(Cinderella)
Dainty slipper of glass shined in sun ray,
she had lost on her hurried run away.
Entranced prince made ardent vow
to find her somewhere somehow,
place it on her pretty feet come what may.
(Snow white and seven dwarfs)
She was lying in deep sleep, the prince found
her beauty was astoundingly profound.
He kissed her with perfection,
she woke up from dejection,
rare rapture she sensed for long all around.
(Alice in wonderland)
The Hatter was mad as much he could be,
handing round infinite cups of hot tea.
With puzzles and melody
they wandered along in glee
through the confusion, amusingly free.
(Sleeping beauty)
The prince found her asleep, face sweet with flair,
he kissed her with affection and with care.
She woke up with entranced eyes,
got filled with joy in surprise,
expelled the curse with flashy flicker rare.
Window; and a portal.
Strikingly magical.
The year's changeful skied and aired
Of one day's revolving.
Disorientated yet?
Amusingly I bet!
All those patters, colours askew.
Once so viewed a hand in .
All that for its world sensual
Tempted and tickled us
Was dangled a water into;
For naked leg's "ooh, ooh"!
Sounds and sights, furthest woman's
Enticed, excited by!
Friends' hands alone, amusingly
Spun round of, dizzily.
It is quite common to kiss injuries on those wee.
At three, my son asked to have bath autonomy.
I tossed a washcloth, then stood where he could not see.
Soon, he called out words that amusingly shook me,
"Mom, it washed sore, come kiss ouchy on my pee-pee."
Shopping, strolling him down the grocery store aisle
where female hygiene products are sorted in piles,
my son, age four, earnestly said, "When I'm grown, I'll
buy all these things with flowers on them for my wife."
His words styled a smile in me that would last for life.
I used mild-applied wooden spoons for mood anchors.
This set me up for disgust from food cart flankers
when my son yelled, "Look Mom, a hole bag of spankers."
My child, four, eyed that, not the shelved Power Rangers?
I hoped no one would report child welfare dangers.
Once, when a minister summed up his sermon's span
asking "Who's the greatest force in the universe?",
my son, at five, stood up with some dramatic plan.
Lifting his toy hero as high as small ones can,
he enthusiastically declared, "Batman!"
Thoughts of vacation, developed my fav word pearl,
"How many times do I wake up before Disney World?"
More recently, l’ve romanticized the idea of falling in love through silence.
Maybe it's because my mother pushes love on me through her tongue.
Maybe it's because I prefer the inner monologue of myself rather than what I think others perceive me as.
I don't want to faze the mind of whom
I desire by saying I do not wish to be loved by my exterior at all (in both appearance and demeanor). Although I find that,
according to my standards,
consciousness is more amusingly complex, and therefore more significant.
My dilemma: submission to another mind.
To truly know someone, do I have to force
my mind's sermon out of its cocoon?
If my comfort only ranges to falling in love
in silence, how important can my words be?
The easy answer may be to ignore the statement made about either account,
although my soul does not let me.
Tragic.
It may be impossible to find
another to be happily desolate with.
Note: Falling in love does not equal the concepts of marriage, sex, or romance.
In my version of equality, a blink of an eye
might cast the same spell.
.
Dude's limp described by the sum in ink
could be only by an inclusion of think
"definitely dude's dexterity deserves downtime
for all the day long hiz soldier stood sublime"
"i'm done" hiz exclaimed smeared in hern stink
* "limerick poems have a humorous or
amusingly coarse or irreverent subject"...
i quoted PS vide supra, "irreverent" being
this case and for the;anywhoz, this write iz
not humorous to the bard 'fore yours
Funny, it is how witnessing the root form of greed
Can cause an otherwise healthy vision to bleed
Humorous is a poorly conceived disguise
So much so that blood drips from my eyes
Hilarious is the blinding light
Hemorrhaging to the sight
Amusingly though, it's not so cryptic
As phlebotomy consumes the optic
If any of this has you seeing red
Maybe control your anger instead
It was weekly Judgement Day
And the Duty God
Wondered what to do
With all the miserable sods.
Send them to hell!!!
