|The Teddy Bear Pilot
At night the house rotated,
tipped towards dark corners.
Stuff welled up,
slid among strange smells,
bumping underground walls,
while all above remained taut,
glued in place, except teddy bear pilot,
world war fighter ace,
who steered us out of dangers jaws.
He sat stiff lipped,
paw calmly clawed the joy stick.
Rode everywhere yet nowhere,
sticking cellotape to our snoring forms
to keep us from floating through lightning storms.
As dawn approached he laid landing strips,
steam hissing from his fur clogged pores,
then carefully climbed into bed,
assuming a glassy eyed supine form.
20 Jul 08
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which world war?
i must say i love the first stanza, as it relates to the house...as it moves on to the bear i become less enthralled.
"supine", i think, was a bit much at that point. too wordy. and "form" kind of sits on top of "pores" and "storms" too easily...they all collide, edging into the word-space.
still, pretty good.
you have a frisky playful way with words
- i am liking
although it is not about him, this poem reminds me of 'super ted'. thanks for bringing back fond memories larry.
sorry, forgot to add. the first stanza is my favourite.
I must confess i use a lot of aids that might make it appear so.
Larry props man Lark
i just found myself sneezing from something i found in my grandmother's attic.
love your stories,
dust and memories.
Me and my teddy bear go everywhere together and get into late night disco's free as his extraordinarily wild dancing attracts huge crowds wherever and whenever he goes.
Larry e go's Lark
i enjoyed the little tale, reminiscent of pixar. but i'm finding that poems doing with the punctuation what this one is doing are almost as ugly on the eye as the ones that capitalize the first word of every line. know what i mean? of course you do!
Lightening or lightning? This is sweet, like Snoopy and the Red Baron tale. The imagination of a child (or a grown-up 'child') is staggering in it's details.