Thanksgiving Dinner, a poem

Thanksgiving is the only time
my childhood enemies

Come back to mom and daddy’s house
and cheerf’ly pass the peas.

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Photo Credit: Andrik Langfield

©2019 Chelsea Owens

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Is There an Echo?

Please go, pick up your
Backpack, mess

Please go, pick up your
Backpack, mess

Please go, pick up your
Backpack, mess

WHAT, MOM?! WHAT??
Why are you stressed?

Why are you, just now, telling me
To get my backpack;
Clean my mess?

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Photo Credit: Ratiu Bia

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Towels, a poem

My life revolves around the towels

I know, because, within my bowels

I can’t but hear, in hopeless growls,

A noise that sounds like feral fowls

As all my smiles turn down to scowls,

When faced with folding yet more towels.

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Photo Credit:
LumenSoft Technologies

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens