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Click hereTent
a segment of my yard
plays host to a renegade nylon tent
of fiberglass pole persuasion.
it escaped one summer afternoon
was never hunted down.
We know where it is hiding.
It was crummy to sleep in
my head and feet touch shroud
at once
Occasionally it perambulates
breeze propelled
for reasons not worth pondering,
it has become a sight of gentle, but small bemusement
one night it failed to surround me at fire pit,
me and my ember stirring stick seated on a folding aluminum chair
I barked and howled and recited the 23rd psalm.
Tent will never try that again
someday, it wishes, Wind will blow
polite to her, sleek dome screened in 2-man
tricked out, silver zipper, bronze stake
rip stop top shelf sleeper with fly,
ooh bliss
I read this after discovering there was poetry at literotica the same time I saw that there was a place that told you about new poems....it was the one that caught my attention. I am very glad you did not throw this away as silly, because first of all, silly is a good thing, when it plays out like this.
Seattle says it perfectly. This poem carried me to the bitter end. Poor misunderstood tent.
Thanks for the romp sp.
you know, it is true when I say that I came back to read this several times, because it was so humorous, sorry, especially the turmoil that this tent has caused you, I have never read personification of camping equipment before. You rock
Many smithpeter poems are all but incomprehensible to non-cogentsia.
So approach each one
in tense
trepidation.
This one makes perfect sense,
is well and wittily written,
wilely tent with wryly sensed
anticipation.
Did smithpeter fuck up?
Waiting intently
You almost fooled me on this one--it started out so normal, and I pictured you watching the tent through passing time, laughing--but then I hit that last part, which is pure smithpeter whimsy. :)