Page 11
Poetry Page:
Pastas’ Lament
There’s spaghetti on the ceiling,
Strung this way and that,
Strand upon strand,
Ever stuck where it’s at.
‘Twas a contest of sorts, see who could make
Pasta behave in such admirable shape.
Turn upon turn, all four in a row,
Eager, impatient, for spaghetti to throw.
With eyes on the sky, strands in hand,
Pasta flies with abandon from woman and man.
With shrieks and howls gazes did strain,
To see what fell, and what did remain.
Spaghetti on the ceiling is stuck in the air,
Entwined in each other, flung with flair.
Lonely they be from their vantage above but
Placed with great care, and with great love.
Mike John Steeves
Copyright ©2008 Mike John Steeves
Romance Writer
I live in medieval castles
romance the handsome knight.
I race into the future and bring
the past to light.
My pen pours out words
on page after page,
plotting exciting
characters to age.
I ride the high seas,
tropical winds in my sails,
dreaming of lost memories
and writing fairy tales.
- Carrillee Collins Burke
