144 of 436

Poetry: Humorous

by Kara Hart

I have a very tiny room,

With a trash can to match.

My trash can has no lid,

Or even a trash hatch.




All my trash goes in,

But before I take it out,

Somehow it ends up spilled

And trash is all about.




In the place it is now sitting,

It has been spilled a lot.

So, if I move it, it won't get spilled,

Is the thing I thought.




I moved it by the door.

I moved it beside my bed,

But because I threw away red paint,

My carpet was turned red.




I moved it inside the closet,

Hoping that it wouldn't spill,

But when I went to pick my clothes,

The falling hangers spilled it still.




I moved the trash can here.

I even moved it there.

But no matter where I moved it,

It is still spilled everywhere.




Finally I saw a place.

A place so very fair.

Why didn't I think of it?

It wouldn't get spilled there!




This place I moved my trash can to,

It works so very well.

Not a piece of trash is spilled,

which is so very swell.




Underneath my desk,

Is where my trash will stay,

For there, it won't get spilled,

Cuz I cant remember where it is,

When I want to throw something away.

Helium, Inc.
200 Brickstone Square Andover, MA 01810 USA