Replication, O photon.
Atmosphere. Molecules.
Phase, like seasons. Here, then gone.
Tools, tremors, toadstools.
Occipital ridge, troll, bridge.
Billy goat, thy horn.
Pestilence, thy name is midge.
Freighter, fain, forlorn.
Lightning bolt, fruit of the gods.
Eat one and become.
Mycelial, goldenrod?
Mushroom, just stay mum.
Sign of salvation, sea-bass?
Shark, set eyes on same.
Liquid legend, O my lass?
Sure. I'm glad you came.
Tympani, crush. Firefly, flee.
Knock thrice, then flit, thrush.
O behemoth, swim thy sea?
Death, you've had a brush.
Enormous or gigantic?
Titan, which to choose?
Oil on surface, stiff or slick?
Flickering fate, fast fuse.
Race, a trace of turkey wild.
In the corn, my child.
Charnel house floor, stains a-tiled?
Ululate, red riled.
Racket, informed packet?
Data, grow in trees.
Weather, wail. Jail, jacket.
Pain, poisonous to please.
Rumpelstiltskin again dominating
Another illusory speed dating.
Above fairies' swoon
Round dollar-hued moon,
Phoenix and dragon loudly berating.
Bumble bees found buzzing round pink flowers,
Spellbound by their sway and fragrant powers.
Rapunzel in fear
While bees steer and cheer,
Working on spelling bee all through small hours.
By fountain, Billy Goat Gruff met a bee
Among the flowers sipping nectar sprit.
They, friends forever,
Fellows so clever.
Carefree, foolish, mischievous, and beastly.
aristocratic antelope alarms and annoys
blue-eyed baboon’s billy goat buster
causing confusion, consternation and crying
distressing and disturbing deliberate donkey
egg-producing egret elevates enthusiasm
forever frolicking in farmer fred’s pastures
giddy goats gallop in garnished with garlands
happy horse henry hypnotizes henrietta’s hens
intense iguana ignores idiocy of inmates
jackals justify jack rabbits jelly-like jeers
kangaroo keenly kicks off kingly kibitz
luxurious llamas lollygag in the lounge
mischievous monkeys march among marshes
nervous newts nibble on nutty Nutella
obnoxious oxen opts out of outrageous opportunities
preening peacock praises his pompous president
quivering quail questions quaking quasar
rustic rooster ruffles robin’s restlessness
sassy songbirds swizzle and sway toward sand beach
talkative turtle trains tarantula to twist and turn
understudy Ulysses utilizes universal unitedness
validating vocabulary of vicious vultures
wandering weasel wants to find his wishes
‘xacting ‘xtra ‘xhibitions ‘xperiment on eagle’s nest
yellow yak yawns next to yipping young wolf dog
zealous zebra zips into view of aristocratic antelope
There is an old goat named Billy
who finds the altitude chilly
and with insufficient grippage
to prevent downhill slippage
may fall off the mountain but will he?
"Born William Henry McCarty, Jr. AKA, Billy the Kid or El Chivito, (Billy Goat/Kid). He had a younger brother named Joseph, and they both had an older sister named Bridget McCarty. Not much is known about the family other than the widow Catherine raised her son Billy before dying of tuberculosis. Also, him and his younger brother Joseph were arrested for an infraction (charged with stealing, that they claimed were items of necessity)," [A fictional parody] ... by Poet.
Famed Billy the Kid had a sister,
She dated his rival, who kissed her,
When asked if it's true,
Says what's it to you,
He took out his gun, shot, and missed her.
Now Billy the Kid's reputation,
Sees at risk without hesitation,
Hand still holds a gun,
Aimed own head shoots one,
Then, cried out in humiliation.
Sissy saw and ran off with her mouth,
Everybody in town heard her out,
With Billy, cash rolled,
Without him, no gold,
Town thought it best to put her lights out.
The Kid grabbed some dirt and had it thrown,
Fell on her coffin o'er a blank stone,
You folks ... you're to blame,
Her stone has no name,
We named the town after her, "Tombstone?"
Do Not Hold Your Tongue
8/14/2023
How oft’ have you been told, to not
rock the boat!
Just go along as an obedient, mute
billy goat.
Just chew on the green, fresh, cud,
Or smile always , be it in rain or in
thick mud.
This may be peachy keen for goats
you see.
But we are special, we are humanity.
When our brothers freedom and rights
are being stolen.
We must stand as one, for tis the God of
the Universe to which we are beholden!
Humankind
8/9/2023
How oft’ have you been told, to not
rock the boat!
Just go along as an obedient, mute
billy goat.
Just chew on the green, fresh, cud,
Or smile always , be it in rain or in
thick mud.
This may be peachy keen for goats
you see.
But we are special, we are humanity.
When our brothers freedom and rights
are being stolen.
We must stand as one, for tis the God of
the Universe to which we are beholden!
