Dr. Louis Pasternak Skullstench: Stealth Poet
Poetry Assignment #15: Make-Up-a-Word Poem
My Mom, the Piandroid
When my mother plays piano
the tendons in her hand jump up and down
practically burst through her skin
like the wires of the piano
snuck out of their wooden coffin
the night before
to play inside a real person
My dad is definitely grosser than my mom in real life, but somehow gross poems about her are just grosser. Huh.
Louis, I believe it’s the surprise factor of pairing mothers and grossness. Fathers are expected to be a little more gross (true or not). Mothers are not. So it’s unexpected and (according to some people) funny when mothers are really gross. I still prefer poems that explore the majesty of our beautiful world.
Talent Show Possibility: I am good at armpit music.
Miss S said no.
Michelle at Today’s Little Ditty has the Poetry Friday Roundup today! Enjoy:>)