dark.
A mile later it emerged,
At Agnes’ house, by her front door!
The elevator walked inside,
And was on the second floor!!
So that’s how Agnes reached her attic,
Perhaps someday you’ll go there too,
Push the elevator button,
And you’ll find my story’s true!
Part 3
Agnes stood there in her attic
And smiled at all her stuff
That almost ends the story of
The Attic of Agnes McDuff.
But Agnes’ story can never end
Her smile turned to a frown,
Because you see poor Agnes
Forgot how to get back down!!
PwL May 1, 2015
Some times I just need to laugh. Happy May Day, HP!!
Christopher Barnes
Feb 2014
You and I were the best of friends,
We did everything together,
As the spring months came to their ends,
We waited for the start of the summer,
We had odd jobs at the start,
But the money wasn't enough,
To keep us that far apart,
we spent our time looking through old stuff,
We would listen to the old radio in the attic,
turning through the channels to find the right static,
to sing the songs of our Summer Playlist,
every song was a time we cherished,
When the Summer started to fade,
We couldn't see each other everyday,
School started and we had seperate classes,
Our classes together went by the fastest,
When the weekend came,
Back to the attic,
The radio station was always the same,
We turn it to the same summertime static,
When winter came the snow did too,
The months dragged on until Christmas came,
We went to the attic for something to do,
That radio station always stayed the same,
Some new songs were added to our Summer Playlist,
Some new memories were made to be cherished,
No matter the time of the year,
We always knew the radio was there,
To play our favorite station of summer static,
Singing our Summer Playlist songs,
Singing together in the attic,
The only place where we belong,
A New Year starts and the snow goes away,
We start hanging out again everyday,
There has been another year of being true friends,
The Seasons change and we start all over again
Back to the Attic in the summer sun,
It started off strange but then came the fun,
We'd changed over the year, but we still loved the attic,
The Radio's broken, but we still love the static.
We did everything together,
As the spring months came to their ends,
We waited for the start of the summer,
We had odd jobs at the start,
But the money wasn't enough,
To keep us that far apart,
we spent our time looking through old stuff,
We would listen to the old radio in the attic,
turning through the channels to find the right static,
to sing the songs of our Summer Playlist,
every song was a time we cherished,
When the Summer started to fade,
We couldn't see each other everyday,
School started and we had seperate classes,
Our classes together went by the fastest,
When the weekend came,
Back to the attic,
The radio station was always the same,
We turn it to the same summertime static,
When winter came the snow did too,
The months dragged on until Christmas came,
We went to the attic for something to do,
That radio station always stayed the same,
Some new songs were added to our Summer Playlist,
Some new memories were made to be cherished,
No matter the time of the year,
We always knew the radio was there,
To play our favorite station of summer static,
Singing our Summer Playlist songs,
Singing together in the attic,
The only place where we belong,
A New Year starts and the snow goes away,
We start hanging out again everyday,
There has been another year of being true friends,
The Seasons change and we start all over again
Back to the Attic in the summer sun,
It started off strange but then came the fun,
We'd changed over the year, but we still loved the attic,
The Radio's broken, but we still love the static.
I wrote this poem a long time ago, but I just added the final four lines tonight. I hope you like it.