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Funny Places Poems | Funny Poems About Places

These Funny Places poems are examples of Funny poems about Places. These are the best examples of Funny Places poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry | |


So I walked into my local supermarket
to buy my weekly shipment of Kit Kat bars,
Cinnamon Toast Crunch,
and Ovaltine powder mix.

As I shake off the snow on my fake Timberland boots,
my skin,
coated in frozen animation,
thaws into warmth’s teardrops from
the supermarket’s 75 degree vents.

This moist sense of happiness was quickly interrupted
when I heard Wilson Phillips, “Hold On”
over the PA system.

Thankfully, the cutlery isle was just to my left. 
So, now, I had plans!

But, before I could commit felony’s song,
I saw her.

A Portuguese goddess
with a strut that can ruin a man’s dignity.

She had Autobahn curves,
dark brown curls of hair & visuals,
and thick flesh meat that even Vegans would envy.

Her face lacked Maybelline coated misapprehension.
Thank God!
Cause I never did like clowns.

After staring longingly at her,
like a crack head with impulsive eyes upon a broken/unlabeled bag of baby powder,
she breezed past my stifled posture and clocked in to work.

She didn’t even get a chance to smell my $500 cologne called “Piece of Me”.

So with new-found urges to grab all my groceries,
like a burglar who really has to pee,
I rush to express checkout. 

There she is.

Her register beeps in coupon lady’s rhapsody,
while my register needs a cleanup on Isle 9.

Now it’s my turn.

With girlish inner-screams of boy-band intensity,
I say, “Hi”.

She scans my apples, while I scan her melons.
The melons that the customer ahead of me didn’t want…
…they were on sale.

Go fig.

As if she read my mind,
she asks,
“Are you feeling warm now?”

“All I want is to be the heat in your moment”,
which I almost said.

But, “Now I am”, is uttered.

As she smiled with seductive demure,
she handed me my receipt
with her phone number on back.

As I left the market,
I began to get cold again.

These winds of change
became gusts of numbness.

I locked myself out of my heart.

I turned around to go back inside.

Only to discover, 
she didn’t have the key.

© Drake J. Eszes

Copyright © Drake Eszes

Details | Limerick | |

Viagra Falls

There once was a man from Niagara
whose wiener's so long it would stab ya'

but when it got little 
his pills became skittles   
until he O.D.'d on Viagra

© ~JSLambert  2011*****A classic "stiff" competitor, standing "firm" amongst other "members" in the "thick" of the competition:) hope everyone gets "a rise" out of it!

Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Couplet | |

Loony Tunes

<                                        Cascading lakes and streams
                                           The loon stands out it seems

                                           Minnesota's state bird
                                           I know it must sound absurd

                                           Adopted in nineteen sixty one
                                           Wails and yodels heard under the sun

                                          Black and white bearing red eyes
                                          Wingspans five feet can make one cry

                                          Body lengths up to three feet
                                          Yet  clumsy on lands and moss peat

                                          They are high speed flyers
                                          And great underwater divers

                                          They can dive up to ninety feet
                                          In pursuit of fish they want to eat

                                         They are even on our license plates
                                         An critical habitat drawn on metal slates

                                         Twelve thousand of these unique birds
                                         God that has to be a lot of turds

                                        But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
                                        Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues

Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog  Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Quatrain | |

Granddads Book

In my quiet times I often try,
To remember places I've been.
To recall folk I have passed by,
And sights that I have seen.

There is nothing wrong with my mind,
Sometimes my memory is quite refined.
I think it's filled over many a year,
With so much junk, nothing seems clear.

So, I made up my mind to write it all down,
To recall it all caused me to frown
It started like I was in the dark,
A memory flared, I was in the park.

That day in the park was just the lever,
I found my mind was as good as ever.
Tho' times and places got out of line,
I wrote it all down, now wasn't I clever!

I'm nearly at the end of my story,
A journey I'm glad that I took.
For my grandsons to read in years to come,
I'll call it Granddads Book.

© Dave Timperley 2012.

