He’s funny looking.
He isn’t a puppy.
I say to Mum
He has sad eyes.
Maybe we can make those sad eyes happy.
I say to Dad
Maybe we can make him fatter.
Does he do tricks?
Maybe you could teach him some.
But I don’t know him
And he doesn’t know me.
So many dogs.
So much noise.
We walk up and down
Looking at the dogs.
So many dogs
But we come back to him.
He looks at me.
I look at him.
He doesn’t bark.
He just looks.
They open his cage.
He just looks
Then he licks my hand.
This is the one I say.
This is the one he says. Pat Simmons © 2015
Week 45: Ignite – The Negatives – 100 words
She hurls the negatives into the sink. Her hand trembles as she attempts to strike a match. It takes three attempts. The negatives ignite. The smell is acrid, much like the bitterness she feels in her gut. So many years of being blackmailed but now it’s over. He’s dead and Bob, her husband, will never know about those photos. She was young and stupid then and she needed the money.
Sorting through his father’s possessions, he finds an envelope.
‘Son, if you’re ever short of cash this is her name and address and this is the negative she never found.’
Pat Simmons © 2015
I’m going to the beach with my grandma.
We’re packing our bag for the day
with sunglasses, swimmers and sunscreen of course
plus lollies to eat on the way.
A cushion for grandma
a beach ball for me,
(I’ll blow it up when we get there)
orange juice, water,
a bucket and spade,
a swim cap to cover my hair,
some towels and a beach mat
and sandwiches too,
(deciding on fillings is hard)
umbrellas and raincoats in case there’s a storm
and, of course, grandma’s Seniors’ Card,
some insect repellent,
a box for the shells
we collect when we go for our walk
and perhaps extra water to cool down our throats
because we just talk, talk and talk.
To hell with Leviticus, I’m going to do it.
My body’s my own if I want to tattoo it.
I’ve saved up some money so mum needn’t know,
Well…..not quite just yet,
Not ’til after I go.
I might get a dragon, or maybe a cupid,
Or ‘I love Lachlan’ – no that would be stupid.
What if he dump’s me? I’d wish I was dead.
Maybe I’ll just get my nose pierced instead.
I’ve saved up some money so dad needn’t know.
Well …… not quite just yet,
Not ’til after I go.
carefully avoiding the creaks,
and take each other’s hand.
At the bottom
towards the door.
Almost afraid to breathe
push it open.
Beneath the twinkling tree lights
sit the gifts.
‘He’s been,’ we whisper,
So pleased that over 70 of my rainforest snails have found a new home. You can visit them at Sydney Wildlife Zoo at Darling Harbour.
Mr. Pickle’s Pet Shop is the pet shop I’ve always wanted to own. However, my own ‘pet shop’ (well, it’s my laundry actually) is currently exploding with lots and lots of lovely baby rainforest snails. These make fascinating and easy to keep pets. So with every copy of 50 Funny Poems for Children in which you can read about Mr. Pickle’s Pet Shop and lots of other fun poems for children, I’m offering 4 baby rainforest snails plus care sheet of course. Just $10.00 + postage for book and babies. Email me at: firstname.lastname@example.org if you’re interested.