TRIP-TRAPPED —

One after another, three goat brothers gruff
Decided that winter had lasted enough

So they went to the bridge leading to grasses so sweet
A pass claimed by a huge troll with nothing to eat 

Little goat was first to brave the bridge and beneath

The beast rose from the darkness, showing its teeth

“Wait for my brother, the next one's much fatter”
Troll’s belly growled and that settled the matter

Middle goat came next and made the same plea
“Wait for my brother, he’s much bigger than me”

The troll wiped his mouth and just stepped to the side
Middle goat didn’t notice where his small brother died

Now the troll, prewarned of a brother the grandest
Rigged up the bridge planks as he carefully planned it

When the goat came to cross, his horns low for the fight
He charged hard at the troll, who stepped off to the right

Just in time and big goat ran right into the trap
Which almost worked perfect except for the strap

So instead of being tripped up and hung in the crash
Big goat fell in midstream with a mighty big splash

And a sharp ancient rock cracked his heavy skull clean
Then the cold current water washed away what was seen

The troll eyed his lost food and furrowed his brow
He sat down on his bridge and was hungrier now

Middle goat filled his belly and counted the hours
Chewing the clover and smelling the flowers

Then at dusk he crept down from the big hill of grass
Setting his hooves on the bridge, attempting to pass

“Who’s that trip-trapping across my bridge?”
Said the troll, to the goat who came down from the ridge

"Wait,” said the goat, “my brothers follow, they’re fat”
He bleated out weak, staring down through the slats

'No brothers...” said the troll, as he smiled to gloat
And that was the end of the once middle goat

_
Pikthall is a writer and theoretician. 

** "Trip-Trapped" is an adaptive reimagining of the classic folktale "The Three Billy Goats Gruff" and was composed over the course of ten days with help from my five year old daughter.

WILBER'S PEN —

A spider spins by warm moonlight
Words up in silk, hung overnight

As affair draws near the blade hangs here 
Some fears fade fast, some grow quite clear

She writes the lines to spare his hyde
So a fat pig lives, whereas others died

One test is won, one deed is done 
But every path costs another one

Now papa goes out again with his axe
In search of new meat to fill in the lack

A small lesson learned: love leaves a mark
But a wall of thread can't hold back the dark

Image by Garth Williams

_
Pikthall is a writer.

10 POUND KEY —

I have to do 10 pounds of homework
Or my dad just won’t let me be
I have to draw lines
Cross t's and dot i's
Find rhymes and
Divide by degree

I have to do 10 pounds of homework
Or my dad just won’t let me go
He traps me right here
Straps me up in the chair
As I look up from
Way down below

I have to do 10 pounds of homework
or my dad just won’t let me be
He says to measure the pace
Of the perimeter space 
And he laughs while
I’m climbing a tree

I have to do 10 pounds of homework
Or my dad just won’t let me go
He keeps saying wait
Make sure that it’s straight
Be quiet and stay
Off of my toes

I have to do 10 pounds of homework
Or my dad just won’t let be
I must wait for fun
Till what must be done
Is done and
This is the key

_

Pikthall is a writer.

WONDER WANDER —

I walk along
a blooming path
that funnels
inverts
flares

A walrus waltzes
on the fence
I laugh and
leave her there

She waves goodbye
I turn around and
smile as I go

Wandering down
the blooming path
wondering
what is 

to know

_

Pikthall is a writer

SILENT VISIBLE —

Light and color
shade and dark
a reflection and
a photograph

A statue
footprints and
the moon
a sharp
knife
and a cat

A good shirt
some nice pants
and even better boots

A good path
some spilled blood

and a couple
other fruits

_

Pikthall is a writer.

Note: This poem was composed with the help of my four year old daughter.

PLAYTIME —

Mama cow

baby cow

chicks to hens

baby cow

mama cow

spirals spin

around and

around again

beginning 

to end

mama cow

baby cow

now

then

_

Pikthall is a writer.

DINOSAUR —

Leaves are falling
Green, yellow, orange, red
Countenance out a third floor window

Cold innocence, cracked eggs

And terrible lizards 

Abound

BARREL JUMPER —

Loops lead

to a nest

a lime

a sunflower

camels in deserts

spiders in webs

the barrel of the wave

TALC —

Suspended children
flee a building burning permanent
persuaded and dissuaded
out of the dank
into the fray
weeping and
waving
in vain.


_

Pikthall is a writer.