Feeling useless after breakfast, maybe time to sort my collection of holes. I keep them in a glass jar, like mismatched screws – donut holes, black holes, an odd-sized grave or two. Never know when loss will come in handy. Not much to look at, I keep them next to the tub of spackle.
Is the Museum of Round Things open? – Circular Logic, Hoop Skirts, Round-house Punches. Vicious Circles with their incisors of gold. Lassos, Rounding Errors, Rounds of Applause. In the shop, I buy a Coming Full Circle. Will it be a gift or a curse…
Gotta get some square pegs to see if I can clown them into my round holes. Sing-along! "If I had a hammer…" Is that a claw hammer? If the clowns bend, can I pull them out by the head?
How to patch and mend. Re-shingle this claptrap day, a month with wind howling through the cracks. Take rust off the mood swings hanging on their chains in the yard. Scrape the wad of gum off the bottom of my soul.
For Shay’s Word Garden
qbit 
Hole-y moley, this is circular logic at its best! Why, as I was rounding third (figuratively), the whole thing morphed into theater in the round!
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Hahahaha!!!
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I enjoyed this so much and so admire your skill and humour! Things my tired brain could never imagine, which were delightful to picture. The glass jar of holes next to the spackle is brilliant. Well, it is ALL brilliant. Loved it.
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Ahahaha! Thank you so much. It’s comments like yours that keep me in the game.
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Wonderful wordplay! I love the whole of that last stanza especially and scraping “the wad of gum off the bottom of my soul”. Even if I do ban the word “soul” from all poems! Nice one, qbit ☺️
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Lol! Agreed about banning “soul”
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Getting along with the world around us and trying not to get rusty in the meantime is a full-time job. But that’s nothing like scraping “the wad of gum off the bottom of my soul.” That’s real work!
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