Then three days later when she came to where
she would use her ointments for the body,
the rock was rolled aside for all to see.
The tomb was now empty; no one was there.
So Mary told the others what she had learned.
They laughed and called her a silly woman,
yet one went back to look. But, being a man
he didn’t understand what he’d discerned,
but when he returned, he told the same story.
This time the others finally believed.
Suddenly there was no time left to grieve.
Mary sighed, “they would not listen to me.”
So through the years, the story was passed down
no trace of feminine left to be found.
Hickory Dickory Dock
Hickory dickory, dock
My phone is now a clock.
It takes pictures of you,
it's a flashlight, too!
And tomorrow, it'll wash my socks.
Elise Buchman is a poet, translator, teacher, and theatrical fencer. She was recently featured as the Guest Children's Poet at the 38th Annual City College Poetry Festival, and her first book, Animal Crackers and Their Friends was published by Publish America in 2009. She writes for both children and adults.
©Elise Buchman 2010
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