My pet alligator sits under my feet.
He waits for food to fall while I simply eat.
He likes to chase the ball and bite with his sharp teeth.
His claws are super pointy, and he walks upon a leash.
He’s scaly without baths,
Smelly when not clean.
He’s very good at “sit,”
And trained to not be mean.
He likes the water much, except for when it rains.
And when we’re gone,
All day long,
We keep him in a crate.
My pet alligator is the best pet on this Earth,
I’d never trade him ever, for everything he’s worth.
Copyright © Emily Marshall | Year Posted 2013
6 years old
Not SUMMER TIME YET.
NOT even close
AUTUMN AT MOST
THE PURPOSE OF
Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2015
black tar sweats, squabbles, shakes in the glare of the ocean of blue.
white light engulfs the sky.
stealing the heat we grip the ground with our claws.
scan the black tar with our yellow eyes.
our blood begins to warm.
her hair is melting to soft green scales and mine to black
blending into the ground.
we are lizards,
we laze in the sun,
it cannot scare us with its glare
we are lizards,
silent strong quick predators,
unnoticed yet still there.
we stalk a flying bumble bee; shattered glass, yellow string
buzzing it moves anxiously, falling, rising in the wind
she moves too slowly to catch it
it glides higher in the sky
we watch as it soars to freedom
we should have learnt to fly
black tar engulfs my vision
cradles and crushes my head
white noise of harsh invasion
her cry consumes my dread
our scales snapped
they tear from our skin
without amour to shield the attack
a stampede of torn and dirty shoes feast upon the remains
they dig and dive into my stomach
with intent to play their games
teeth of bound dark leather
snouts of practiced malice
souls etched with childrens patterns
dirt and gum
now printed on our bodies
with one more laugh and a jolt of pain
my eyes are blue now
and hers are drowning
the sky is blue
the day pleasant
the floor warm
but the trance has gone
our reality mangled
we are no longer lizards
we cannot pretend anymore
we are children
weak, shy, yet far too noticed
labelled, bruised and saw.
by Jess Tizard
Copyright © Jess Tizard | Year Posted 2014
< Betty Boop bought boyfriend Bimbo some basketballs to bounce
But being blind her boyfriend Bimbo bounced Betty Boop
Boy Betty Boop did boldly bounce bad
This Little Lady Is After My Own Heart
For No matter What She Does Wrong
Her Eyes Seem To Capture The One She Loves LOL
And Also One Of My Favorite Cartoons
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
perplexed then puzzled
as clarity contracts
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2011
Petey 'possum, pirates pipe
picked a persimmon, puckered
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2010
Mama Mable made music mellow with mood
But baby boy Bradley bellowed and booed
So sensitively she started singing sweetly
Yet the youngster yowled yearningly
Poor perplexed papa peered and pleaded
“No nocturnal nuisances are needed,”
He hurried through the house, his hefty frame hobbled
Baby boy Bradley basked blissfully with his bedtime bottle
*For Constance’s Forms of Poetry 101 contest. Never tried alliteration before.
by Carolyn Devonshire
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
Sweet sixteen - Save
You're young yet
Don't deny dumb daughter
Feel free forever
Never know nothing
Men's mourning manly
Finding for fresh flesh
Copyright © jun-jun villanueva | Year Posted 2011
(This is a fictional poem)
My neighbor played an April fools' prank when he called me and said I won a
I was furious when I learned it was all fake.
When he said April fools', you should've heard the names he got called.
I happen to be his barber and when he comes in my shop, I'm going to shave
Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2007
I talk to him all the time,
His only words are "Hi,"
His heart is already taken,
My crush for him has not gone by.
The sight I see is broken,
The love I share is lost,
A shattered mirror in my eyes,
Never saying anything is my cost.
If I ever mentioned the word,
A word much more to say,
So hard to reveal or share,
Is fading with each day.
I'm scared I'd mess it up,
That I'd say something wrong,
To let him know how I truly feel,
No one can explain in song.
Never been kissed before,
Im saving it for "the one,"
There is always a first for everything,
I know it can never be done.
Lust is such a word,
To be used in much of the wrong way,
If I am committed to this,
I shall never do this today.
How tragic my life will be,
For I think I've suffered enough,
I'm sure much worse has happened,
Love, a broken path, so rough.
Touching skin on skin,
His lips as pure as rain,
My heart left alone, unnoticed,
As another day passes again.
Copyright © Paige Harris | Year Posted 2007
Today Tiny Timmy tries to talk. Terry Thomson tells Timmy that talking is too
tough for a two-year-old. Tony Thomson tells Terry not to tell Timmy that. Tammy
Tilson tells Tony, Terry and Tiny Timmy that Tinseltown has two tall towers,
Tinseltown Toy Tower and Tinseltown Trinket Tower. Tammy tells Tony that
there's a Two-Year-Old talking translator there. So Tiny Timmy, Too-Tall Terry,
and Talkative Tony travel to Tinseltown. While traveling, Tony talked to their
Treasurer, Tommy. Tommy told them to talk to Tina. Tina told Tony to travel
tirelessly. Then, during the Thomsons travel, Tina traveled too. At Tinseltown,
Terry taps a tambourine, Tony talks to a toucan, Tina throws a truck, and Timmy
traverses to the trinket tower. Then he finds the two-year-old talking translator. It
translated to this,”Why does this poem have so many T's?”
Copyright © Nicholas Clayborne-Hughes | Year Posted 2006
One day, little Red Riding Hood’s mother told her to deliver a basket of food to her elder grandmother.
She told Red not to talk to any strangers and to stay on the path to old grandmother’s house.
Little Red concurred,
and left hastily.
Not long after her departure, she met a man
sitting under a tree.
He was skinny and twisted and evil
like a petrified tree she had once seen.
She still remembered it.
He lay there, sulking in the darkness,
contorting a caterpillar between his bony fingers,
who had been helplessly inching along.
It was a rather beautiful creature to Red.
He looked up at Red, eyes as black as heroin,
The clashing of dark and light had finally made its debut on this joyous earth.
Come here, he said.
But mother told me to stay on the path and not to talk to strangers.
He set the mangled caterpillar on the cold earth,
picked his gangly body up,
And extended his long curious hand in a rather excited manner.
She dubiously met her hand with his.
Chills ran across her body like soldiers charging in war.
The mood changed.
Red cape, blonde hair, eyes as viridescent as ecstasy.
She runs from the wolf.
The wind dragging his sharp claws through her mangled hair.
Racing through patches of thistles
pricking the bottoms of her soft baby feet.
The feeling of abandonment sets in as the shadows grow closer.
Red! Come to grandmother!
She hears a familiar voice in the near distance.
Grandmother! She calls
Grandmother hovers over her,
She picks Red up by her wrist and drags her across the ground.
The curious cherub notices:
why Grandmother, what big ears you have!
All the better to hear you with, my dear.
Why Grandmother, what big eyes you have!
All the better to see you with, my dear.
Why Grandmother, what big hands you have!
All the better to steal you with!
Grandmother rips off her gown and a petrified tree emerges from the shadows.
Red, submerged in the darkness, lets out one last cry.
A wise old huntsman approaches the path
that Red and her assailant are embarking on.
He hears the cry of the poor child.
He goes running towards the terror-stricken girl
in hopes of becoming a hero.
To his dismay, he finds the girl.
Her wrists bruised,
her hair matted with mud and leaves,
cape -- torn.
Consumed by the wolf, the girl lie there,
no more worries must she face.
There is no hero today, nor will there ever be.
Copyright © Morgan Houck | Year Posted 2016