Copyright © Dave Timperley

Details | Narrative | |

Tallahassee Driving

upon hard grey streets of asphalt I drive
through morn’s muted orange glow 
white headlights shine, red brake lights blink in time
with changing signals red, yellow, green
disoriented city visitors a hindrance to the flow
why at seven a.m.

now stopped two cars back waiting for green
a woman in a minivan ahead primps methodically 
striving in effect to give herself a perm.
the man beside is engrossed in the news
early edition of  today’s tabloid spread over the wheel
will he know when it’s time to go

behind, a husband and wife, I assume
each talk animatedly on their phones
while obnoxious unrestrained children carouse 
a movie playing on the DVD
an ancient pickup stopped in the suicide lane
right turn flashing “let me in!”

green, the light changes, yet still we wait
one, two, three and horns start to blare
shaken are they from hypnotic states
virtual hair salons, libraries, and phone booths abandoned
traffic moves once again in earnest
until the very next crowded intersection.

Copyright © Michael Santner

Details | Rhyme | |

Where is the Bathroom?

I had to find a bathroom,
A reasonable request,
I was all alone
And my bladder was quite stressed.

So I asked a man nearby,
“Do you know where a bathroom is?”
He merely shook his head,
And went about his biz.

I continued walking,
And sure enough around,
A woman with her children
Could tell me where a bathroom’s found.

She said, “I have no idea,
I’m busy you can tell.”
She fussed to shush her baby,
Who had just begun to yell.

I continued on my quest,
Moving with rapid stride,
When I found a large restaurant,
Surely, there must be a bathroom inside!

I went up to the waiter,
I said, “I really have to pee.”
Slightly irritated,
I decided to forego all pleasantry.

He said, “Oh, ours isn’t working,
Someone clogged it the day before,
But there is one a few blocks down,
About three or four.”

And so I hurried along,
Quite desperate to find the joint,
My bladder was close to reaching
Its natural breaking point.

I reached a tiny gas station,
Where the clerk mumbled to me,
“We do have an outside bathroom,
But someone lost the key.”

I turned and stomped outside,
I wailed out vehemently,
“How hard is it to find a bathroom
In modern society?”

A gentleman heard my plight,
And said, “You know, there’s a store—“
I interrupted, “Never mind,
I don’t have to go anymore.”

Copyright © Michele Nold-Godleske

Details | Free verse | |

Georgia Muse

I went to Georgia without my bonjo in my hand I knew it would be great after I landed and took a stand I told them my name and they asked, "What's your fame?" I reached for my muse and turned it loose like a goose They straightened their ties and said “O’ me, O’ my!” “We made a mistake about this poetic rhyming guy!” Someone handed me a bonjo and they all joined the tango My muse had its way and we had a wonderful stay As we departed for home they started to sing, “Hurry back poet, may your muse give you wings!”

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr

Details | Free verse | |

The Arizona Heat ---Tagged!!!

The heat of summer makes her brain gelatin
The Arizona sun turns her into a skeleton
Time and space she does not put to waste
Really, this poet lady is one of great taste

Iced tea and lemonade in the Arizona sunlight
Create an atmosphere for her that’s just right
Ink just drying on her newly crafted poem
Always ready to rate on the pole of totem

Tall she stands with stature in poet's land
Only doing right waving her magic wand
Leading other poets to higher heights
Lovely readings are on her poetic site

Everyone should look in her poetic bag
What? Jill Martin, you are now tagged!

Comments:  Okay Jill, I was tagged by Tamiviolet Manchas.  As a result, I have to 
pass the tag along.   Your name is on the top of the list.  Your poetry is just 
wonderful!  Now, you must find a poet whose poetry you enjoy reading, and tag 
that poet with a poem.  Man, this is so much fun!  Chau!

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr

Details | Free verse | |

The Valley of Desolation

I didn’t see a mammoth on my walk today
I don’t think any mammoths saw me
But the rocks did
The rocks had seen the mammoths
The rocks saw me
And, before the mammoths
They remember the winter when the glaciers came
And scoured the moors
And gouged the valleys
And deposited the rocks themselves
Where I saw them today
Sleeping in the sun
Dreaming of those mammoths and those early men
I wonder what they thought of me?

Note: Valley of Desolation, Wharfedale, Yorkshire, UK

Copyright © Nigel Fawcett

Details | Free verse | |

Caught in the Rain

It came with a flash upon my back
Caught off guard, suspenders hanging
Madly rushing to find a place so safe

From around the bend with a honk
“Hey watch your steps” was a shout
Horn blowing while in passing 
One disgruntled taxi driver glaring
Newspaper umbrella in ruins

Noisy rumbling above from a subway
Heading down the track, clank, clank, clank
Brown dog barking, woof, woof, looking back

Shelter at last, finally found a spot
The rain came down with a heavy shout 
Caught shirtless and without shoes
Now sipping coffee listening the blues 
Feeling brand new tasting some stew

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr

Details | Burlesque | |

Redneck FATHER'S DAY------


"Storm over yet...?"