They’ll wallow with delight
Praising the lord
Because they were right:
Because they created
So much hell on earth
Maybe I’ll send them
Back for rebirth
Maybe they’ll learn
It wasn’t just a rumour
That we gave mankind
A sense of humour.@
Now let’s decides
Today’s winner
Of The Award for the most
Amusingly Original sinner
English but Paris born Hillaire Belloc
who amusingly did mock
With nonsense verse oh so light
ever humerous & never trite
A Golden Girl, Ms. Betty White, one day shall meet
Your life measured in memories that were sweet
May you tap dance to the rhythm of the beat
As you were always amusingly funny on your feet
1/10/2022
Betty White Jan. 17, 1922-Dec. 31, 2021
A Celebrity Epitaph Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
Dadi
Sitting on the doorstep,
She looks at me with her loving eyes.
So weary, I ponder,
They seem to be holding so many mysteries.
They abound with untold tales,
I wonder.
I vow to myself; these stories, I shall hear someday, as she cajoles me to sleep.
She shields me from Rani’s slaps,
Every now and then.
She now snaps at me in a language; melodious song it seems at first.
But quickly it reaches a crescendo of all too familiar words which my ears were accustomed to.
Coming from the magnate of our family,
the revered one; who toils from 7 to 7 and can hardly stands a sound when he is back.
I feel the two have made a pact of some sort;
Otherwise why would they use the same disgruntled mellifluous words,
When they were cross.
Bemused I go on with the task at hand
Oiling the silver-haired roly-poly Dadi’s threads.
Yearning for another round of discordant bitterly words,
Strange why I found them amusingly endearing.
Cheekily I pulled her hair harder this time
With clumps of it ending on my sweaty palms.
Here they come the shower of the much-anticipated jingling jingling words.
A horse was banished to a farm,
Where all were old and grim,
And when he felt he meant no harm,
A cow went up to him.
“T ’was not supposed to be this way,”
The horse said to the cow,
“Of how I ended here today,
I really don’t know how”
“When I was young, my legs would run,
The quickest of the team.
The races that I could have won,
Now visions in a dream.”
“I could have been a battle horse,
With me so very strong.
It’d surely be, with all my force,
A battle minutes long”
“I could have been a horse for show,
As I was very fair.
The sun upon my hide would glow,
And glisten in my hair.”
The cow spoke up, amusingly
“You should not talk of could,
As could and should will never be
For if you could, you would.”
“And just be glad you weren’t around,
Before a week or two.
As there were horses more abound,
And all were sold for glue.”
"Be thankful for what you have."
Jolted my idle pen to jotting.
sAved my words from rotting.
so Intigued toward you cutie.
i am Mesmerized by your beauty.
i've bEgun an attention to detail writing duty,
my pen Ballpointing tatting your name to the page.
oh love Activist, mother and poet my poetry engage.
Lord my iNk see how she amusingly assuage.
frequent Flyer erykah badu type window seat flight.
i’m lifting Off at the sight
of your luxuRious lips.
muse revealeD flirtimg with the letters stream my dream tease
as the sentences strips.
Cute as a button with elegant stances,
Tip-toes so quietly then bravely prances.
Gracefully manicured, an art of purr-fection,
Is seen for a second then changes direction.
So fiery and spunky and lively at play,
Loves pizza and pasta and tuna, if made!
Is clumsy and silly, and loves to climb trees,
Affectionate and mellow and purrs when at ease.
Takes long naps and short laps and hides.
Is known for its granted nine lives.
Independent and needy at will.
Loves freedom and couch time to chill.
Amusingly funny and shy.
Neurotic, mysterious and sly.
Furry and snuggly and smart.
Cats are family-friendly with class!
08 August 2018
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
What would be the most perfect day?
What would bring me the most joy?
The very first thing I’d have to say,
is bringing back to life my sweet little boy.
I’d give him back his favorite train toy.
We would stroll hand and hand on a walk,
pet our dog Bo who would still be alive-
Maybe it would be the day he’d learn to talk,
oh, if only my sweet boy had survived…
a perfect day would be contrived.
The perfect day would be in Autumn,
we would play hopscotch and ball-
I’d pray that good fun I taught him,
then in the leaves he would amusingly fall.
I wonder if he’d grow to be tall?
I’d make him his favorite meal, rice cereal,
hear him laugh and giggle with delight-
I need nothing bought or of material,
just to tuck him in gently at night.
Oh, what a beautiful and miraculous sight.
My perfect day would be complete,
as I kiss him tenderly on his head-
I’d tickle his innocent hands and feet,
and whisper, “I love you” in bed.
Now it’s tomorrow that I dread.
The Perfect Day Contest
November 30th, 2017
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