I need to reach that phone box pleaded a girl at the station.
Many adults walked around her, but no one offered help.
Along came a little boy, a rascal, a neighbor, not a friend, a whelp.
He immediately became her stepstool without a second’s hesitation.
Categories:
stepstool, nostalgia,
Form: Free verse
A ceiling lightbulb blew and hark!
I needed to replace it.
For reading in the semi-dark?
I knew I couldn’t face it.
I found the bulbs and had to climb,
While worried about falling,
Up on a stepstool, taking time
So not to end up sprawling.
Removed the old, screwed in the new
And checked if things looked brighter,
Not knowing then, as now I do,
‘Twas fodder for a writer.
And thus, a topic for my poem,
When life’s not too exciting,
Is often found within my home,
With lightbulb thoughts alighting.
Categories:
stepstool, inspiration,
Form: Rhyme
I got a splinter from the
Laundry basket made of straw.
I banged into the stepstool
So my shin is red and raw.
I knocked a chair right over
And it fell onto my toe.
Another one’s still injured
So I’ve only eight to go.
These wounds are all the products
Of my sad attempt to clean
Which is obviously, not to me,
A part of my routine.
Categories:
stepstool, me,
Form: Rhyme
My parents had a chandelier
When I was growing up,
Above the table in the room
Where company would sup.
Its crystal doodads dangled down
And sparkled in the light,
Creating quite a festive mood
When it was lit at night.
But cleaning it was quite a chore
And had to be entrusted
To someone up on tiptoe,
On a stepstool, to be dusted.
Plus once a year or so, I guess,
Each droplet got a bath,
Which adds to lots of hours of work,
If you just do the math.
I always found that chandelier
Too gaudy for my taste,
A little bit pretentious
For the home where it was based.
Yet when I'm at a venue
With a glitzy chandelier,
I envision my old dining room,
My mem'ry crystal clear.
Categories:
stepstool, home, light,
Form: Rhyme