Stove

Harry Behrens,

Stooping over on his two crutches,

Lit the gas oven for the second time,

 

Was blown, miraculously unhurt,

Backward through the screen door,

And out onto the back porch.

 

The gas stove,

A mass of grease and soot and twisted metal,

A total wreck.

 

But Gypsy Jack,

Before the insurance man could come,

Collected the pieces, put them back together,

 

For sale in his junk shop, “good as new.”

Mrs. Behrens replaced it with an electric one,

No more matches for Harry!

Reviews

[Judy Basmaji]

I love this! I love the fact that it isn't trying too hard to show depth and underlying meaning like most poetry, it's just a simple poem telling a simple story, written in excellent language and smooth storytelling skills. For some reason, it feels like something straight out of a children's books for poetry. Nice work, very fresh and original :)

[Avery Colt]

So glad that you liked one of my personal favorites. Every once in a while it just happens.