"rolli" poems
When I was young my mother painted the ceiling with every color there was.
She made the falling stucco and sealant into clouds and rainbows and horses;
horses of blue and purple and green.
One time I left my room and stared all night at the stars,
they were so much more vivid.
You couldn't deny their presence,
they were like little beings coming straight toward you.
Didn't need to look up, you could stare straight forward out of the window and it's like they were looking at you too.
But cautious, they never came close enough for me to grab them and trap them in my hand like a rolli-polly.
There were fireflies that loved to gather like tiny self supporting oil lamps by the tree next to our house.
They would swim around me because they knew they were far too clever for me.
There were toadstools that I would kick out of principal and river rocks that were never smooth enough for the current hadn't the will.
Caves where the ivy would circle for no reason but to give me the best hiding place of all time.
We ate snow that one time, when it had snowed for the one time it would in 7 years.
There was a single stoplight in a square of one tiny block where I would get dizzy riding my bike.
Then the Crawfords would let me ride their horse.
That's where I got stung by a bee for the first time and I fell on the red dirt road and cried and cried.
One time a tornado almost swallowed me whole while my trailer baby-sitter wasn't looking.
I remember asking with all sincerity for the third time how to spell cat.
Lolly-pops adorned the daycare where I watched trolls singing Kokomo.
These are all the good things I can remember,
so I cherish them.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
Have you seen my roli poli.
He was siitting o. My desk
In a purple top hat and a bright
Orange vest.
Have you seen my little buddy
All rolled up in a ball or sittin on
A bar stool sitting up tall.
Has anyone seen him.
He was going on a cruise.
Yesterday he gave a story to
The channel 7 news.
I gues he rolled out. Didnlt even say why.
Roli poli's outa here
Bye. roli poli.
Bye.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
Beware the fuzzy rolligog
That smithers in the myre
(Confuse it not with golliwogs
In fuzzy blue attire)
Beware the rolligogan wrath
(They can breathe fire, you know)
Just feed them up on tigermoth
And bathe them in the snow
Beware the rolli appetite
Which consumes dozy trees
Where zigazots and clambermites
Weave pathways through the leaves
Beware the rolligogan song
There’s poison in its tune
As rolligogan night grows long
Prepare: they’re coming soon.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC