2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 5

Today is our first “Two for Tuesday” prompt of the month. For those who are new to the challenge, I provide two prompts instead of one–usually polar opposites of each other–and poets can choose which one to use. Of course, quite a few poets write a poem for both prompts.

For today’s prompt, do one of the following:

  1. Write a goofy poem.
  2. Write a serious poem.

Of course, I see the possibility for writing a seriously goofy poem and writing a serious poem with a little goofy thrown into the mix. I’m excited to see what kind of silly things may transpire the next 24 hours, and I’m interested in all the straight-faced poems as well.

Here’s my attempt:

“Anything is possible”

When I watch TV with my boys,
I see a world filled with talking
tools, trains and toys. But what gets me
the most is a fry cook who lives
in a pineapple under the sea.

*****

Follow me on Twitter @robertleebrewer

And tweet your poeming progress on Twitter with the #aprpad hashtag.

*****

Write it for the children…
If you can get silly with it, then chances are good that writing for children may be right up your alley. And I admit that I enjoy “children’s” literature too. For those with that interest, I recommend our top guide to writing for children You Can Write Children’s Books, by Tracy E. Dils. Dils gives instruction on all levels of children’s writing from picture books to young adult.

Click here to learn more.

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0 thoughts on “2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 5

  1. Dennis Wright

    The Wabbit In The Pit

    Be very
    very qui-et I’m
    hunting wa-
    bbits, shu-sh!
    It’s wabbit
    season, uh huh, uh huh, yah
    uh huh, it sure is.

  2. Mich Rygiel

    Goofy Poem
    Goofy was never one of my faves
    I think I never got that he was a dog
    He just seemed like a big dope with long ears

    Serious Poem
    Sirius – now that was a dog!
    Goofy may have been a star
    But Sirius was made of stars.
    And now he makes music.

  3. Mich Rygiel

    Goofy Poem
    Goofy was never one of my faves
    I think I never got that he was a dog
    He just seemed like a big dope with long ears

    Serious Poem
    Sirius – now that was a dog!
    Goofy may have been a star
    But Sirius was made of stars.
    And now he makes music.

  4. Michelle Guerra

    Love & Swimming
    I am a lover,
    not a hater.
    I swim,
    for fun.
    Love is fun.
    Swimming is wet.
    Swimming – the water is cold.
    Love – can be cold.

    Life
    Life is not like a box of chocolates.
    You cannot just read the cheat sheet and pick what items you want.
    Life is not like a game.
    You can always start a game over.
    Life is not like a roller coaster.
    Roller coasters can be controlled.
    Life is not like a bowl of cherries.
    Cherries can always be picked and weeded through.
    Life is not like a dream.
    A dream is fake . . . and not real.
    Life is making things happen.
    Life is about the choices we make.
    Life is reality.

  5. Rose Anna Hines

    SMALL THINGS CAN CAUSE FLOODS

    Lying in the bed
    dad a shadow of himself.
    Head of the bed raised.
    His body propped in place with several pillows,
    needing to be rearranged about every hour.
    Foley with drops of red sliding with urine
    down into the collection bag.
    The hum of the oxygen tank
    pumping life through a lifeless tube
    into his nostrils.

    Morphine dripping, dripping into his vein
    to fight the arrows and bullets of cancer cells marching-
    leaving destruction, waste, and pain.

    Four months ago a robust construction worker
    welding hammer, 4x4s, cement bags
    just puff pillows to his massive muscles.

    Now cancer was eating his body.
    Muscles were wobbling jello
    unable to turn his own body.
    Two people are needed to turn his body
    to change his diaper.

    Words haltingly cross his tongue and lips
    caterpillar words climbing up a slippery hill
    to express basic needs.

    Reduced to repeated servings of a teaspoon of pureed baby food
    someone else places on his tongue to swallow.

    Day after day
    so much devastation
    destruction
    demolition.

    YET NO TEARS, in my dry-clinical-eyes.

    The grandkids play with dad’s
    120 pound Akita outside.
    We can hear them romping and laughing.
    King strolls into the living room.
    He lays quietly next to dad’s bed for 10 minutes,
    never taking his eyes off dad.
    Quietly he comes to the end of the bed
    smells dad feet, hands and arms.
    then begins licking his feet, calves,
    hands and forearms.
    grooming bathing this man he loves.

    Then the tears aval
    a
    l
    a
    nche
    d
    o
    w
    n
    my cheeks.

