whimsy

A teacup that only accepts raindrops as payment

~ ~M ~ 10 Comments

Tears were her last resort
As every cloud was fresh out of rain
So she summoned all of her sadness
Releasing it in pitter patters of pain

The teacup could only smile
As the droplets fell one by one
Now holding the valuable elixir
He beamed for what he had done

© 2025 Michelle Cook

Sometimes we just need to pour out our pain and it’s nice when someone invites us to do that. Thank you to those who have. 😉 ~M xoxo

*For those of you who are curious about the title, I’ve decided to write a series of poems from the perspective of objects, exploring how they might help us if we listen to their unspoken wisdom. I hope these little poems will help you think about ways you can help yourself in a world where each of us may often feel alone.

Photo generated with AI

Mondayish

~ ~M ~ 11 Comments

Oh, Monday what can I say?
Your clouds aren’t very picturesque today.

Your vibe is off, your face isn’t sunny,
at least my eggs are still soft and runny.

Why are you always such a pill,
while all the other days give me such a thrill.

You make me feel down and somewhat dreary,
and even when you’re shinning I still get leery.

So now I’ve got this Mondayish vibe,
and thanks to you I might not survive.

Could you please be better when you come next,
so I don’t have to feel like I’ve been hexed.

© 2025 Michelle Cook

Photo generated with AI

Random Musings

~ ~M ~ 15 Comments

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Slide across a rainbow
Kiss the midday sun
Swim with the dolphins
Now there’s some intense fun

Lick a bright red lollipop
Hug a crying friend
Build a fort or treehouse
See what’s lurking round the bend

Throw a glitzy party
Give jelly sandwiches to the poor
Catch a flight to Denver
Who’s that knocking at the door?

Toss the ball right over
Sail off to the ends of the earth
Drink a bottle of champagne every day
Find the sum of all you’re worth

Dance an Irish jig
Make a wish under a harvest moon
Go in search of buried treasure
Find that lost helium filled balloon

Eat loads of chunky monkey ice cream
Be happy in the midst of the storm
Read by the light of a candle
Crochet a blanket to keep you warm

Send secret messages while sleeping
Peel potatoes for the stew
Put lights up on the eaves
Celebrate each day that you’re you

Believe in forever and evers
Set the moon ablaze
Splash under a crowded waterfall
Count your blessings now and always

© 2017 Michelle Cook

Wrinkle Road

~ ~M ~ 6 Comments

It all began
on wrinkle road
a story so profound
it must be told

But who am I
to expose the truth
and knowing the world
they’ll just want proof

So back n forth I go
holding my tongue
with sweaty hands
ready to be wrung

Juicy details
begging to burst
but I’m just me
and my lips are pursed

Looking around
no soul to tell
helps quiet my mind
and the images quell

So I’ll save my story
for another day
too good to tell
anyway

© 2023 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/wrinkled-old-faded-paper-past-470799/

*On my recent adventure to visit my family, I encountered a road named Wrinkle Rd. I was driving about in the middle of nowhere when I saw the road, and the name just sort of stuck with me for the rest of the day. So after much deliberation, I finally decided to challenge myself to write about it. But too many thoughts were racing through my head as I pondered such a place, and in the end, it seemed like a place of unlimited possibilities. So I leave it up to you, dear reader, to decide what profound things may happen on Wrinkle Rd. Maybe you can even write your own story or poem about what you think goes on there. ~M xo

The worrywart

~ ~M ~ 38 Comments

Worried about the future
Worried about the past
The worrywart’s worries
Make him such an outcast

He dwells incessantly
On things that bring demise
Every potential threat becomes
Something to analyze

The rest of the world just goes on
Rolling their logical eyes
As the worrywart frets
Becoming panicky and paralyzed

It’s a sight the regulars can’t handle
A disgrace to the sensible ones
But the worrywart still worries
Pleading for help from anyone

And then the worries start to spread
Like a disease that infects the mind
Although the worrier means no harm
The repercussions are still unkind

Then more worrywarts abound
Born of dread and social fear
And life becomes a disastrous mess
As the worries fill every ear

From coast to coast and sea to sea
The endless cycle spreads
And now we’re all just worriers
Wishing we were dead

© 2023 Michelle Cook

*The drawing is my own attempt at creating a worried warthog.  I wanted to do something silly for this one and make it as unrealistic and absurd as possible.  So if you haven’t laughed yet, I guess I’ve failed miserably.  But if you’re at least smiling and shaking your head in disbelief, then I guess I’m doing alright.  😉 ~M