Lost

Check the fridge, maybe?

By D.P. MartinPublished 3 years ago • 1 min read

Ancient question asked:

"Where the hell are my keys?"

Not on this mountain.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

D.P. Martin

D.P. Martin began writing a first novel in third grade - and had it survived mom's cleaning habit, it would certainly have been a number one best seller. D.P. calls New Hampshire home, raising one son and three hyperactive cats.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Keep reading

More stories from D.P. Martin and writers in Poets and other communities.

Unerasable
I didn’t ask for it That moment you walked in I was relishing my coffee Piping hot in the late fall cold A trying day of work behind me
By D.P. Martin4 years ago in Poets
Flaying Façades
Prose Poetry Unburdening a menagerie of ghosts exorcised my fragile, fumbling heart. I had told you of jet-black thoughts through intimate chronicles, and discombobulated perceptions ripped beyond the basal of my breasts.
By Chantal Christie Weiss4 days ago in Poets
Shown Working
A representation of you, thinking About a paper womb, like your birthplace What will you put in there, incubating To take form, and earn applause or disgrace?
By D. J. Reddall4 days ago in Poets
To Be a Slob
So, you've decided to give up being a neat freak? Wise choice. There are many reasons why this path is advantageous. Here are a few:
By Julie Lacksonen5 days ago in Fiction

Lost

Check the fridge, maybe?

About the Creator

D.P. Martin

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

Comments

Keep reading

Unerasable

Flaying Façades

Shown Working

To Be a Slob