  6. Rose Anna Hines

    The land of Backward names and Spiraling Alaphabet

    yooG, fluF, odinE, telaD, ceeciiC, ohoB, antuA
    Lived in the top drawer on the right of Mrs. Demmer’s Desk
    In Perkyville Elememtary School

    They were not working today
    because today was the day for the "H", "I" "J", "K", and "L"
    to dance and sing for the student’s education.
    Since, they had the day off,
    they were standing on their heads resting.
    telad was humming, fluF and ohoB were holding hands
    ceeciiC was reciting poetry she had written
    antuA was snoring and sound asleep.

    These tiny folk weren’t tired from their previous days work.
    They loved the performing part.
    They got to sing, do acrobatics, and dance
    for the children.
    They loved making the children laugh and learn.
    When the children had fun,
    they would often pick up the small folk and stroked their soft fur
    or put them in their pockets where there were tasty nibbles
    like carrots, raisons, peanuts, or berry’s.

    No no, it wasn’t the work that was hard,
    it was the boredom of rest with nothing to do
    and being stuck in a drawer in a desk off the floor.
    They had already made sculptures out of paper clips,
    played toss the eraser at each other
    jumped rope with a shoe lace left in the drawer by Mrs. Dremmer
    and toss the pencils to see it they could get one stuck in an eraser
    now they were napping.

    Suddenly ceeciiC was jumping up and down
    yelling "wake up everybody, wake up
    I had a dream and saw how we can get out of this drawer
    on our days off.

    Everyone huddled around and ceeciiC showed them
    how she could attach paper clips to the shoe lace to secure it inside the drawer
    open the drawer slightly drop the lace out outside of the drawer
    then one at a time they could climb down the lace.
    odinE said, " I want to try it because I want to go to
    iceville and go ice skating"
    "me too" said antuA.

    Soon they had gone up and down the shoe lace
    three times each to be sure they could back in the drawer.
    They were off to iceville
    Tomorrow they would find another place to play.

  7. G. Smith

    LATE BUT MODERN
    (A Blitz Poem)
    (c) 2011 G. Smith
    ——————–

    Too much, too soon
    Too little, too late
    Late for dinner
    Late for your own funeral
    Funeral for a friend
    Funeral march
    March Madness
    March to a different beat
    Beat around the bush
    Beat a dead horse
    Horseplay
    Horse around
    Around and around
    Around the bend
    Bend over backwards
    Bend the rules
    Rules the roost
    Rules are made to be broken
    Broken hearted
    Broken promises
    Promises, promises, promises
    Promises made, promises broken
    Broken record
    Broken into
    Into pieces
    Into the blue
    Blue skies
    Blue eyes cryin’ in the rain
    Rain, rain, go away
    Rain or shine
    Shine on
    Shine your light
    Light on your feet
    Light as a feather
    Feather your nest
    Feather bed
    Bed head
    Bed of roses
    Roses are red
    Roses by the dozen
    Dozen eggs
    Dozen doughnuts
    Doughnuts and coffee
    Doughnuts and Danish
    Danish pastry
    Danish modern
    Modern romance
    Modern art
    Art
    Romance.

  8. S.E.Ingraham

    a silly poem

    watch me fly

    without opening an artery for illusion producing drugs
    i am flying high, not on a substance; no—in the air
    but while my bliss is not chemically induced
    as you will notice if you look me in the eye
    my pupils are normal, not pin-pric k nor dilated
    so—like a bubble — I rise on the thermals
    partly—housed in a miracle of chrome and steel
    and unlike train travel, there will be peanut passing maybe
    but no tunnels to traverse and if we’re lucky, no jeopardy
    and the pilot will be good-looking and the flight attendants
    cute as cupcakes

    a non-silly poem

    To Bleed Straight

    My mama took me to rehab
    And papa took me to church
    The priest said he would
    Pray me fixed—I would marry
    But still, the hunger begged me

    Lust was upon me day
    And night; the razor called
    Called out my name
    My sweet gay name

    And slashed my wrists
    Vertical
    Bled me straight
    Bled me dead

  9. S.E.Ingraham

    a silly poem

    watch me fly

    without opening an artery for illusion producing drugs
    i am flying high, not on a substance; no—in the air
    but while my bliss is not chemically induced
    as you will notice if you look me in the eye
    my pupils are normal, not pin-pric k nor dilated
    so—like a bubble — I rise on the thermals
    partly—housed in a miracle of chrome and steel
    and unlike train travel, there will be peanut passing maybe
    but no tunnels to traverse and if we’re lucky, no jeopardy
    and the pilot will be good-looking and the flight attendants
    cute as cupcakes

    a non-silly poem

    To Bleed Straight

    My mama took me to rehab
    And papa took me to church
    The priest said he would
    Pray me fixed—I would marry
    But still, the hunger begged me

    Lust was upon me day
    And night; the razor called
    Called out my name
    My sweet gay name

    And slashed my wrists
    Vertical
    Bled me straight
    Bled me dead

  10. ChapLynn

    1. Teens

    No, I don’t want to spend any time with you
    And I can’t stand to hear you talk.
    You don’t know anything.
    You blame me for everything.
    I hate you.
    Mooooommm!
    Hi mom. I love you.
    Where have you been?

