Michelle Mac Donald Poet Ode

Ode To a Puffball

To you plump puffball,
Squatter of the mushroom fungi. 
May your soils be rich
And your spores be many!

Moonstone child of nocturnal reverie
Pride tempts to invite fallacious vanity.
Creamy alabaster skin,
Spongy firm of flesh within.
A saucy lunar face to taunt the sun.
His nomadic gaze leaves no course for fun.
The sun edges off towards autumn skies,
Pragmatically steady; contemplatively wise.

The sun may have kissed her on a whim,
Crazed butterfly flutters; needles to pins.
Translucent skin, her conceit and crown,
Blushes from saffron hue, to Dijon brown.
Physical metamorphosis; transmutations collide,
She becomes a phase converted seasonal bride.
To celebrate this new found core,
She sends up clouds of dust, and sleepy spores.

Carpe Diem.

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John Fleming August 19, 2025 at 3:38 PM Memories of childhood have just come flooding back. Enjoyed, Mikki! :) john

Shane Cooper February 10, 2015 at 1:23 PM Ha Ha Ha! Now that is something I would never have thought to write a poem about. A peice of fungus that felt like a fat backside and smelled like cow poo. My love you are in a league of your own!!!!! love Shane xxx

Shane Cooper February 10, 2015 at 4:15 AM I know no other person, well maybe one, who would write an ode to a puff ball and to make it into such a marvellous poem. My love you must write, I am In total awe of your talent. Apollo I name you poet to the Olympians. You have my love and adoration of your awesome talent. Please please write again!!!!!! Love Shane xxx Michelle Mac Donald February 10, 2015 at 11:51 AM I'd needed to write something nice about it. Someone had come by our house and left one on the counter. Mixed reactions, I'd touched then slapped it (felt like as plump buttock), middle son wanted me to cook something with it. First son walked past it, ignoring it as though by not giving recognition, it might disappear. I tried giving it away to a neighbour.:( Ended by cooking it, but it smelled of the cow pasture where it had grown. :(( Maybe article association? NOT!!!!!

Suzanne Delaney June 4, 2013 at 7:47 PM I love this ode. As kids we used to squash puffballs to see the powder explode. Love this description...'Moonstone child of nocturnal reverie.' Hope you are well. SuZ

Daver Austin August 6, 2012 at 2:51 PM I once knew a puffball like this, but I, like the sun, was "contemplatively wise." Think what my life might have been had I not edged off? Anyway, I've pondered this one before, and I believe it is purely fun - no deep meaning intended. I do love fun poetry. I love this poem, by Mikki the Mischief maker. Love, daver