slogged his foes
with cruel insults
and verbal blows
which would be hard
good thing he only
had a few…
half of whom
did not do words —
the other half were birds
those ecstatic orthodox
don’t know about the ecru
eczema flakes inside my socks
today may celebrate:
ectoplasm, icky stuff,
is served up on a plate
will have an ectoblast
it won’t be telecast…
may use excess
with e’s and c’s
expect a long vacation
a small mistake
can quickly make
a mess of a great story
some words were made to
throw us off
the path to fame and glory…
ignoble ignition invites repetition –
like gm’s recall it’s not noble at all;
ineffable, what can’t be f’d,
i can’t express with reason;
noisome isn’t noisy it just
stinks like fruit off-season;
seminal’s a fluid word
if you get my drift;
restive doesn’t get much sleep,
it works a double shift;
perverse is not perverted
but is used that way too frequently;
nugatory has no nuts,
some comfort for your allergies;
bemused is not amusing
but misused it’s too confusing;
and kinky kinds of dirty minds
don’t go for formication…
fallacious words you may have heard
but they’re rarely used by playas…
i guess we’ll call these kinds of words
rudy caught the leopard’s eye,
implored him not to jeopardize
their chances for survival…
his brother fainted dead as day
the doctor upped and ran away,
which hindered roy’s revival.
the leopard sized the brothers up
but, being full from having supped,
he told them “go, be hasty,
i’ve no desire for you because
you’re half the men your mother was
and doubtless half as tasty”.
so off thy ran the two of them,
abandoning their property.
back home again these two half-men
now study leopard-optery.
like candid conversations
in another constellation,
their conscience disencumbered…
i don’t know what’s wrong with me,
the “c”s have me outnumbered.
in careless conflagration;
a compendium of comestibles
why can’t i cease the “c” words?
i don’t know,
or maybe rewind,
like an auto-remind… … …
a pretty cool thought, i’ll admit
and turn back on later
triumphs and troubles
who sets about popping our bubbles
graphic verse for grown-ups
bi-product poems of living.
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A Bald Bard Blog, Doing Doggerel Doggedly
Writing and drawing her way out of dyslexia...
It started when I gave up smoking and went from there!
“Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.” ―Edgar Allan Poe
Northern Irish Poet based in Belfast - Focused mainly on Romantic Poetry.
Things I should be telling myself
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Everything and nothing in one place.
Confessions of a bookaholic
Love stories with a twist and other peculiar tales
The before, during and after stories, poems and photos of a homeless child.
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I write because I can. I can because I want to. I want to because you said I couldn't.
Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why. -Kurt Vonnegut
Freedom to Break the Silence
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