    2. Teens

    So many things to contemplate
    So many people to love and hate
    So many ways to make mistakes
    Parents pray they’ll turn out great
    Parents can’t seem to wait
    So, from each other they often glean
    Tips on how to manage a teen
    Years they’ve lost
    Lines they’ve crossed
    Keep them wondering what will be
    Will my child turn out like me?

  11. Scott Mesrobian

    Stealing Cookies

    I sit with a girl who is not yet three
    While she nibbles on cookies
    And giggles at me.

    What have I done to make this girl smile?
    Perhaps it’s the way
    I talk like a child.

    I stick out my tongue
    And say, “Pwy poo pawk wike bith.”
    The girls laughs out loud before saying
    “I than thawk in a shish.”

    I steal a cookie from her small plate
    And hold it in front of my mouth;
    Her hands shoots out and steals it
    Before it’s too late.

  12. alana sherman

    Silly

    I’m not so good at writing silly
    It seems I’m not that kind of filly
    When I try being Ogden Nash
    The poem’s likely to be trash.

    I never have an easy time:
    it’s very hard to make a rhyme
    and if meter I want in verse
    all my efforts turn out worse.

    That said, here are two "goofy" poems.

    1.

    On Being Asked To Describe Jealousy To My 10th Graders

    Boys are possessive jealous
    You know what this means
    If they see you with other fellous
    They are ready to split their seams.

    Now girls are jealous jealous
    and this is not the same
    If at another girl a fellow looks
    They just don’t talk to him again!

    Between these two kinds of jealousy
    a very fine line is lain.
    The boys are driven crazy,
    And girls just go insane.

    2.

    The Lay Of Island Life

    I’ve got a hankerin’
    To throw my anchor in
    Where the sea and the sky are bright blue
    I’ll leave all the hustle, the rat race and bustle
    It’s good riddance to Park Avenue.

    It will be so serene-a
    To be at a marina
    Where the sea and the sky are bright blue
    I’ll leave all the mess, the work and the stress
    It’s good riddance to Lexington too.

    How I love the palm trees
    the white sand and soft breeze
    that caresses the waves and the land.
    No time clocks or datebooks, I’ll live in a hut
    Gaze at my man’s butt and do whatever I please.

  13. Joseph Beckman

    2011 April PAD Challenge: Day 5
    write a goofy poem; write a serious poem
    .
    the truth in his eye
    .
    driving along to the snow for a day
    the five year old there in the back does say
    that mountain( a hill ) doth have a big point
    the dad does respond, it could sever your joint
    to step on the peak with a foot or a shoe,
    he laughs just a bit, ‘cause that’s what they do,
    when unsure, if the truth or a joke was just said,
    like that which doth come from the politico’s head.
    .
    © April 5, 2011 by Joseph Beckman

  14. Jay Sizemore

    The Body Needs Its Rest

    Falling asleep, I thought my heart stopped,
    so I became an insomniac. Fear escaped
    through my pores, made my sheets damp,
    drew dark circles beneath my eyes,
    like warpaint for a battle with the sun.
    Eyelids became garage doors,
    became avalanches,
    became stones that Jesus
    wouldn’t roll away for three days.
    I’d awake, the television on,
    head in a fish bowl
    filled with canned laughter,
    wondering if sitcoms were made in hell,
    wondering if the body needs its sleep,
    like life needs its death.

