Authors in the Attic February 2025: LOVE AND ANTI-LOVE

Miss Wapeaberry

Mr. Ramsbottom

Zuli

POEM ABOUT LOVE by Kangaroo Rat I don't know yet what love is like, I preferred learning to ride a bike. People will tell you what they think, But some opinions really do stink. This poem won't help you figure out, What this love thing is really about. It is just a poem that's made by me, A confused boy and a pen flying free. One day I think that I'll understand, Why this love thing is so freakin grand. Today ain't the day but it will come, But that is totally okay, I love my mum.

Lightning Man: 

• I come to you now

To share my poem

• All about my loves

So that you may know'em

1. The first of the bunch will not surprise

For even to the commoner, it's nice on the eyes

• The wise words of Solomon, come first to my head

It resembles a flock of goats, come from Gilead

• It's luscious brown top, and fine crusted sides

The pumpkin pie is where my heart lies

1. The next is, for most present, a less desirable food

But it is yet to fail, in bringing up my mood

• “How much more doth beauty beauteous seem”

This food looks fair, but fairer we it deem 

• For that buttery taste which doth in it live.”

This fine quote from Shakespeare, to us, did he give

• In my humble opinion, there is no greater dish

Than a simple plate, adorned with a fish

1. And to you, my third lover, who I boast of tonight

With my words passion, I'll bring you delight

• No dusty old codger, has adequate citation

To place you high enough, to your appropriate station 

• Your glorious curves, your jiggling form

Your sweetness lingers, causing my emotions to storm

• Your stoic figure, and you memorable touch

To keep any distance, is simply too much

• If I lacked you in my life, ‘twould be more than a loss

My succulent lover, my Cranberry Sauce 

• Now this is my heart, worn out on my sleeve

The deep fathoms of my love, are hard to believe

• This list is a glimpse, into my struggles and woes

Of my lovers, my foods, and my inexplicable lows

• Do not be dismayed, do not be alarmed

For as long as I'm feed, I will bring no one harm

 

My observations on the actors of "Jane Eyre"

Beautiful spectres

Floating before me, born of

Flesh and blood yet

Made fantastic by the

Roles they play.

A start

Unsure

Time

Patience

Roles take form, like

A mantle settling

A veil drawing over their very nature

Yet combining with that nature

Bringing something more than the two to life.

Literary specters

Shades of principle

Walking beside reality

In invitation

In warning

Changing the spirits in the

Flesh and blood 

Held captive under their theatrical spell. 

-Zoey Zephyr

Midnight, Sisters and Shakespeare

I was so impressed: they all wrote these down in about five minutes or less right before our Authors in the Attic event tonight. Love it!! 

Miss Tulip

Midnight Vision

Stars fell as angels fallen from heaven.

The wind danced, whispering secrets to all those who would listen.

The ocean slept, its yawns crashing onto the shore.

The moon mourned, causing the owls to weep.

And you dreamt as if a fairy had kissed your dreams.

Miss Cupcake

Shakespeare

Shakespeare is a piece of art

And it is the part

That makes your heart

Take flight.

Mister Waffle

Maia

Maia is so sweet

She makes mine heart beat.

And when she sings

She makes mine heart have wings.

Miss Butterfly

Penelope

Lots of drool and lots of shirts,

Lots of poops and lots of burps.

Lots of giggles, lots of coos,

Lots of toys that jiggle for you.

Beautiful baby, beautiful child...

Glad you could be there all my life!

Zoey Zephyr

Shakespeare

I must be clear

About Shakespeare:

It's a little queer

So I must sit near

So I can hear.

Alas, I fear

I shed a tear

When lovers dear

In trouble steer

And death does leer.

Ahhhh...Shakespeare.

4th of July Celebration Pt 2

Unrest has been gathering. From my governor’s desk, I looked out as the sun set over Boston harbor. Life had been simple for me, laid out by my father. He sent me to learn about commerce and government from the best college in the colonies: Harvard. 

All I set out to do, I achieved. As a Speaker representing Massachusetts just twenty years ago, I obtained gold from Mother Britain to reimburse our colony after our victory against the French and the Indians. 

Despite the opposition from John Adams, I persuaded our legislature to exchange our paper money when it became obsolete. Out of my drawer I took a letter I received from Adams in which he said I “understood the subject of coin and commerce better than any man I ever knew in this country”. From such a notable figure, it was an honor to receive such praise.

Now as a judge and governor I was able to do even more good for this great colony of America. For England’s honor and God’s glory. 

But the colonists didn’t see this. 

On top of my desk was the Stamp Act of 1765, sent from England. What was the English government thinking? These were ridiculous taxes to expect from the colonies. We had prospered, yes, but our prosperity could increase if we were allowed to invest in ourselves instead of sending our money back to the Motherland’s coffers.

But my opposition had been ignored and the Stamp Act was in effect. I sighed, and put the documents back in their places. Time to go home. Smiling to myself, I imagined the scene I would find. Lydia, the maid opening the door, soft candles lighting the way to the dining room where the cook would be laying out supper for myself and my five remaining children. I would smile at the seat where my wife used to sit. My thoughts became wistful. Losing my Margaret and our last child still hurt, even after eleven years. 

