Lost and Found (poem)

We buried Grampa in the sand
That day down at the beach
We buried him and off we went
To get an ice cream each

The sun was high so off we splashed
And had a happy day.
Having been at play for hours
We forgot where Grampa lay!

With Grampa buried in the sand
We got a little frit
If we left without our Gramps
We’d be in for it!

My brother, Billy, pondered
And glanced along the sand
“A-ha!” He cried. “I’ve cracked it!
The answer’s close at hand!”

He stopped an old man walking:
He was detecting metal
Beeping up and down the beach
And finding an old kettle

We asked if we could borrow
That beeper for a while
And set off up and down the beach
Cov’ring every mile

Eventually we got the beeps
That we’d been looking for,
From Grampa’s fifty fillings…
And then we heard his snore!

We quickly dug up Grampa
And woke him from his sleep;
Hugged him really tightly,
But never spoke a peep.

We never spoke again of that
Until all these years later
When we dug a hole again
A Grampa-shaped crater.

We dug down deep into the sand;
We carried on undaunted
Left his ashes there to rest.

It’s what he would have wanted.


Creative Commons/ Stephanie Nurnberg

When The Zombie Came To Call (poem)

When the zombie came to call,
There was no answer at 56.
54 ignored it, thinking
Ethan up to his tricks.

52 said “no thank you”
Without opening his door.
Number 50 didn’t respond
(She can’t hear anymore)

48 through 42
Had all gone into town
40 had just got out of the bath
And was in her dressing gown.

Not a one even noticed
The zombie on their drive,
Taking for granted the pleasure
Of simply being alive.

And that was how it continued
For most of the rest of the day.
Life can be awful lonesome
For a zombie who just wants to play


Picture courtesy of: https://www.flickr.com/photos/vogelium/3481252317/