  15. Linda Simoni-Wastila

    Just a dream

    It started with a gun
    gleaming gold by Orange Julius
    security wrestling a suspect
    who would not listen

    when I found my son he was on
    the water slide and I stuck between
    two vinyl rivers in the only dry spot
    wearing my brand new Jimmy Choos

    We flew back to the mall
    and ate donuts sugar-glazed hot
    before I returned to teaching chemistry
    and how to bake a perfect rhubarb crisp

    More donuts, these triangular
    and chocolate to bribe away the D
    but the handsome fella wearing dreads
    who brought them only smiled

    Walking home on roads frozen
    to icy sheen, another man in a suit
    slipped on black ice before helping me
    through icy tundra growing curbside

    Driving home in the truck the summer
    night pelting me, newly dug potatoes
    Curled fat and red roadside reminding
    me of what is good in life

    ***
    Peace, Linda

  16. Linda Simoni-Wastila

    Just a dream

    It started with a gun
    gleaming gold by Orange Julius
    security wrestling a suspect
    who would not listen

    when I found my son he was on
    the water slide and I stuck between
    two vinyl rivers in the only dry spot
    wearing my brand new Jimmy Choos

    We flew back to the mall
    and ate donuts sugar-glazed hot
    before I returned to teaching chemistry
    and how to bake a perfect rhubarb crisp

    More donuts, these triangular
    and chocolate to bribe away the D
    but the handsome fella wearing dreads
    who brought them only smiled

    Walking home on roads frozen
    to icy sheen, another man in a suit
    slipped on black ice before helping me
    through icy tundra growing curbside

    Driving home in the truck the summer
    night pelting me, newly dug potatoes
    Curled fat and red roadside reminding
    me of what is good in life

    ***
    Peace, Linda

  17. Mariel Dumas

    "The Best Cure to Saturday Hangovers"

    Pink bunny slippers on
    Sipping oolong tea
    While I delight
    In a red velvet cupcake
    Inspector Gadget on
    Russian Barbie at my side
    Just finished another bowl of Coco puffs;
    Painting every other nail a pretty shade of green
    With hot pink glitter too, to boot
    You stare at me and say,
    “Act your age”
    So while I set up my South Park marathon
    And lick the batter from the cake
    Laughing all the way to my bed
    I say, “How dare you sir!”

  18. Megan

    In search of Goofy

    Goofy, silly, time for a guffaw break
    Only causes tears
    Of remembrance to coat and seal my eye,s
    First I must stay steadfast serious for the
    Year to come to be able to be ready for you, always you…

  19. LBC

    With a tip of my hat to Paul McCartney’s “Silly Love Songs” I write:
    A Goofy Poem:

    You’d think that poets would have had enough of goofy poems
    I look on this blog and I see it isn’t so
    These poets want to fill the world
    with goofy poems
    What ‘s wrong with that?
    I’d like to know
    ‘Cuz here I go posting again:
    I love poems, I love poems.
    Some poems come to me in a minute,
    Sometimes they don’t come at all.
    I only know that when I’m in it
    The April Challenge, Robert’s April Challenge, it isn’t goofy at all.
    Ah, I can’t explain, the poems are feelings to me,
    Say, can’t ya see?
    Ah, I gave my all, my poems are dear to me,
    Say, can’t ya see?
    What’s wrong with that?
    I’d like to know
    ‘Cuz I’m going to go write some more.
    How can I tell you about my poems?
    I love poems.
    How can I tell you about my poems?
    I love poems.
    Please read my poems. They’re dear to me.

  20. Laura Kayne

    Small Sparks

    There are small sparks
    Between you and I.
    Electrically charged,
    Energy burning bright.
    We’re drawn together like magnets,
    Opposing forces
    Becoming fused as one.
    But we are two sides
    Of the same coin –
    Finishing each other’s sentences,
    Reading each other’s minds.
    Soul-mates, written in the stars?
    Or is it just co-incidence,
    That we have found each other,
    And small sparks fly.

  21. Margot Suydam

    Domicile

    We were a home:
    the wild kittens

    domesticated
    scratched furniture

    blankets draped
    to catch the hair

    full-length curtains
    designed for climbing

    while faces grimaced
    then softened—like

    gusting snow—with
    body flops and rubbing,

    the weight of gentleness
    dropped to the floor.

    Out back someone left
    a door ajar to empty

    the weight of kindness
    slipped out the door.

    The white still tumbles,
    the blinds transparent.

    Single trees converse,
    protecting scarred bark

    from whimsical claws,
    the squirrel-chasing cats.

  22. Margot Suydam

    Domicile

    We were a home:
    the wild kittens

    domesticated
    scratched furniture

    blankets draped
    to catch the hair

    full-length curtains
    designed for climbing

    while faces grimaced
    then softened—like

    gusting snow—with
    body flops and rubbing,

    the weight of gentleness
    dropped to the floor.

    Out back someone left
    a door ajar to empty

    the weight of kindness
    slipped out the door.

