I asked readers to give me a person, place, object, and quest. Janet gave me “housewife, chicago, sponge, winning the lottery,” and I may just be weird, but this is what I came up with:
Once upon a midday, dearie, as I scoured, brisk and cheery,
Over many a stain, with a furious broom across the linoleum floor,
While I flourished, fairly flapping, suddenly there came a pocking,
As of someone gently knocking, knocking at my kitchen’s door.
`’Tis some neighbor,’ I tutted, ‘knocking at my kitchen door,
Only this, and nothing more.’
Ah, faintly I am recalling it was as the autumn leaves were falling,
And each vibrant, falling hue did alight the forest floor.
Eagerly, I awaited morning; -for at next midday’s warning
From my numbers on Chicago – the lotto posted at the store –
For the bare and paltry chance brought by the devils at the store –
To name it here is loss for sure.
And the hopeful rough undaunted scratching of each jaundiced patch
distilled me – filled me with optimistic dreams never felt before;
So that now, to quell the hopes that filled my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some neighbor, requesting respite at my kitchen’s door –
Some nosy neighbor requesting respite at my kitchen’s door –
This is it, and nothing more.’
Presently my breath grew calmer, `clearly they are asking alms for,’
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was caulking, and so gently you came talking,
And so faintly you came knocking, knocking at my kitchen’s door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; –
Sunlight there, and nothing more.
Far along the skyline looking, long I stood there wondering, cooking,
Spouting, dreaming dreams of lives I’d never dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the daylight gave no token,
And the only word there half-spoken, was the gasping breath,`Eleanor!’
This I whispered, and she murmured back the name, `Eleanor.’
Merely this, and nothing more.
Submit to me your own challenge! Preferably poetry related, but I’ll do whatever. If no one submits anything I’ll just write a weird poem.