"Well hay'ell ye'ah! 
 sum'body git me a da'gumm cole beer.
 whadda'bou  that boy th'er?
 sum'body git him'a cole beer too!"

"Diddy! that boy ain't nothin' but 8 years old!"

"Wha'choo sayin? 
 na'I don't give a jolly'durn, if he ain't nuttin but 8 year'owed!
 'dat boy dun' sat him thr'ew a big ol', storm! 
 torna'durr warnin' too!
 he gonna have him'a cole burr;  
 on me!"
 my treat!
 mama, git him'a cole burr! 
 ro'tt now; 
 ta'days father's day!" 

© 2011  ~JSLambert Esquire


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO

Details | Limerick | |

1953 Ford Truck

In my travels around....
from town to town...
I found sitting next to a tree...

a red truck for sale...
that looked like _ell!
a ford, nineteen fifty-three...

So I knocked on the door...
and wasn't for sure...
if they'd sell it to me...

When they answered the door...
they wanted more...
but I gave them two-fifty, not three...

I got it running at last...
and oh! what a task!
I couldn't wait to set it free...

Yea!! it's really fast...
when I give it the gas...
ask those cops who tickets to me!

The body's intact...
just one ding and a whack!!
I'll paint it just wait and see!!!


Copyright © Lawrence Ingle

Details | Monoku | |


One more alien... an extra terrestrial. Bloody foreigners.

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Verse | |

Good Manners

When dinning out in a restaurant there are things you should not do!
                                                                                                                  Please use the napkins that have been provided not the edge of the table cloth
while pretending to be absentminded and leaning lopsided

If your roll flies of the table politely say whoops or even oops will do 
as long as you pick it up so someone else doesn't ski doo

When your belly is a little larger and is sitting on your plate
as you try to investigate what happen to your plate
sit further back or bring your own crate

While eating your delicious dinner you proceed to pick your nose
explaining to your guest a fly flew up your hole
when you know this isn't so

Now as for gas goes you feel your stomach start to rumble and roll
seeking a way out below
whether it's loud, quite, or a little tweak it's definitely going to stink

If you feel a burp coming on leaving a taste in your mouth 
like that of a derriere
keep your mouth closed so nobody else has to wave and swear

Now ladies with the bright red lip stick who feel you have to rub 
your teeth with your fingers searching for those sneaky food invaders
do it in the bathroom and you can even use your tweezers

When dinning out without a doubt good hygiene is a must
please at stay home if your hair is so greasy it's started to gather dust

While slurping can be a sign of good taste
it's not if you are eating in haste and half of the food is on your face.

So please show some couth when dining out!

T Reams 4/4/2015

Copyright © TAMMY REAMS

Details | Burlesque | |

Adam & Eve Inventory Accountants

Adam was an 
acceptable accountant
And Eve a bubblingly 
bright bookkeeper;
Adam loved the 
First-In, First-Out
Accounting (FIFO) system, 
While Eve preferred 
The Last-In, First-Out
Inventory (LIFO) system;  
Together they testified that
Inventoried sweet fruit 
should neither 
Sits and spoil 
nor go to the 
Garden wastebasket 

Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr

Details | Lyric | |

Country Boy, City Slicker On CD

Well, I moved into town to live like a city slicker,
Loaded my truck, found a place, and here I am,
Though a country boy has a head a bit thicker,
City life is not so hard to understand,

And I've been learnin' how to use a computor,
How to do some picture takin' with a cell phone,
How to get insurance for my truck and motor scooter,
But city life is nothing like back home,

Because where I come from, they call it the boonies,
Dirt roads, back woods, life as country as can be,
Though now I'm mixed in with all the town loonies,
They'll never take the country out of me,

Yea, I can still plant me a nice little garden,
Though not nearly as big as it use to be,
And still listen to country music, Dolly Parton,
She's on my coffee mug for all to see,

And I still get to do some dear huntin'
For those split tails runnin' 'round here,
And I make sure to keep my truck tuned and runnin'
By way of Auto Zone, or I'd run out of beer,

Yea, I livin' in the hood, straight from the boonies,
It's great be an American and free,
Though I'm mixed in good with all the town loonies,
They'll never take the country out of me,

Yea, I moved into town to live like a city slicker,
And I'm doin' the best that I can...
I can drive by Churchill Downs and hear the horses nicker,
I'm just a country boy with a city slicker plan,
I can drive by Churchill Downs and hear the horses nicker,
I'm still a country boy, yea, that's who I am,
Though a country boy has a head a bit thicker,
City life is not so hard to understand.

