(Poem 299 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
If you knock on the door
of Belladonna Grimm
you are likely to encounter
a place cluttered and dim,
for never does she clean,
iron, straighten, or dust.
All her walls are moldy,
cook pans coated with rust.
She’s too busy reading,
discovering something new,
engaging in experiments,
trying to cure the flu.
Her conversation ranges
from alchemy to zero,
constellations, philosophy,
how to become a hero.
She zips around night and day
doing who knows what.
Some suspect she is a witch
or a crazy cuckoo nut.
She doesn’t notice anything
but what she is working on.
It’s rumored she eats dinner
at the crack of dawn.
Belladonna Grimm
doesn’t care what people think,
unless they are interested
in her work with medicinal zinc.
So don’t waste your time
hoping she’ll conform;
she’ll keep you there all day
helping her brainstorm.
@Home Studio – 299th poem of the year
rebekahjmarshall 