Wiggles struts casually her leash.
People react well to this four-legged creature.
Passersby can't help but smile.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
A bee went to collect nectar; to take back to the hive..
he went back there with nothing, they didn't let him back inside,
They sent him back to work again, to have another try,
because the nectar is so precious! It makes the hunny for the hive!
The pebble collector find pebbles, by creating Ripples.
Three words so powerful that it sends us over the rainbow, I love you, can inspire our world.
Like the feeling of sweet ice cream, we love the words, I love you.
They make everything better, the words, I love you.
Like the smell of our favorite food can make us drool, I love you, makes us have an appetite for more.
Some grew up with no, I love you, and now seek them like a new pair of shoes, collecting them in all kinds of different pairs.
Making them have a closet full of I love you to wear, if they feel down and need a new pair.
Collecting, I love you’s is like a collector, filling his cabinet with many trophies to show off.
I love you, is true, and sometimes blue, because we can get lost with so many loves on our mind can make us get lost in thought.
Leaving us to have no time to move ahead in other areas of our life.
Let’s be mindful not to be greedy, and only hold what is needed, like being a gardener that prunes the trees and gives to others what is not needed.
Loves thank you for your time, and reading my rhyme.
Lifting prayer to God, may we make our way home to heaven above.
A collector of wisdom is he
finds it in all he can see
From vagabonds to royalty
Charlie Chaplin to Grace Kelly
in trailer parks and gated communities
He stops, senses, hearkens, reviews
always learns a thing or two
He is wise who learns from all men
~ what goes around comes back again
collector
snippets of paper....
memories stored
Collecting all manner of things,
From battered old derbies to rings,
He still couldn’t find,
It stayed on his mind,
A three-legged scarecrow that sings.
Hanging on the parlor wall,
over paper the color of leaves in fall,
is a magnificent painting.
Full of hopes and dreams,
and all those things,
full of life and love and color.
It is masterfully done
(and "masterfully" hung).
From my plush chair, I admire it.
Tilting my head from side to side,
and closing one eye,
examining the brush strokes.
It is unique in every way.
The best I’ve seen this day,
but there is one thing I can’t ignore.
One thing that should never be said,
a haunting group of words that bring dread.
“It is... off center.”
Many stories have been lived just by opening a book
Brush off your ant bites.
Blind eye the hornets sting.
Gone so long with ways of violence.
Creatures having done nothing wrong.
But it’s fine “they aren’t important”.
Legs or wings or hair you just can’t bare.
Squash and flush because no voice.
If it spoke would you still fear?
Darling child with bugs in jars,
May your care linger on and on my dear.
I am a collector of many things -not worth a hill of beans
That smile,
That smile could put the sun to shame
Those eyes are brighter than amber, even when in shade
Those words could mend a broken soul
That laugh could bring to life, a dying hope
For I fell in love with a work of art
That watch collector that stole my heart
Pens, and pen knives,
minor gadgets and gizmos,
chopsticks
old zippo lighters,
motheaten books
that crumble an old-fashioned wisdom
into the mush of a quaint twaddle,
words to muddle over
on a day locked into a raincloud.
He collected all sorts -
mostly useless things,
mostly the unimportant, the worthless,
gathering together
all the small curiosities of the bygone,
things often broken and long discarded.
His poetry is a collection also,
a jumble of oddments and offbeat widgets,
stuff he finds hazily dreaming
beside unpaved roads.
time moves as blower
flowing memories through life
souvenir collector
charles james collects red ants
despite neighbors angry rants
it is time you quit
even as you sit
hundreds gather in your pants.
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