Copyright © Lawrence Ingle

Details | Limerick | |

Deal Or No Deal

<                             Once was a gal shopped all garage sales
                               Nuts ~ bolts ~ screws ~  all found in one big pail
                               Husband said had nice rack
                               Wife turns ~ gives him.... good smack
                               Loaded - buckshot - and - boy - did - he .... wail 

Written by
Katherine Stella 
Entry For
A Poets Garage Sale

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Limerick | |

Black Friday

<                     ladies ~ gentlemen ~ start those ...... engines
                         miss  ~ Ho ~ down - prices .... would be a sin
                                        best buy - circuit city
                                   black ~ friday .... how pitty
                        5 am ~ now ~ who ~ wears ~ smiling ... grins 

                          k- mart ~ wal - mart ~ target ~ pennys
                              red tag sales of many and plenty
                                 but you must buy in bulks
                        and ~  get ~ guy ~ like ~ the ... hulk
                to ~ push ~ cart ~ while ~ you ~ chat ~ with ... jenny

                         let's ~ all ~  hop ~ on ~ over ~ to ~ I - hop
                         your one stop for christmas breakfast slop
                                sure pancakes sounds yummy
                                     but wait till hits tummy 
                                 be sitting on stool till it plops

Entry For
Carolyn Devonshire's
Commericialized Holiday Humor Contest
Gl All And Happy Holidays
Love Kathy & Jenny

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Bio | |

Solitude: To Yoda, An Ode

Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.

Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.

Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.

Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.

My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.

Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Narrative | |


Literature was pursued
by the greatest individuals who ever lived,
and they left us works of unsurpassable wisdom;
human emotions have always been the same, 
and this can't attest to the fact that they will not change anytime soon,
but the freer we are, the further we go up in our balloon.

The richest heritage of Humankind
is found in the written word, which is heard often and not really understood;
where would we be today without the plays and sonnets of Shakespeare that were quite sad,  
or Dante's famous canto, not excluding superb works by modern writers?...
During the dark ages, monks translated books from Greek and Latin into common languages;
as the barbarians destroyed everything found in their path, civilization did not end.

Tragedies of famous people attracted the lucrative minds of poets who had heard of them,
thus embellishing them with their vivid imagination and present actual facts...I follow in
their poetic footsteps, writing down stories that have recently happened, or occurred
before I was born; and with ideas as interesting as theirs, I continue in that tradition
without envying their unaging expressions and distinguished style, but by aggrandizing them.

Literature has finally found its merited place in History, unlikely a hundred years ago,
more people are voraciously reading, and keeping the writers busy by admiring
their sensational works, making comments of encouragement to boost up their optimism;
and to theaters they go and spent an entire night to listen to drama and scoff,
laugh, or cry when emotions intensify by the sconces of the electric lights; and cheering,
they applaud the richest heritage of Humankind on stage, and are captivated by its scenario.

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Free verse | |

A Simple Southern Christmas

It's gonna be a simple southern Christmas here.
All I want from Santa is some egg nog, bourbon and beer.
I'm gonna wait on Santa Christmas Eve night,
and when he's not lookin' I just might,
steal his reindeer.
It's gonna be a simple southern Christmas here.
I'm sending out my Christmas cheer.
I'm gonna sit on my front porch swing and sing.
It will be a good thing to hear those jingle bells ring.
I thought I seen Santa on the backwoods bayou road,
but instead it was a big fat toad.
It'a a wonderful simple southern Christmas here.
Santa just brought me some egg nog, bourbon, and beer.
When he wasn't lookin' I stole his reindeer.
So now I can deliver my Christmas cheer.
But hurry, hurry, I'm in a rush,
got to give that reindeer a little push.
Got to go, got to go,
got to get home to fix my gumbo.
It is Christmas day,
and I'm in  a rush I must say.
It's gonna be a simple southern Christmas here.
Just add egg nog, bourbon and beer.
Mix it up with some Christmas cheer.
I'm ready for Christmas every year.

Copyright © shannon farlouis

Details | Lyric | |

A Pub-ng We Go

Hey, Ho! A pub’ng we go… And I’ll bring along, those Zany Trolls.
What’s better, than to drink, with friends, my Dear… as merrily, off we go!

