Tags
creative writing, Insomnia Poems, life, poem, poems on wordpress, poet, Poetry, spilled ink, spilled words, Writing
My bedroom door doesn’t latch,
It makes me a cross patch,
When it wakes me at night,
Giving me such a fright!
With its creaks and its groans,
Metallic hinges moan.
It wakes the dog and he growls
So I block it with towels,
Wedge it shut with a shove!
And a curse to above.
But then the wind blows
And creeeeeaaaak the door goes!
So I pull the windows closed,
But then there’s no air to my nose,
And the dog he does smell,
So I lie there a spell,
But there’s no hope for me now,
I get up, check the towel,
Push the window open wide
And slip back inside,
My warm duvet nest,
Snuggle down, sigh and rest.
Then the wind blows
And creeeaaakkk the door goes!
©️ Juliette Turrell
Oil! Or some lube…whatever.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I tried that! The hinges are just old.
LikeLike
I like it; I like the humour , and the creepiness . and, you know what, the narrow, tight little rhymes work 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks John 😃 it reminds me a bit of the Julia Donaldson books I used to read the children when they were small ‘Room on the broom’ for example, I’ll never be in her league but it’s a similar pattern.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I love her books too esp the Gruffalo 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
🙂 Hmm I enjoyed this.
LikeLiked by 2 people
😃 Good 😌
LikeLiked by 2 people