Friday, February 1, 2008


Mona, the benevolent Overlord of poetry Friday, tells us the word of the day is "birthday." Make it so.

three guttering candles tilt drunkenly on the uncut cake
torn wrapping paper swirls like autumn leaves
balloons float as ghosts

the birthday girl runs in circles
around the toy-strewn room
laughing wildly
her crying little sister the center of her orbit

mom's orbit is straying these days
from its well established paths
as she retreats to the bathroom
and locks the door
for the rest of the afternoon


Eric Shonkwiler said...

I'll be damned if I'm not flattered by the link. Thank you.

Mother of Invention said...

Hey, neat one..I love "candles tilt drunkenly"! You never can get those suckers to stand all uniformly straight.

And I guess b-days are hard on the mom's who organise them, although I'm not sure if that's what byou meant. maybe McDonald's has the right idea..a lot easier!

Clowncar said...

De nada, Eric.

Mom, the poem was just about a single Mom overwhelmed by sugared up birthday kids. No great meaning to it, just a snapshot of a life.

Maggie said...

I've been that mom for the afternoon, on occasion. Heh.

Mona Buonanotte said...

Oh yeah, been there! (Not in the bathroom all afternoon, but a nice long nap sure helps!)

Clowncar said...

M and M - I've never actually locked the door, but I've been that Dad as well (there's actually some darker biographical content to that poem involving bio-mom, but I'll keep it to myself under the guise of poetic ambiguity).