The dromedary camel has one hump,
and the Bactrian camel has two,
but I always get them mixed up!
Do you?
So, just for a bit of fun,
here are some alternate names for camels.
(Feel free to pick your favorite one!)
One alternative, after some study,
could be a handle like "Dune Buddy".
Or we could suggest, without fear of rebuke,
an appellation like "Desert Duke".
While sipping on some apple cider,
I thought of this one: "Sandy Strider".
And my friend, an avid motorbiker,
has suggested "Hump Hiker".
Here's a basketball reference that's worth the money.
How's this for a name? "Camelo Anthony"!
And a medieval reference which we can allot
would, of course, be none other than "Camel-ot"!
A better name for an octopus?
It's tough to make stuff up.
We could start with a brand-new appellation.
How about a name like "Suction Pup"?!
Or perhaps we could start the debate
with a numerical tag like "Ocean's Eight".
Another name open for discussion
would be a handle like "Squid's Cousin".
Still another, somewhat grandiloquent,
could be the rather pompous "Inknificent".
My Scottish friends, with joy, will weep
if the new label is "Bagpipes of the Deep"!
Or one can almost hear sailors shout "Ahoy!
Is that a rock? No, it's an Ol' Tangly Boy!"
Pleasingly plump
Appealing appellation?
Por favor, senor ~
Propose its purgation
As humanity unfolds you can see the convenience of the buried secrets society has left to disregarding the inevitable point of curiosity humans always have for we unshroud anything we can produce as indecipherable. As the dirt is further dug we shall only find ourselves to be consumed by the great leviathan that which its appellation as we all are aware is called the great unknown or as I see it the whispering void. then our shells consumed among the worms nothing more than more secrets locked away.
Oscans, Ligures and the Apuli as known
Ancient Greek, Samnitics, Sicanis and Celt
Indigenous tribes, one people with love grown
Capodanno Fiorentino o'er lands dwelt
Wine appellation of Sangiovese as shown
Wreaths and lanterns over folklores shine not welt
Carrara marbles as buttress of stronghold
With arts and culture, graced with norms of the bold
Verbs and nouns now bleached and blown,
no longer speak to eye nor ear
except to say ‘time goes on
and all is gone but I am here.’
The meadow is the valley’s crown,
the valley is the mountain’s queen,
the mountain is a minor king
among the appellation rows.
At center of this sylvan scene
stands a statue firm and new
of a woman just past girl.
A bouquet in hand,
a bride waiting for her man.
But her glory will not come
for he refused
to be cut from the stone
and cracked beneath the chisel’s blow.
The meadow at the valley floor
is a riddle to the yellowed road
that twists to follow the mountain wall.
And because there’s nowhere else to go
the tarmac glides past smiling crags,
intimidates the hanging cliff,
glides down through a final turn
and stops at a sign hung low:
‘A fool is buried here.’
the little old man
said i think i can
climb a big ole mountain
but then again on the other hand
ski diving seems like titan
or maybe i could tight rope walk
over the Grand Canyon
fall to my death i might but hey I'm old
so, my life i could abandon
or maybe i will sail the world
looking for the Lochness monster
he maybe big but ill prove he is that
ugly sea monster
but then again that's to much
for i am a old man
so, across Europe i will stroll
upon a single hand
or maybe even hike the good appellation trial
a bear id come across
he'd be mad but he couldn't resist
when i teach him to play lacrosse,
oh, how i wish i could do these amazing things
but hey it's time for my nap
so that's my adventure for the day
i hit my pillow in my lap
Ha! Please take down
The eyesore
You've mounted atop your head.
You wonder why
It feels much too heavy.
Here's the unvarnished truth.
Because, well, because
One cannot be
A fool
And a king
Simultaneously
Your counterfeit diadems
Hold no weight, or value.
They wouldn't shine beneath
A plethora of suns.
Spare yourself
The world's ridicule.