We’ll leave the frats, in the dust, and bring The Bun, merrily, along.
He had a great run, at Easter time, now he can let, the good times roll.
Who knows best, than a nest of Trolls, how to have, a really great time!
A Biker Bar should fill our sails, as we go, courting the best… of it all.

Hey, Ho! A pub’ng we go… And I’ll bring along, those Zany Trolls.
What’s better, than to drink, with friends, my Dear…as merrily, off we go!

The beers great, the girls’ first rate, I’ll ride a full-blown Harley Hog.
To ride them down, across the town, my hair, flowing behind, in the air.
But first we’ll make a new drinking song, betting on, who’s best, by far.
Biker Dudes, Trolls enthused, raise their mugs in unity, again, once more!

Hey, Ho! A pub’ng we go… And I’ll bring along, those Zany Trolls.
What’s better, than to drink, with friends, my Dear… as merrily, off we go!

It’s all fun, as with pool cues in hand, we try to, learn to play Eight Ball.
We’ll dance on the floor, and some on the bar, as rowdier we become.
But we’re the best, with glass in fist, as we sing our new… drinking song.
So don’t be glum! Here, come along, to laughter amid, such joyful fun.
Hey, Ho! A pub’ng we go… And I’ll bring along, those Zany Trolls.
What’s better, than to drink, with friends, my Dear… as merrily, off we go!

We’ll have fun, then move along, as our song wins, and the tab is yours.
You can join, as comes, the next bar, and we’ll, start all over, once more!
It’s party time, until dawn, for Trolls can hold, great quantities of rum.
As drinking games come, we win every time, as the losers pay the bill.

Hey, Ho! A pub’ng we go… And I’ll bring along, those, Zany Trolls.
What’s better, than to drink, with friends, my Dear…as merrily, off we go!

(A drinking song for the pure fun it: sung like a pirate song clinking mugs.)

Copyright © Carol Eastman

Details | Free verse | |

My strange Village

I live in a very small very old village
In England where everyone knows your name
But what makes the place rather odd
Is the locals who are very strange.

There's Gina the window cleaner
Her bum the size of mar's
And Lady Quinn
Who drives like a mad lady
In her Bentley car
There's old Doctor Mckenna
Who always complains that he's ill
And young pregnant sally who forgot 
To take the pill (again)
Farmer Giles and his sheep
Tom the butcher boy who walks around naked 
In his sleep
Norris and Horace
the identical twins
And gambling Fred who backs the horses
and never wins
Old Nelly at the post office
And Nora who has the local shop
And P.C plod the nervous local cop.

They all get together on a Friday night
In the local pub and get merry and gossip
For it's the communities hub
Many tales have been told
About a Headless horseman
hereabouts who rides through the village
around midnight when the lights go out.

Headless horseman?
It makes no sense to me
Because if he was riding a horse
How the hell would he see.

Every year we have the village fete
and people from all around cue up at the gate
we used to have a morris dance
But morris can't dance no more
Because Morris hung up his clogs
When his feet got very sore
There's Mollies stall of home preserves
And paddy and his performing fleas
That leaves everyone scratching
And heading for the trees.

The old church stands on top of the hill
and long after the bells have rung
Your ears are ringing still
When anyone does something wrong
they have to face the old ducking pond
I've been ducked a time or two
And got completely wet through.

It's claimed Robin Hood
Met maid Marion in our local wood
Bet they were up to no good
And his merry men got really merry 
Down at the local pub.

If you ever visit us at our village
Hogs bottom's end
We might be a bit strange but we'll greet you like a friend
But be wary
Many a visitor never leave
And meet a grizzly end, ha ha ha haaaaaa.

Peter Dome.copyright.2014. July.

Copyright © Peter Dome

Details | Haiku | |

Harvest Festival

aerial viewing
outstretched crows flying frenzy
harvest festival

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Limerick | |

There Once Was A Young Boy Called Tim

There once was a young boy called Tim,
Who decided the Mersey to swim,
Got in to his knees,
But started to freeze,
So decided it wasn't for him!

Copyright © Sharon Smith

Details | Free verse | |

Conspiracy: Who Killed The Easter Bunny

A crowded table, all suspended in shock 
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock

Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable

They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied

Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Free verse | |


In late October the reddest moon didn't change its phase,
it remained in the same spot to watch the witches' ballet;
the loud music matched the mood of the mystical night: tambourines
and flutes frantically played; sneers, jeers, giggles of the wildest witches
mixed with the goblins' roars while they danced around a huge, hot fire.

