They call me Momma
These two kids
But, Oh!
They make me crazy—
I’m hungry
I’m thirsty
Look at me
Look—
The toys are on the floor but who is gonna
Pick them up
I will
Oh! But when they cry
It seems like Nonstop sometimes
I’m grumpy
I’m tired
Look at me
Look—
The dishes are in the sink but who is gonna
Wash them
I will
Oh! But when they scrape their knees
It seems like I have no clue
What I am doing
Look
Look at me
Tugging
Two tiny hands
Down the hall
Here I go again
Failing
NOT
Doing my job and
I am
Running in circles but
The work seems like an Endless loop
Where
is
The Joy of being a Momma
(Now read from bottom to top)
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Quoth
Unnoticed, the clock struck into the next day. Before my eyes, as midnight came and went, the words on the pages over which I poured blurred together. Meaningless under my over-tired gaze, they looped around themselves, slowly winding lines of text twisting themselves into knots as I watched, barely awake enough to do more than notice the change.
By Alexander McEvoya day ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Wow! Best!
This was amazing! I loved it! I did a poem like this as well but it's known as a Palindrome poem or Mirrored poem because at the end of the poem, I repeat the lines in reverse order. I'll share mine with you. I hope you like it
Loving this!💖💕