the sleeping giants of Yawnza cove

The napping child of Corinthia,
blowing bubbles from his little piranha mouth
Chirping bluebird, stuck in a blueberry patch, due south

Chores to be done, but never get done!

two racket-making raccoons of rubbish corner,
And Cornish hull hens peck a cloud of dust from the sky of exhaust
When cold bleak steel bars called ‘home’ provide enough light at morning and enough light at night just to read, you become a fighter, eating beans and rice on toast of wheat, Hmph.

 

A classy concubine in rings of pearl,
tangled up in what some might call the world,
pours tea in disdain,
for the scarlet scarfed sisters
fresh from the mists of Maplestead having bathed in citrus sorbet, yet rolled in mud

No chores, indeed!

for today was the day the sleeping giants of Glockinspiel

came through for supplies
reuniting once a year, but twice a day, for just one beer, but never paid..
They were hungry too �"they like chicken �" much to the apprehension of those Cornish hens
     but once outside the mist �"The giants waltzed and played and drank, forgetting that they woke just once a year, for just one day,  so fell fast asleep..

Author's Note

just a dream I had .. no big deal ..

Reviews

[Leona Cieri]

Hm, just a dream? A rather interesting one at that.
I really liked this poem, it was beautifully done but had humour in it as well. It reminded me of... Edgar Allen Poe a little? The funny name part I mean; I'm not quite sure. It seemed to talk, not directly at you, but to itself.
The spacing added to it as well as how you described the events that happened, and the whole chores thing~ that and the "Hmph," added quite the charming attitude in it.
It seems like it could go on, but it's fine the way it ended as well.
Great work! ^^

[Richard]

thank you very much :) I don't know of this edgar allen poe you speak of....

hmm ... well thanks very much :) very nice of you