Monday's Poem: Inside Outside Air

Inside Outside Air

Air is bouncing,

bouncing in air,

inside a bubble,

bouncing up there.

Air is floating,

floating in air,

inside a bubble,

floating up there.

Air is soaring,

soaring in air,

inside a bubble,

soaring up there.

Soapy, soapy bubbles,

cuddling inside air,

bouncing, floating, soaring,

in outside air up there.

                               Anne Knowles

Monday's Poem: A Book Comes Knocking

A Book Comes Knocking

Someone was knocking,

knock, knock on my door.

Then, in walked a book

and sat on the floor.

"Come join me," it said,

"and open me please."

I opened its pages.

Oh! What did I see?

Page after page,

but nothing was written,

not huff, not puff,

not mitten, or kitten.

Not Goldi, not locks,

not pokey pup paws,

not tailor, not duckling,

not Potter, or Oz.

"Write me a story,"

the book sadly said.

"Help fill me all up

with words from your head.

Start Over the hill,

or A long time ago.

Start Under the oak tree

or Up where there's snow."

So I told a story,

and each word that I said,

danced straight to the page

from inside of my head.

I finished with happily

ever and after,

and you should have heard

the book and its laughter.

                                   Anne Knowles