To rule an empire
Unchallenged,
To someday sit
On a throne, wearing
The real McCoy
To travel so much as
Halfway
The long glory road
To acquire the royal appellation
And prestige you covet,
For starters, deep-six
Your distended ego
And delusions of grandeur
Date written: 04/24/2022
Words
Distinct meaningful element
of my shared thought gradient
Given to me from Abba God
Expression ionic way etymology
A sense of trues
My words means those
That are designed
Words alone means not?
Words prompt mandates
Instruct give the green light
The high sign decree
Signals order express
Linguistics theatrical
In speech or writing
Forms sentences gathered
TOGETHER letters in the same space
Written, spoken or printed idiom
Turn a phrase vocable
Appellation
Word
It was simple it is simple
"Those words to be heard"
Listen be of understanding
Even in your own interpretation
Whether you agree or disagree
In freedom my words my anomaly
These the words that I write
I write these words
Rhythmic rhythms I'm these
Open colored rhymes a
Two too four formed
Words of encouragement
After and always
I co-collaborate with God first
infused the letters combined the words
To phrase the sentences paragraphs
it is simple-
"These the words to be heard"
After which I just "Write On"
3/26/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
When people speak of Frankenstein, they often seem quite shaken
But if that name evokes the beast, they're monstrously mistaken.
For Frankenstein does not portray the nameless weird creation
But rather Shelley's choice for his creator's appellation.
So if this Victor Frankenstein should choose to throw a party
Inviting all his scientific friends and those more arty,
He'd first provide refreshments then recite them all a story
Involving an experiment with life and all things gory.
Concluding with the statement 'To play God just isn't wise
For it is highly likely to occasion one's demise.'
31.08.21
Once a milky winged stallion,
I mistook you for an angel.
I believed your majestic prowess.
Like Zeus, I too hitched my chariot.
Once the sparkling points of night,
I mistook you for sky magic.
I believed immortal your cosmos,
your dazzling namesake array.
Then your avatar sold oil.
I watched your B movie at fumy gas pumps.
I witnessed the curse of your hydrocarbons.
I lost faith in your Earth poisoning moniker.
Then your appellation found home in the dirt.
Assigned by mercenaries feeding slithering snakes,
tracking and tracing, extracting all our privacy
for any perversion of power.
I weep now knowing how far you've fallen.
I should have known.
You were always the prodigious child of Medusa.
D-elightful
A-crostic
I-s
S-oothing
Y-ou
A-s
C-onnotation
U-ses
N-ame's
A-ppellation
Topic: Birthday of Daisy Acuña (July 10)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Let me love your imperfections
(That suggest I've chance to win.)
Makeup, jewels, fancy hairdos
Cover multitudes of sin,
Cleanliness the highest virtue
That I still aspire to reach.
All the rest need heavy lifting,
Something few men learn or teach!
Love me, though humility's not
Appellation I deserve.
Win your trust? My tombstone's shingle -
"Lonely heart - desires to serve!"
Long Tooth
May 14, 2019
The Enigmatic Feeling of Passion
By Miguel Ramos
What is passion?
The feeling of euphoria, animosity or melancholy?
Perhaps it’s hysteria, delirium or derangement?
Or going from devil’s hour to coyotes hour laboring?
Is it doing something with impetus and incentive?
Is it sacrificing sentiment to advance society?
Or being recalcitrant and following ambition?
Or will it be eternally flummoxing?
Passion, devotion, fervor or ardor, whatever appellation you give it, there’s nothing elementary about this word.
Passion is just as perplexing as the passionate.
What cherubim or spirits shall entreat
To preach the litany of thy beauty?
If rhyme and meter be the judge,
Then let my odes of bygone years
Fill dunes of sweet romanticism
With the stink of pusillanimity and nonsense.
Shall the minstrel regale thee in coquettish glee,
When springtime comes? What are his lyrics and songs
To describe the rapture of the gentle looks
That I long to hear alone.
Will spiteful maidens sob in the arms of their lovers
As you busily pass on the corner road?
What to speak of such frivolous indiscretion?
Only beauty without appellation will know.
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