    The white still tumbles,
    the blinds transparent.

    Single trees converse,
    protecting scarred bark

    from whimsical claws,
    the squirrel-chasing cats.

  23. Iain D. Kemp

    Dear Moosehead,
    Talk about squeaking a result!
    Anyway, score lines don’t bother me,
    a win’s a win in my book. Tell you what else
    you inbred half-wit. An ass is an ass in my book too!
    Your mother is getting beyond a joke and crazing
    my butt just ‘cos we’re gonna be outta town this
    weekend. Why don’t we take her and her
    demented daughter? Why don’t I slit her throat?
    Apart from it being a baseball weekend, do you really think
    I’m gonna let them harpies loose in Bean town?
    If it was further away I’d take ‘em alright – and leave ‘em there!
    Pick me up early, I need to get outta here.

    Yours sharpening the axe,
    Ringo the Howler

  24. Iain D. Kemp

    Facing Mortality

    Pole-axed!
    The Doctors news hits me
    like a heavy weight’s punch
    swaying
    reeling
    taking the standing eight count
    taking a deep breath
    counting to ten
    counting again
    breathing deep
    summoning strength
    and picking up the phone
    pausing before dialing
    another deep breath
    before saying:
    “Hi Dad. How bad is it?

    Iain

  25. Deb Brunell

    The Purple

    In the purple
    once was I
    on a hilltop
    kissing the sky

    Somehow I fell
    back in the now
    I’ll search forever
    till I have found

    That sweetest spot
    where warm snow falls
    rest my head on a cloud
    the purple calls

  26. Erinne Magee

    i woke up today and had no toes
    so i wrapped my feet in pink, shiny bows
    they look quite nice i must say
    but when i step i start to sway
    so i sit and crawl most of the time
    or if i’m feeling edgy i start to climb
    i called the doc to get some meds
    and he prescribed all these breads
    well, i said, i’ve never heard of such a thing
    he said, when your fingers fall off gimme a ring

  27. Arrvada

    Dark inside
    By
    Arrvada

    Every spring when the sky turns blue
    Deep inside it begins to hurt like a bruise
    Darkness seems to spread like a cancer
    Eating up the cells of joy inside of me
    Like a gray cloud it spreads
    Covering my life and gaping wide
    Trying to swallow my hope and dreams
    To pull me down and make me fall
    To make me despair at last and
    Take my last breath of life
    It wants to consume me and make me take
    A handful of pills or a razor blade
    Wants to make me end it all to escape the pain
    A deep, black ache inside my soul
    It wants to consume me
    Devour me
    While outside birds sing and flowers bloom

  28. Arrvada

    Won’t ever….
    By
    Arrvada
    A Dr Suess Tattoo
    A Nerd to be exact
    On my forearm
    Pink and blond hair
    I still like Abba Zabbas & gummi bears
    I stumble over my own feet
    Watch cartoons and read comics
    Think swings are the best thing ever
    And wish I had a pony
    I’m almost 32 and still
    Haven’t grown out of goofy

  29. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    family meal
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    every monday night
    we sit around a frilly tablecloth
    to eat a meal as family
    because it makes my mother happy,
    even though the reality is
    we are all just pilots
    in a holding pattern
    (jets, twins, single props)
    circling placemats, gravy
    boats, pitted silverware
    waiting for the bottom
    of the bread basket to
    suddenly drop out from under,
    showing us where to
    aim our landing gear.

    © 2011 by Juanita Lewison-Snyde

  30. Jolanta Laurinaitis

    Back wards Hats

    Push and shove
    Instant love
    Back wards hats
    And forwards cats
    Bring to me
    Endlessly
    Joy and laughter
    For ever after
    And we will see
    Backwards hats
    And meth fed gnats
    Photo smile
    All the while
    Googly eye
    And rolling sighs
    You will wear
    Back wards hats
    And the best spats

  31. Patti Williams

    Seriously,
    Laughter is the best.
    Ask anyone
    After a hard day
    When they finally cut
    Loose at happy hour
    And make fun
    Of what has plagued
    Them during the day
    How much better they
    Feel after having
    Let it go to the art
    Of making fun.

    It may seem goofy
    But really
    The result is beautiful.
    And when they go home
    Sleep may actually come.
    Another perk of being real.

