My room was a mess
I left an empty plastic bag
on the floor, by the bed
And when I walked around
It stuck to my feet
And I shook it off
My room, still a mess
Plastic bag stuck to my feet once again
I shook it off, creating bother
But it remained on the same stop
Dirty room, bloody tissues around
Plastic bag next to my bed
It stuck to my feet, burden at it’s finest
I shook it off and left it there
And it waited for our next meeting
The floor in my room almost invisible
Drawing lines on my body
I drew what I felt
What I felt as the bag stuck to me
Disturbance built up in me
But it remained in it’s place
It’s habitat
Floor in my room almost invisible
Lines on my body
I used to draw what I felt
Now I painted it
And the paint dripped everywhere
And the plastic bag in my room
It had nothing to stick to
That’s when it could finally get away from me.
A plastic bag, a windy day,
she's darting, dancing high and low,
coquettish in her flight of fancy,
all in all, a one-bag show;
a street performer with a twist,
I wish you could have seen her,
a holder meant for groceries,
a no-name ballerina.
Erratic, yes, but orchestrated,
it's as if a puppeteer
controlled the choreography,
a protege without a peer.
She soared and swooped, this virtuoso,
then the errant wind was gone,
and I was left to ruminate,
an audience of one.
********
...inspired by 'that scene' in the movie, 'American Beauty,'
once seen never forgotten.
...from the movie, 'American Beauty'
A plastic bag, a windy day,
darting, dancing high and low,
coquettish in her flight of fancy,
all in all, a one-bag show;
a street performer with a twist,
I wish you could have seen her,
a holder meant for groceries,
an no-name ballerina.
Erratic, yes, but orchestrated,
it's as if a puppeteer
controlled the choreography,
a protege without a peer;
she soared and swooped, this virtuoso,
then the errant wind was gone,
and I was left to ruminate,
an audience of one.
...from the movie, 'American Beauty'
A plastic bag, a windy day,
darting, dancing high and low,
coquettish in her flight of fancy,
all in all, a one-bag show;
a street performer with a twist,
I wish you could have seen her,
a holder meant for groceries,
an no-name ballerina.
Erratic, yes, but orchestrated,
it's as if a puppeteer
controlled the choreography,
a protege without a peer;
she soared and swooped, this virtuoso,
then the errant wind was gone,
and I was left to ruminate,
an audience of one.
A plastic bag, a windy day,
she's darting, dancing high and low,
coquettish in her flight of fancy,
all in all, a one-bag show;
a street performer with a twist,
I wish you could have seen her,
a holder meant for groceries,
a no-name ballerina.
Erratic, yes, but orchestrated,
it's as if a puppeteer
controlled the choreography,
a protege without a peer.
She soared and swooped, this virtuoso,
then the errant wind was gone,
and I was left to ruminate,
an audience of one.
A plastic bag, a windy day,
she's darting, dancing high and low,
coquettish in her flight of fancy,
all in all, a one-bag show;
a street performer with a twist,
I wish you could have seen her,
a holder meant for groceries,
a no-name ballerina.
Erratic, yes, but orchestrated,
it's as if a puppeteer
controlled the choreography,
a protege without a peer.
She soared and swooped, this virtuoso,
then the errant wind was gone,
and I was left to ruminate,
an audience of one.
********
...inspired by 'that scene' in the movie, 'American Beauty,'
once seen never forgotten and alone worth the price of admission!
...from the movie, 'American Beauty'
A plastic bag, a windy day,
darting, dancing high and low,
coquettish in her flight of fancy,
all in all, a one-bag show;
a street performer with a twist,
I wish you could have seen her,
a holder meant for groceries,
an no-name ballerina.
Erratic, yes, but orchestrated,
it's as if a puppeteer
controlled the choreography,
a protege without a peer;
she soared and swooped, this virtuoso,
then the errant wind was gone,
no pirouettes to look upon,
and I was left to ruminate,
an audience of one.
A plastic bag appeared in my dream,
Polluting my thoughts of love
A sign or trickery it may seem
Sent from way above
I look outside and see the garden
My face begins to sag
Oh Lord, I beg your pardon
A rose in a plastic bag
The cashier guy was eyeing her
In ways enthusiastic.
