• The smooth, glass walls of the house
• Easy to see through, hard to break
• Light squeaking beneath my feet
• Sounds similar to that of a mouse
Squeaking Wheels
Miracle Man
8/22/2024
Wheels that squeak loudest,
nearly always get greased first.
That's why folks protest?
A camera occasionally caught us sealed within
album leaf’s
ten years, twenty years later;
folios still fastened to a distant past.
I don’t miss you, and this is not a love letter.
Too many cuts with thin edged blades;
invisible lacerations
that nonetheless bled into words,
and those words hemorrhaged.
Last night, in the backyard, a mouse died,
but before it did,
it called out to the owl that killed it:
Better to die now, then as a small squeak, only wounded,
damaged just enough to bleed on,
inside a memory of what once was.
I hear a squeaking
A bird?
An animal scratching paws or claws on glass?
My light fixture cord is dancing
I concentrate a bit harder.
The noise is coming from the base of this light fixture
It sound like a raccoon is in the attic twisting the bulb.
It is making a hard rusty sound
Screech screech screech
The cord of this light fixture appears to be possessed
Could It be bewitched?
I listen and watch in disbelief, as the screeching continues
Wishing it had been a bird
Year - end night here waits to birth
Lovelier princess, vaccine girl
Mountain high does labour earth
Squeaking rat now, leaps for a whirl.
Syllable count: 7/8/7/8
*4th Place* in the following contest (judged on Dec. 24, 2020)
Dec. 18, 2020
Christmas Chastushka – Rules Revised Poetry Contest
Contest Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Sitting on a squeaking swing
Alone in the dark as I think of you
A little bit of moon light
Through the leaves
A warm summer night
Next to a tree
That's where I think of you
A little bit of clouds
Spooky as I hear the silence
But terrifying as I think that I am alone
I'm frightened as I think of the darkness
I hear an owl behind me
I hear the summer breeze
I feel the light wind from my left
As I feel the cold from my right
I hear the bugs as they have each other
I hear a party from 5 kilometers South
I hear the owl as he has found his partner
But yet I sit alone on a squeaking swing
The moon is now gone
The party is over
And the owl flew away
My position on the swing is getting soar
My lungs are tired of breathing
My heart is tired of pumping
My eyes are tired of staring at what I can't have
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.