A walk

I will go with you for a walk around the lake, but not on this hot day. I will go with you, when it rains, in the morning, or at the sunset. I'll make my way thorough deep snow, and in the freezing rain. Just don't ask me to walk with you in such hot, humid day. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/28/2012

Rats

Marching stiffly to the sound of a rat catchers's pipe. There is a big cheese in the pond. Running toward it, mouth is watering, ready to taste it. Wet rats are swimming back to the banks. Big gold cheese? It was nothing there. Where is the rat catcher? Lets tear him in to the pieces! Lets eat him! The catcher is already playing his pipe in another town. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/22/2012

Wrong place

Wrong building, wrong door. I am clutching an invitation in my hand. Wrong building, wrong door, and a wrong name, too. It is time to catch a train to my town, go home and cook a supper. I see your eyes, your smile ... Wrong person, too. I boarded a wrong train, which takes me to the places I have never been before. There will be a new morning soon, new dew will wash away all yesterday's mistakes. Why I still see your face, your smiling eyes, when I know nothing lasts? Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/19/2012

Little mole

My little mole is building again another mountain mainly out of his vivid imagination and worries, justified or projected. Then he jumps back into his hole, slams the door shut. "There is a big mountain outside of the door." To his bed he crawls. Where are my worries? You left them on your mountain. He sleeps. Then he wakes up, makes a cup of coffee, when he drinks it, he thinks: It's clean up day. He opens the door, sweeps couple of old leaves. Where is my mountain? It is not the mountain at all: just a little mole hill. I decorated my mountain with all kind flowers colors of rainbow I could find to bloom all year around. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, April 2012

Broken mothers

Broken hearts of broken mothers, broken wings of cemetery angels. Broken hearts of poor mothers and the babies are for sale. The babies from poor cribs to their own rooms full of toys, with a good school, good food, vacation abroad, great carriers, stop from time to time in a quiet moment and they ask: Who am I? Where did I come from? Sometimes is better do not know. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville,2/2012

Character defects

I don't have small feet and hands, and I can not stretch six feet tall. And I didn't tell you yet I have so many character defects you could cover with them a bottom of your aquarium instead of sand. Your little fish will be gulping my character defects and turning them into red, green and yellow, or they will be sleeping slowly moving their fins. They will eat you out of the house, because suddenly they will develop a ravenous appetite. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 3/2012

Pain

Describe your pain on the scale from one to ten. One is a rock in your shoe you have to take out. Two is a dirt in your eye. Three is a bee sting, if you are not allergic to bee sting. Four is Sun burn when you have to spend whole night sleeping on your tummy. Five is when you see love of your life walking away with another gal. Six and up ... I don't want to know. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Pottsville, 5/8/2012

Paranoia 2

They are sniffing. What are they sniffing? I don't know. What do you know? They are sniffing. Go away, Salieri. You didn't change your socks. You stink. Copyright (c) Marie Neumann Spring 2007