Randy Freie Poet Rhyme

Puff and Stuff

He puffed the magic dragon
Till he was ninety-three
And frolicked in a smoky mist
Beneath the ganja tree

With little pipes and papers
He loved to huff and puff
It made him think such silly things
And munch a bunch of stuff

All red-eyed he would travel
With puff deep in his pouch
To blaze a trail thru rain or hail
Or tatered on the couch

But then one day of sorrow
He could find no puff no more
And from then till the morrow
Was jonesing on the floor

Without his lifelong friend
He died lonely in his cave
Tho everyone that knew him
Laid sticky hops on his grave

Now he puffs the magic dragon
Above both you and me
And frolics in a smoky mist
Beneath the ganja tree

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Kim Rodrigues May 1, 2024 at 4:38 AM It’s all puff and stuff til it’s not anymore…good one. Randy Freie May 1, 2024 at 12:04 PM Hi Kim, now that I'm in my sixties, I don't puff that stuff anymore. I need all the brain cells that still bounce around in my head. Thanks again for your feedback my sister.

Daisy Meadows May 1, 2024 at 12:40 AM A funny poem. Well done. Randy Freie May 1, 2024 at 2:06 AM Hi Jeanette, I don't know if it's true or not, but that song is supposed to be about smoking weed. If you really listen to the lyrics, it kind of makes sense. Who knows. But that was the inspiration for the poem. It takes me back when I was young and dumb. What am I saying, I'm still young and dumb. Well, dumb anyway.