The Dictionary Fairy

at night while I lie sleeping
tucked quietly in bed
his tiny feet come creeping
as quiet as the dead

he’s a wingéd little being
smaller than a mouse
he sneaks with no one seeing
through the darkened house

his little wings are dusty
like the books he holds
his breath’s a little musty
and reeks of damp and mold

the Dictionary Fairy
creeps across my bed
and whispers rather scary
things into my head

your vocabulary’s awful,
he hisses in my ear
they ought to be unlawful,
those words that you revere

you sound just like a nitwit
when you say “aiight”
nothing but a dimwit
when you say “that’s tight”

“wicked” means bad morals
and isn’t something “cool”
you’re an insult to the laurels
of your most esteeméd school

what’s become of decent grammar?
have we seen its sad demise?
crushed beneath the hammer
of listening to “yous guys”

then the Dictionary Fairy
opening up his tome,
reads words like “ablutionary”
and “heterochromosome”

all night the wee fiend chatters
foul words into my ears
as if it really matters
if high school takes eight years

© Sarah Whiteley

A re-post from 2011. Attempting to get myself into the mood to write another humorous piece – I have such fun with them once I get into it!

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joyous/fearful

whole-skyed and flying,
soft-rain-pattering,
humming-handed amazement

green-leafed, joyous/fearful,
dancing out-loud
laughing universe

feet grass-grounded,
migrating eyes,
home-hearted wanderlust

this is how, my love,
I love you

© Sarah Whiteley

Every now and then I’m allowed to be silly in love. Happy Valentine’s Day, fellow lovers of love and life!

camellia-img_5414

sew it is

bring me thread
red with want
and thinly shining
ever-binding
unwinding
from my spool

bring me pins
pearl-tipped
and thin as hope
ever-ensuring
securing
seemly seams

bring me needles
bright eyed
and sharp gazed
never erring
to bear the thread
between the pins

bring me shears
unflinching
firmly clenching
that I may cut
the threads
that unruly hang

bring me cloth
tight woven
that I may stitch
a life
that I may mend
the days

sew it is
and sew it shall be

© Sarah Whiteley