I smelled a foul odor, the wild dogs feasted on a bloody oar,
" Leave some for us, or we'll turn you into bats! "
the hunched witch snarled with menacing eyes,
but they roared and threatened her with sharp teeth,
then Olga began to speak Latin words to cast  
a spell on them and before it worked, they fled.

Glad that they had left, she dragged the dead animal
and hung it on a long rod to roast on the sparking fire;
hungry witches continued to dance with forks and knives 
in their hands, anxiously waiting for their Halloween treat.  

Copyright © Andrew Crisci

Details | Haiku | |

Sunet Strip

<                                  well isn't that swell
                                lost another cool surfboard ...
                                      holy sharks galore

                                        beyond horizon
                                 the sun bids day well ado ...
                                       happy trails to you

                                       top of old smokey
                                  cumulus congestive skies ...
                                    coughing up a storm

                                        excursion riding
                                  using buoyant enforcement ...
                                      to capture the sun

                                       yacht and small vessel
                                  endlessly floats rippled lake ...
                                       feeling abandoned                                   

Copyright © Katherine Stella

Details | Verse | |

When Grandma takes me to the park

When Grandma takes me to the park!
By Kim Mosteiro
I love when my grandma comes and picks me up to go to the park. We ride in
grandmas car to the park; and grandma sometimes stops on the way and we get ice
I like sliding down the slide; grandma waits at the bottom and catches me, or
sometimes she will slide down with me. One day I was swinging, and grandma
pushed me way high, I flew as high as the birds do, it was so much fun!
Grandma taught me how to climb a tree, just like she did when she was little, and
climbed her grandma's tree, to pick apricots for her Grandma's pies! Grandma
pushes me real fast on the merry-go-round; I go round and round and round and it
makes my head dizzy, and then I spin around just like the merry-go-round.
One day we saw a butterfly, it was blue and brown; I chased it and tried to catch
it but it got away. Grandma told me that every time I saw a butterfly, it would
mean that she was thinking about me; and she gave me a kiss and said that's what
it would feel like if a butterfly landed on my nose and kissed me!
But there was one day when Grandma took me to the park and I saw a snake, it
was scary when he shook his tail and it rattled. Grandma said I am to never go
near one and try to pick it up because it can hurt me, it's not like a butterfly. A
snake will bite you and make you sick Grandma says, so I will only chase butterfly's
not snakes.
I can't wait to go to the park again and see what new adventure Grandma and I
will go on.
“Dedicated to my Grandchildren: ADAM, ROSIE, SERENA

Copyright © Kim Mosteiro

Details | Alliteration | |

Banana Boat Bob

<                        Banana ~ boat ~ Bob ~ is ~ a ~ slippery..... Boob
                          Thought ~ that ~  this ~ town ~ lost ~ it's .... groove
                          No ~ spice  ~  no ~  life ~ no  .... nothing
                          Little ~ lost ~ boy ~ now ~ looks ~ for ~ his ~ Lucy's ....  ring

                          When ~ where ~ what ~ or ~ even ......  why
                          I'll ~ inquire ~ insist ~ innovate ~ or ~ even  ..... lie
                          His ~ history ~ of ~ having ~ such ~ big ....... hamstrings
                          Maybe ~ even ~ mighty ~ magical ~ musical ~ fruits ~ and .... greens

                         Or ~ having ~ big ~ over-sized ~ onions ~ olives  ~ and ..... Kiwi
                         screw ~ this ~ he's ~ scum  ~ skewered ~ tossed ~ back ~ to ... sea
                         Poor ~ precious ~ pretty ~  Lucy ~  got .......    pranked
                         Cause ~ curious ~ Bob ~ couldn't ~ control ~ love ~ so ~ he ....  sank


                        All ~ alone ~ and ~ now ~ very .... angry
                        Drowing ~ deep ~ in ~ own ~ do-do  ~ droppings .... whopie 
                        Luscious ~ Lucy ~ now ~ can ~ look ~ long ~ and ...... hard
                        For ~ another ~ fast ~ floating ~ free ~ salemens ~ not ~ selling.... lard

Entry For
Linda Marie's
Luscious Love Lingers Contest
G.L. All

Copyright © Katherine Stella