I'm a kitty.
Meow, meow.
purr, purr,
I have a big fluffy tail.
I want to eat your tail.
Why do the cats run away from me?
Hey cats, where are you?
I pick you up.
What are you doing?
Why do you run away?
I'm a kitty too.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Teeth
I don't like my teeth.
You don't like my teeth!
Why do you keep saying they're lovely?
God, mom is annoying.
I just don't like my teeth.
What does it mean to be a diva?
I'm not a diva.
I'm NOT A DIVA!
I want a cookie.
An animal cookie!!!!
It must be pink.
I'll just pick it out.
You don't like my teeth!
Why do you keep saying they're lovely?
God, mom is annoying.
I just don't like my teeth.
What does it mean to be a diva?
I'm not a diva.
I'm NOT A DIVA!
I want a cookie.
An animal cookie!!!!
It must be pink.
I'll just pick it out.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Cute
This is cute.
That is cute.
Mom is cute. Dad is cute.
Grandma is cute. Grandpa is cute.
The couch is cute.
This bush is cute.
Tomatoes are cute.
Spiders are cute.
An egg is cute.
Kung Fu Panda is cute.
Rocks are cute.
I don't think I understand the definition.
That is cute.
Mom is cute. Dad is cute.
Grandma is cute. Grandpa is cute.
The couch is cute.
This bush is cute.
Tomatoes are cute.
Spiders are cute.
An egg is cute.
Kung Fu Panda is cute.
Rocks are cute.
I don't think I understand the definition.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
FAQs and an Introduction
Why does this blog exist?
My two year old frequently says or does things that are hilarious and I felt like I needed to capture those moments in a poem, a poem technically written by me (her 28 year old mother) and done from the toddler's POV with direct lines from her.
But why?
Because I'm weird.
What poets are influencing this project?
Perhaps Allan Ginsburg?, but let's not place any blame on him for this.
This is Eleanor. She is currently two and adorable.
I hope you enjoy her stream of consciousness style poetry. She may be the next James Joyce! (though hopefully without the drunkenness and pretentiousness)
My two year old frequently says or does things that are hilarious and I felt like I needed to capture those moments in a poem, a poem technically written by me (her 28 year old mother) and done from the toddler's POV with direct lines from her.
But why?
Because I'm weird.
What poets are influencing this project?
Perhaps Allan Ginsburg?, but let's not place any blame on him for this.
I hope you enjoy her stream of consciousness style poetry. She may be the next James Joyce! (though hopefully without the drunkenness and pretentiousness)
Momma Don't Like Pickles
You don't like pickles,
You don't like pickles!
But, oh, how I love a pickle.
I eat them,
and I love them,
and how ever quaint and adorable I find their small, round-natured deliciousness.
Momma, your eye balls match my pickle!
How wonderful for me to see,
yet all you see is a dead lifeless green. No match. No Romance.
Momma just don't like pickles.
You don't like pickles,
You don't like pickles!
You don't like pickles!
But, oh, how I love a pickle.
I eat them,
and I love them,
and how ever quaint and adorable I find their small, round-natured deliciousness.
Momma, your eye balls match my pickle!
How wonderful for me to see,
yet all you see is a dead lifeless green. No match. No Romance.
Momma just don't like pickles.
You don't like pickles,
You don't like pickles!
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