Supper was underway when a loud banging came from the door. Lydia screamed and I ran to the front window. A large mob had gathered and was blockading the door. 

“Everyone, out!” I yelled. The rest of the household came out of the kitchen, but when they heard the yelling, hurriedly returned and left out the back, taking my children with them. 

“Governor Hutchinson!” a figure holding a torch yelled from the front of the mob. The angry shouts mellowed to muttering as the man took charge. “We won’t pay your Stamp Tax. It’s an abomination to our rights.” 

The crowd screamed out their assent.

“We want you to write to England, send out an official correspondence and let them know we won’t be paying it.”

My blood boiled. I didn’t like this tax any more than the rest of them, but anarchy was not going to rule this colony. I refused.

The mob entered, and I fled. When we returned, my house had been gutted. The bowl from my mother and the vase from my wedding were in shards on the street.

Fifteen years later, my children are divided. Some remained in America, while others followed me to England. After what has become known as the “Boston Tea Party,” I had suggested a change in the manner of government to my superiors in England. Somehow, the colonists got copies of my letters and accused me of fighting against their life and liberties. The threats became too much for me to stay. 

Now I fear there isn’t much time left for me. My great-grandmother had been driven from England--her homeland-- because of her Puritan beliefs. Now I suffered the same fate for my political beliefs--driven from my homeland to die on foreign soil. 

Looking up at my daughter, the only one who had stayed with me, I told her: 

“I would rather have died in a cottage of America, than the grandest house of Britain.”

4th of July Celebration Pt 1

FREEDOM

Wapeaberry

It's the longing in every person's heart

The power that comes from standing apart.

But when hard times come and push becomes shove

We seek for each other to help our brother up.

Freedom is one that comes with a cost

Willing to fight what others have lost.

The wanting to fix what others have broke

The strength to fight harder when there's no longer hope.

To work for the cause that brings glory to God

To sacrifice life for what you know is right.

To fight for the dream that others have lost 

To cause deliverance to those that are bought.

Freedom is one that comes with a cost

But don't give up, fighter, the cause is not lost.

AMERICA

by Kangaroo Rat

Boom! Boom! Red, white and blue

I'm an American thru and thru

This land will be forever free

If we protect our liberty

God sent Chris Columbus here

So I can be an engine...fixer.

Freedom

by Spooner

Freedom with joy, with joy,

Freedom with everything

And that guys

We all need freedom

To all be happy-ness.

FREE

by Zoey Zephyr

Free to eat

Free to spit

Free to use my clever wit;

But when used to hurt someone

My freedom just might soon be gone.

Free to read

Free to roam

Free to call you on my phone;

But when used to prank and tease

My freedom flees just like the breeze.

Free to breathe

Free to live

Free to donate, love and give;

But when used to steal or kill

I'll find my freedom soon is nil.

Free to serve

Free to create

Free to juggle cup, bowl and plate;

This freedom's kept when other's is saved

So guard their freedoms to the grave.

Laundry, Cow dung, Cheese, COVID and Bears...oh my!

There once was a pile of laundry.

It lived in the midst of the pottery.

The first day was fine

But then he did find

He was covered with cream and strawberries.

--Miss Butterfly

There once was a pile of cow dung,

That made people flee from the house-tung,

And there they were fed

From the horses shed

And missed the big pile of cow dung.

--Miss Butterfly, dedicated to Dad

CHEESE

I once stepped on a package of cheese,

Which then let out a tremendous wheeze.

Then blew up my car

And turned into tar

These are all idiosyncrasies.

--Kangaroo....Rat

There once was a great big bear

Who was covered all over with hari.

One day he did shave

Oh boy! What a knave!

And now all the people do stare.

--Zoey Zephyr

If ever your dad is a poo poo
And makes you some fractions to fight through
Just hold your head high
And give them a try
Til nat'rally them you can do, do. 
--Mark Wilson

COVID

From China it came like a blitz,

This Corona that's giving us fits!
But people keep dying
So we'll keep on trying
To wear masks and cough in our pits. 
--Zoey Zephyr

From Ribs to Dreams

So this is a fun little poem I just finished. I actually wrote each stanza separately over the period of a few years as I heard funny things that inspired the first lines. Enjoy! It's light hearted and will hopefully bring a smile:

Ribs of Steel and Abs of Bone

(What a minute, is that right?)

Pull-ups, sit-ups, honing tone

Tear up the couch and ditch the phone

You’re working out tonight.

A Hand to Shield, a Hand to Fight

It’s good, you see God gave us two.

Left hand to struggle with great might,

Only to be pinned. Then the right

Comes in to tickle the unwary foe.

Fluffy Brains and Hollow Heads

Giddy laughter on the rise

Signs that it is time for bed

Eyes and cheeks are turning red

From witty comments and replies

Blurry head and sleepy eyes

Thoughts are muddled, lids are low.

An inner ocean meets dark skies,

Crickets chirp and baby cries.

As off to dreamy dreams we go.