My feet are stuck in the muck, cried Chuck the duck.
Sean the swan came to his rescue across the lawn,
Chuck, grab my wing, and we’ll swing into the spring!
Chuck used his beak, as chic feathers tickled his cheek,
They flew out of the muck, we’re now unstuck, Sean clucked.
Chuck felt happy, Sean felt scrappy as they fished for crappie.
Chuck felt struck with luck as he caught one, but it stuck,
Sean the swan, brave and brawn, caught the prawn.
Now a pack, enjoyed their snack, as they happily clacked!
Categories:
clacked, friendship, fun, nursery rhyme,
Form: Alliteration
.
they beat the drum
clacked on rock
clicked their tongues
clapped hands
goading me on
for mine gyrate
with
the king's
feminine
flock
Categories:
clacked, adventure, africa,
Form: Free verse
He saw it in one of those chintzy antique shops,
recalled that it was made for travelling musicians
that wanted to work out scores while not being overheard.
It was old and all wood. When he tapped the keys
they clacked, but each key seemed to clack
in a slightly different tone,
as if the former pianist’s thoughts and intentions
had somehow imprinted
a musical counterpart into the inarticulate wood.
When he got it home
he took it up and placed it on a table,
stretched stiff fingers and played.
He played like he had never played before!
This was real, not an air-guitar thing.
Chopin and Mozart melodies flowed through his hands
as he sped through deft keyboard exercises,
annotating quarter and eighth notes,
executing perfect tonality and phrase.
Tomorrow he intends to jazz-duet with Oscar Peterson.
'Man, it feels good to be dumb', he thought.
Categories:
clacked, poetry,
Form: Free verse
I was thirteen the first time I pinned my eyes on her
She smelled of Italy, with peppermint breath that clung sweet
each time she kissed me affectionately with love-caress
She told stories of Sir Lancelot and knights of the round table.
Some days her big brown eyes shone with happiness and other
days, when Bobby Solo played his golden trumpet, she would
cry for memory of her long lost love. Knitting needles clacked
as she softly spoke of her blessed mother.
"She once read a romance entitled, Vienna And Paris.
Mother fell in love with the story and decided if she had kids
she'd name them after those two lovers. "
I was fifteen when she returned to Italy to lay next to grandpa.
All I have left is an old super 8 film, and a chapter of my life with
her that I could never replace or ignore. Her wise antidotes got
me through a lifetime. What we share in common is our first
names and so much more. Thank you for reading.
March 1, 2019
Categories:
clacked, inspirational love,
Form: Free verse
Seeking sight of another’s like for what thine own eyes like,
Perchance a Starbuck drink ye’ drunk, or a sun dunked up a hike.
For whom the post has pretended to be presented,
I surely no longer know,
Perhaps for a spirit we’ve seem to’ve invented,
Who exists only in lists of those it follows.
The afterlife has come before us as an image upon a screen,
Which we recount the life we think is ours as other’s should’ve have seen.
We live there now, you’ll not be right back,
For acronyms are now our daily diction,
Rather than quick click-clacked lip smack,
Once meant for nonce instant self-depiction.
Welcome to the internet, which now the young claim to be Earth:
A tesseract whose fourth dimension is where they live from birth.
5/16/18
Categories:
clacked, age, allegory, internet, life,
Form: Rhyme
When home computers made their way
Into our homes, things changed
And desks in dens or bedrooms
Were cleared off and rearranged.
The typewriter was certainly
The first thing taken out,
Tossed or shelved inside a closet
By all those but the devout.
Yet those true aficionados
Through these years have clacked away,
Knowing all those Smith-Coronas
Would be cool again some day.
A resurgence is occurring
With a slowly building hype
That it’s awesome, boss and groovy
On a typewriter to type.
There’s a reason we should cherish
Retro items from the past
For their coolness factor often has
Most modern things outclassed.
Categories:
clacked, appreciation,
Form: Rhyme
I paused for a moment,
clacked against the keys
my fingers moved so fast
almost like a breeze.
The way I seen them move,
I have never seen before
but I could not stop myself
and started typing even more.
The words painted my screen,
if they were only an illussion
my thoughts were everywhere
and so was my confusion.
This typing madness,
it blew my mind
and now that it's over
I can finally unwind.
Categories:
clacked, anger, change, confusion, crazy,
Form: Rhyme
The Fall of the Onomatopoeian Empire
By Elton Camp
Onomatopoeia is a literary device
Appeal to the senses is quite nice
The comics often show us how
By using biff and bang and pow
The telephone loudly does ring
The cash register goes ca-ching
Mary’s heels clacked on the floor
Cook clanged the pans some more
The castle’s defenders were unarmed
Onomatopoeia no attacker alarmed
Behind the ramparts they did hide
Pow, boom and bang they cried
It was promptly overrun anyway
Despite scary words they did say
The conquest that was being sought
Easy, as weapons they had naught
Categories:
clacked, humor,
Form: Rhyme
To crouch beside him in the rows,
Counting seeds beneath rainbows.
Three in each hole, I’d count with glows.
He let me help; his garden grows.
To sell the pears he grew and picked.
Red wagon wheels click-click, clacked, clicked.
One penny each, the price was strict.
The neighbor kids their fingers licked.
To shave his beard while on the couch,
To hear his words; those never grouch,
And tales of ghosts for whom he’d vouch.
Yes, all of this without one ouch.
To sit beside him while he sleeps
In quiet stillness without child peeps,
Until, alas, his scare would creep.
Awake he snored; was not asleep.
Or hear the tales of where he’d been
His work on waters with boatmen,
Three busy tugboats from docks to glen.
Granddad, my hero, way back when.
To hear his laughter once again,
Reliving days that were back then.
Alas, his death brought my chagrin.
I live to hug him once again.
Copyright January 14, 2013
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
(Forever Families, God taught the way
Grow pure love of Christ everyday.
That’s what the L.D.S. people say.
I live my life to hug granddad someday.)
Categories:
clacked, childhood, family, feelings, fun,
Form: Rhyme
Sleepily the night's rain and morning fog
Click-clacked upon leaf covered ground from the eaves
Coating things even roosters' monologue
Saturating it heavily so tight like basket weave
One rooster sounds like has laryngitis
Maybe he's young one who just got his crow
Watch out you old roosters he might steal a kiss
And some hens from the hen house through hedge row
Fog rises over creek up sloping hill
Settles into the cracks and crevices
My joints, muscles, and heart giving a chill
Could be depressing but there are devices
Like trying to figure what sounds are played
In nature this wet morn, like dove or wren
Then the sound of something that's human made
Breaks the symphony of sounds that's been
Duty calls quietly need to change to daily chores
Life draws from me my time out on the porch
Categories:
clacked, funny, introspection, life,
Form: Rhyme