  32. Elizabeth Oakley

    1. EVERYONE LOVES THE FAT KID

    Everyone loves the fat kid
    who makes fun of herself
    and takes the insults from others
    like they find it funny

    They prance around making fat jokes
    and begging others to join in
    trying to be funny because
    everyone loves the fat kid

    How many donuts can they stuff
    into their mouths at breakfast time
    while they smile because she is one
    who makes fun of herself

    And even tries to be the most memorable class clown
    because that is the only way
    she can be seen and remembered while living
    and takes the insults from others

    Who wears bikinis like a joke
    so others will laugh at her enormous rolls
    like they find it funny

    2. THE FAT GIRL

    Did anyone remember her now
    nearly ten years later
    the fat kid who made it big
    who turned herself skinny overnight

    They were not even sure who she was
    that walked through the restaurant doors
    so unrecognizable was her beauty and stature
    Did anyone remember her now

    She put on her name tag at the front counter
    and the homecoming queen made her show ID
    because she couldn’t believe it was her
    nearly ten years later

    And she walked into the main hall
    where whispers were already circulating
    she was no longer just
    the fat kid who made it big

    She had devised a plan three years earlier
    to wow them all with the greatest metamorphosis
    they had ever experienced with the fat girl
    who turned herself skinny overnight

  33. Mike Bayles

    Otter to Water

    An otter takes to water
    like a man takes to land.
    An otter ought ter swim,
    for a man, just a whim.
    An otter plays outside,
    while a man seeks a ride.
    An otter runs wild and free,
    to man, a curiosity.

  34. Buddah Moskowitz

    A little late, but here’s my Envy List for today

    PKP aka Pearl Ketover Prilik
    meg
    Nancy Posey
    Andrew Krieder
    Sara V
    Tracy Davidson (both Mouring abd Mission Impossible)
    stephanie barbe hammer
    Linda Armstrong
    domino
    Carolyn Mallory

    All talented – more than I. Thanks – mosk

  35. Buddah Moskowitz

    (NOTE: I fully intended to post this last night, but I had to work late, and my wife wanted to make love, so, what would you do? – bm)

    The Intellectual’s Secret

    I did not take up the title
    of The Intellectual
    until my mentor
    at the university
    lauded me as such.

    I studied long and hard,
    collected all the necessary
    books,
    cultivated the
    learned perspectives
    on matters
    diverse and far-reaching,

    graduating from
    a mere bookworm,
    an outcast egghead,
    to The Intellectual.

    As the academician,
    I learned to
    converse confidently
    with the cognoscenti
    of every milieu,
    and when unsure
    of my abilities
    I can fake it
    passably .

    But, just as every
    person casts a shadow,
    every persona has
    its secret,
    and here is mine,

    it is atavistic,
    speciesistic
    and certainly not
    politically correct:

    watching videos of
    chimpanzees
    wearing formal wear
    smoking cigars
    or zooming around
    on roller skates

    will always
    make me giddy
    with laughter.

  36. Doug

    The hunt for the hullabaloo

    for a gathering of hunters
    we two are tiny but grim
    Mark Jones will regret not coming
    but a hero is not within him

    for we shall hunt down this beastie
    and fame will beg at our feat
    we’ll burn at the camera’d exposure
    and tan in the flashgun heat

    we have the strongest of spud guns
    and a slingshot (though the ‘lastic is broke)
    we’ll stir up that hullabaloo while nesting
    by giving it’s lair such a poke

    we heard those big fangs chomping
    in the house that was derelict long
    (could be why Mark Jones ain’t coming,
    he trailed a following scent and a pong)

    armed to the teeth and our bracers
    we will kill this hullabaloo dead
    we’ll chop it and skin it, a trophy we’ll make
    of its six eyed, seven horned head

    but now while I think of contingents
    somebody should stay to answer the press
    I’d have gotten my sister to cover
    but she’s in the mall tracking a new dress

    while I face the music and questions
    someone should look to support
    for on the belly march of logistics
    the most famous battles are fought

    so that takes out me, and you I’m afraid
    though we’d have scared the ‘baloo to it’s bones
    and the expedition will wither
    because of the cowardice of Mark Jones

    on the bright side the long term projection
    is that ‘baloos will breed without qualm
    and maybe we should sell tickets
    to a hullabaloo zoo or a farm?

    ©DP April MMXI

  37. Sheila Deeth

    Nursing the empty nest

    Pink slip.
    Fired.
    Permission’s expired.
    The children are gone
    Away
    No shape to the day.
    Wired
    On coffee
    And raiding cookies
    Her pink slip
    Hardly fits her anymore.
    She skips –
    Pink-slippered
    Memories pour
    Through her –
    If they phone home.
    E.T. remember
    You were an alien too
    Before you were grown.

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