Men in my life have had a razor sharp edge
Got me feeling' like I'm on the edge of a mountain
And there is an old billy goat up there with me
And I can see the sky as a vision of the future
So soapy, sudsy blue
And I can see that brick home with cut out hearts of the white wood porch
Yeah, me thinking of you Capricorn us
Another one gave me his razor to use a d since then I've had the blues
Talk about a razor sharp edge in and out of the bed
Things very much cleared up
In the slushy bog, lived one speckled frog
He loved to have fun and didn’t wish to slog
Croaky Frog was his dear name
To travel and enjoy life was his aim
One day he set out, wearing his hat
On the way he met a furry rat
He asked- “Hey rat, will you come with me
Lovely scenes are there for us to see”
The rat replied- “Yes, I shall come with you
I too like the beautiful sights to view”
Soon they saw a tabby cat on their way
Rat ran in fear and hid behind some hay
Croaky, instantly jumped into a well
Seeing a snake in, he began to yell
“Save me, save me” cried the desperate frog
The evening was veiled with thick fog
Billy goat and friends were grazing around
They heard from the well a desperate sound
In minutes, they arrived and saved the frog
Thanking his friends, the frog fled to his bog
Feb.28. 2023
~ Placed First~
Nursery Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Eve Roper
Rocky
Rock is not a racehorse,
he is a tiny Billy goat.
He thinks he is much larger
than he really is.
One day,
he will be all that he believes
he already is.
That will be a good day,
for Rocky.
Rocky is the color black
with very long hair.
It is soft and squishy to the touch.
He had horns on his head,
but they were removed.
Now he likes scratches there,
and cries sometimes.
Rocky is still a baby yet.
He is on the baby bottle.
Three times a day,
I am on my way,
to make sure his belly stays full.
Rocky will eat hay and oats,
and tin can boats when he is older...
but not today, no way.
Then...
Lucy came to live with us.
She is a goat-like Rocky.
She is brown like caramel,
and round like the sun.
It mirrors her disposition.
She is happy and sweet,
and Rocky loves...
to smell her feet.
Life is getting busy here,
on the Iris Acres.
It is a place,
to be quiet,
and watch the flowers grow.
I powerfully doubt,
If you wont be soon out:
At this decided pace,
The lion humble in a race;
(Unless you court a banned steroid
That the living enables to act Humanoid
For , indeed, l’ve seen you gallop
But at a speed for your sure wallop
Your morale above fifty percent,
Still a far cry from lion’s ninety nine percent!
Many things now wasting your gains,
Your naivety helping the pains.
Then, comes the bundle between your thigh:
Your ever spinning scrotum deaf to “why?”
Ceaselessly, The Oscillatory,
In smell cheap to every Olfactory:
A Never–To–Retire Sex Tool
That steadily makes you a fool,
Certain now via the lion’s Paws
To catapult you to death’s jaws…
More chances oblige you to sorrow.
Than ones of grazing tomorrow.
hey, everybody, this is old Billy Bob, here
over there in them cute Billy Jeans
well, I just woke up this morning
and looked up towards the sky blue mirror
meanwhile, down the road,
I see an image of old gray-haired Billy goat
just chewing on some maple oats and hay
looked like he was chewing on some cherry tobacco
I got a little bit closer for inspection and
watch Mr. goat spite some cherry tobacco in a tin can
and right about then, I was kicked in the rear end
while some people would say - I was kicked in the tailpipe.
Unfortunately, I was kicked by some crazy jackass
down yonder, from tupelo, county, Mississippi
you know what
I should've never looked
at myself in that damn
crazy ass sky mirror this morning
you know what - chicken butt
hey, I just got hog tied up again
Dag Nabit...shucks!
give everybody a big hug
thank you...very much!
A jackdaw spit in my face today.
Saliva traveled six miles away.
I grabbed him by his ridiculous throat.
Offered him as lunch to my billy goat.
That jackdaw kicked me and laughed in my face.
Believe it or not he got me with mace.
When he got home my man asked what I’d done.
All of the bullets were gone from his gun.
Bullet holes all over house and the barn.
Jackdaw escaped. Who could make up this yarn?
I have to go. The bird is back with an evil sashay.
I am running as fast as I can, trying to get away.
Stones
A stone will play inside my brain
to help capture a New York mile;
roll up those sleeves
treasure among the pier
Billy toast the mall
shadows nestled above the snow
Bury me below the shore breeze
make room from the outer banks
it maybe a good day
but its room the chosen mouth
light up a lucky
Gordy Howe playing hockey
make room for a lot to see
stones will begin to crumble
be outside my porch window
love has gained
it also has lost
Billy Goat Gruff
cherish those given moments
starts off as a pebble then suddenly a stone
covered the case of a disco
Chariots of fire
I’m Cindy Mae, come walk today
among my village of snow-people and play
with my Billy goat, Fagan and I;
just outside of the red barn, it lies.
I built it with my own two hands,
with smiles, cold fingers, I now stand,
among snow-babies, pure and white;
I must name them all, before the fall of night.
Oh Fagan, Fagan, what shall we call them?
They’re all so very cute and prim.
I’ll name one Billy, one Fagan, after you;
another after my new baby sister, Sue.
As these snow-stars continue to fall,
it makes me think of cotton balls;
I’ll name one Cotton, one Q-tip,
those two, I will name Chip and Skip.
Oh Fagan, aren’t they wonderful?
This day, I have just had a ball.
Now there’s two more that need a name;
I know, I’ll call them, John and James.
Those are my cousins who’ve never seen snow;
they reside in California, in Garden Grove.
Fagan I’ve worked up an appetite,
and Mom’s making warm stew tonight!
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