She thought that he was cute as well;
His smile was just fantastic.
She took her ponytail apart,
Removing the elastic;
And struck a sexy pose, a move
A bit extreme and drastic.
Alas, it didn’t work because
He uttered, quite sarcastic.
“Calm down there, miss – and would you like
A paper bag or plastic?”
You know what it feels like,
with a plastic bag on your head,
how you struggle to breathe,
your lungs start to beg.
Panic builds up inside,
instinctively you fight back,
trying to rip this bag off
you want to survive.
Time slows down,
every second hurts,
in and out on conscious thought,
trying to figure a way out.
Well welcome to my world,
where anxiety thrives,
a plastic bag on my head,
is what it feels like.
Contest: Paper or plastic - Susan Burch
M.Mahauariki © 2012
2nd Place
PLASTIC BAG PLAGIARISM
I thought it was all over but I have
Been assaulted by a plagiarists’ wave,
And I felt used, abused, dirty .
I’ve received insults about a plastic bug (about thirty)
And a plastic bog. Some have referred
To my plastic as being merely big; or claimed (and erred)
To have seen how my poor dead plastic begs.
But the most heartlessly cruel dregs
Were making “plastic dog” jokes,
Not to mention the bombastic pseudo-erudite folks
With their sarcastic references (often sick)
To elastic clastics in the mastic,
And how my “idiot” dog was enthusiastic,
Though drastic and rustic.
From people’s cruelty there seems no refuge
But, who knows? When they get to the pearly gate
They could come face to face with a huge
Plastic dog determining their fate.
DOG AND PLASTIC BAG
- THE END
My dog went after a plastic bag one day
Caught it in mid-flight, I’d say
Stopped its ascent to greater glory
But that’s not the end of the story
Bag got caught on the poor dog’s head
After a struggle the dog was dead
Sorry, no more poems about bag or dog
To amuse and hold readers agog
PLASTIC BAG : THE EARLY DAYS
They said we all had a shining future, with bright lights,
Advertising panels, and supermarket voice-over mentions
Of high-quality “cellophane presentation wrappers”
Of fruit - suitable even as a gift wraps
We enjoyed peer support from other plastic bags
We were all in it together like boot camp
We had an important (fruit )role of “protecting and preserving”
Just like the door motto on police black-and-whites
And they told us there was the possibility of recycling -
A change of career in our later years,
Maybe as a drinks canister or a garden hose-pipe.
I was even thinking. . . pension plan
But disillusion set in early, with my first experience
Of rotten apples inside my “gift wrap” skin, and smelly fungus growing.
Man I could see it all in a flash - it was a set-up, a con-job,
We were just unimportant plastic bags, which people throw away.
Wind draft caught my loosened bag-tie one afternoon
And I was up and away, through the door without a by-your-leave
Mmmmm. . . fresh air and chilling with the seagulls
And the rest is history
PLASTIC BAG MEETS TERMINATOR
I give the illusion of strength and security
But I’m only plastic-moulded and mostly empty of all thought,
Full of hot air and entirely transparent:
And I’m afraid that I can’t act,
Said the bag to Arnie
Or said Arnie to the bag.
Yesterday while on my way to a supermarket I saw a little girl of perhaps five leaning at
a tree close to the road and watching a blue plastic bag which was drifting in the wind.
She looked very sad with her light blue eyes and her blond hair streamed out behind her.
The bag was lifted by a strong blast and I ran after it, crossing the road. A car came and
stopped, waiting for me to cross the road. A younger man on the other side of the road saw
that I wanted to catch the bag and he was also running after it, but the wind drifted the
bag far over the lawn up hills. After some unsuccessful attempts to get hold of the bag he
finally could grab it. I went to him and he gave me the bag and smiled. I then told him
that a little girl was sad about losing that bag. He wished me a nice weekend and I
returned to that little girl still standing near the tree but this time smiling. She shyly
whispered "Thank you", took the bag and ran to her little playmates waiting for her
anxiously in the background.
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