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Hannah Everett Poem
My sister likes to doodle
I thought she drew a noodle
She gave me a glare
And tugged at my hair
And told me t'was a poodle.
Copyright © Hannah Everett | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Everett Poem
Just up the river there is a dock,
you'll see it after the slimy rock.
Attached to the dock is an old, rusted boat
inside there’s a ripped, faded coat.
Some say it was owned by two young lovers,
who spent nights there against the wish of their mothers.
Later they married and still used the boat,
until one day it wouldn't float
The current was strong
and they didn't live long,
the canoe flipped
the wife's coat ripped
They screamed in vain
and the two were never seen again
Others say it belonged to a girl
who boated to find a freshwater pearl.
She wore a pink coat.
When she finally found that pearl she began to gloat.
She abandoned her boat,
and her cheap coat.
The girl than bought a large house,
and a new pink blouse
She left her boat at that dock
that lies after the slimy rock.
Many stories go around about the old canoe
that's rusted and covered in mildew
It hasn't been used
Nor has it been abused
But one thing we do know,
the answer to our question may just lurk below
The true story
in all of its glory
is just waiting to be found.
All we have to do is carefully look around.
Copyright © Hannah Everett | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Everett Poem
Swallowed, into the core of the fog
I can't see anything as it surrounds me, digesting me
As I reach out in front of me the fog thickens in triumph for taking another victim
Fear overwhelms me like a sheet over a ghost
I stumble as I walk trying my best to avoid judgement and exclusion
Voices fill my head and discourage me, they laugh at me
I trip on a log as if it were a foot plotting against me
Branches abuse me like a mob of hands slapping, scratching, punching
I went further through, feeling blind
I was unaware of who I was, insults shadowed my conscience
After searching for ages I finally realize there's no way out of the fog,
At least not alone.
Copyright © Hannah Everett | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Everett Poem
Where Had My Father Gone?
It's only a matter of time until someone you love is whisked away,
Taken from home, sent someplace bad. It's then you know, you'll never see them another day
For me it began on a normal day. Someone knocked to deliver terrible news
my father agreed to be sent away, I never knew how much I would lose
He said goodbye and left me home, I never knew I would never see him again
Every night I prayed for him, ending each wish with amen
In my young age I did not understand, where had my father gone?
Months passed and I never saw him, he never wrote
all I had as a memory was his old, worn winter coat
I wore it through the blistering summer
Each day that went by made me feel glummer
Mother cried often and never seemed glad
All I could think was “Where is my dad?”
Still, I did not understand, where had my father gone?
It was a dark, grey day when the dreaded message arrived,
Mother read it and tried not to cry, I never knew how much I’d been deprived
The weather resembled my mother's somber face
She spoke to me in a steady pace
Mother choked as she explained the situation
She told me how father fought and saved our nation
We were now free and father was somewhere better
I realized father wouldn't come home, where had my father gone?
So heed my warning when I say nothing lasts forever,
use your time and cherish it, before forever fades to never.
Copyright © Hannah Everett | Year Posted 2017
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Hannah Everett Poem
There are two tables in our dining room
We only use one
Mother sets both for every meal, laying lace, dishes and delicate glasses
In a trance, she ignores our queries as to why she does it
No one uses the other table
But They do
They are in our house
Each room it’s own mirror
Our night is Their day
They want us here
They want us forever
But Mother and Father won't let us leave
There are two beds in my bedroom
I only use one
I'm told to make both everyday, pulling the covers up and arranging pillows
Cursing as I'm forced to clean a bed I didn't use
No one uses the other bed
But They do
Every night I wake to an outstretched hand reaching for my throat
But Father says it's nothing
Just a nightmare, for we are victims to the darkness
Victims to this house, is what I think
It wants us
They want us
There are two sofas in the living room
We only use one
But both are used, cleaned and sat on frequently
I don't know how
No one uses the other sofa
But They do
They will do whatever it takes to get us
Our lives are trophies to Them
They will win the battle and we will live no longer
For our lives are now Their’s to take
There are three tables in the dining room.
Copyright © Hannah Everett | Year Posted 2020
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