Sleep Gnome appeasement

Three a.m. and I can’t sleep,

Sleepy is shallow while tired is deep.

Telling my mind it can just run free,

Doesn’t even help, something’s wrong with me.

Stretching the muscles, torso and limbs,

My bed becomes the comfiest of sheet-covered gyms.

Any moment I feel that I’ll go under,

So I lay down in the distant, voiceless thunder,

Laying my head on the pillow, which is when

The sleep disappears, along with my Zen.

I guess the Sleep Gnome assigned to me tonight,

Is a cheeky bastard, abusing its might.

Therefore, I guess an appeasement is due,

Something to eat, and a feather bright blue,

Is what you need, but I don’t have a bird,

But shredding some paper handled by Word,

And sticking on blue tack is enough in low light.

Plus, you know that the gnome is not that bright.

Paper, blue tack and an apple with fur,

And voilà, I fall into the slumber and purr.

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Sauna gnome

I’ve been reading a book on old Finnish folk tales and mythology. Some of the stories can get very non-Disney at their best.

 

Going to the sauna must be done on time,

Never, ever late, not for song nor rhyme.

There was a woman some thousand years ago,

Who worked hard with a twisted toe.

She looked forward to Saturday night,

The toe would heal in the sauna all right.

It snew and snew and it took a long while,

Till she got home: midnight, still a mile.

Everyone at home had washed already,

While she was still walking, slow and steady.

Due to this delay it was already one

As she sat next to the oven’s small sun.

Saunas are known to house their own gnome

Who is proud of its warm, cozy home.

It wards off diseases if treated with respect,

Given sacrifices, but if you neglect,

To obey its rules it will be wont to do

Like gnomefolk will, it will hurt you.

The woman, who came late, not of her own volition,

Made no sounds, which raised much suspicion.

Her brothers and sisters went to investigate

Found the sauna empty, the warmth first rate.

They looked and peered in the dark of the room,

And, in the rafters, next to the broom,

Saw what used to be the skin of their sister,

Shredded and torn to bits like a popped blister.

This, they knew, was done by the gnome,

Who suffers no tardiness inside its home.

Icy beard

My beard ices up when it’s cold.

White as milk and hard as gold.

Why does this happen? Now I know.

It is because all the sprites of snow,

Also feel cold and want to melt and thaw.

Near my mouth, my gaping maw,

Is a bit warmer with the moist breeze.

A good place to sleep and try not to freeze.

When I step inside after going for a run,

The heat waves roll in one by one,

Wakes up the sprites and they fly away,

Leave their sleepy drool on my gray

And me wondering why my face is wet.

Was it so hot that it’s just sweat?

Greeting Gnome

Hi! I am the Greeting Gnome.

You have entered your good friend’s home!

He’s not here, which is why I am.

Not here to waste your time, no Mam!

I keep talking until he returns.

So, how do you like them… ferns?

Sneaky little bushes, always groping,

None around here, I am hoping.

“Well, I have not really thought about…”

That’s ok, you won’t have a doubt,

He’ll be here soon, I’m almost certain,

Say, what’s that? A velvet curtain?

Borrowed from him or what and where?

“I’ll just go and leave this there.”

I’ll tell you stopped by if I’m unmuted!

I would leave too, but I stand here rooted!

The truth about typewriters

An old-fashioned typewriter works like this:

You press the key, if you don’t miss,

The typebar swings and hits a small head,

Compelling its owner to paint in dread.

A typewriter gnome has been taught one letter,

That it will remember (at least it’d better)

How to portray with some ink and a brush,

Always the same, no mistakes or mush.

The “TSAK” you hear, a head-on collision:

A new letter in your peripheral vision.

Therefore, computers are more humane,

No chance of contusion in a tiny gnome brain.

Ear wax

I stuck a finger into my own ear.

The very first time; there was no fear.

I noticed some stuff and asked my dad,

Because I asked him, he was very glad.

He explained that the wax is just residue,

From Sound Gnomes’ feet, they all have two.

They are the ones who work like mules,

Carry sound waves with certain rules.

When they enter your ear and brain

They wipe their feet and walking cane.

Therefore the wax you have in your ear,

A side product of how you hear.

The friction in the air heats up all the atoms,

Also in water and ground-like stratums.

This makes wax that sticks in the soles,

Protects their shoes from wear-made holes.

If they go far there’s more of the stuff,

Which can make cleaning ears a bit tough.

You could also use it for shoe repair,

But never, ever, ever just eat your share.

Tomato gnome

I had a tomato plant that grew green,

I thought it’s because the winter is too mean.

Then I put some food on the roots,

Pumpkin soup on top of its boots.

After the night the tomatoes were red,

I was astonished, that has to be said.

Then I remembered the oldest story.

Tomato gnomes and their red glory.

One contribution is all they wish,

Any kind of food, carrots or a knish:

They paint the tomatoes cardinal red

For you to enjoy, go on ahead.

Their red paint full of an enzyme,

In a single night it’s tomato eating time.

The red color signals its new taste,

Time is of the essence, do not waste.