I collect teddy bears


The Teddy Bears are Holding Me Hostage



They spin around the room in a flurry of color.

They latch onto me with a furry grip.

They hypnotize me with their glass eyes.

Help me!
The teddy bears are holding me hostage!

I let them in because their cute faces echoed a
plea not to be ignored.

My hands are obsessed.
To grab their soft, stuffed bodies is a delight.

Stuffed in baskets.
Sitting on stools.
Falling off my chair.
Smiling on the headboard.

They jump on my head and wake me up.

They bounce off their seats and roll across the
floor.

Dust filters onto their plush cuteness.
Dust to waft up my nose later.

About 137 crazy critters to squeeze into my
dreams.
137 bear grins to welcome me every morning.

Help me!
The teddy bears are holding me hostage!

I still invite more into my life.
I will someday drown in a fuzzy punishment of
my own making.

A punishment of a collecting obsession.

Someday I will be let out of my captivity.
When the world stops making teddy bears.




Poetry by Amy Buchanan
Read 908 times
Written on 2006-12-24 at 05:40

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Teala
What a fun and quirky write--love it, it sure made me smile;)
2006-12-24


binesh
Amy,
This is cute . I dont know you if you intend at anything beyond the surface but a good critic will find much deeper shades in this nice little poem. Good
2006-12-24