A man, quite renowned, came into our town;
He tried to expound on matters profound.
He frowned when he found as he tried to expound:
drowned by the sound of a hound in the town.
This was indeed a hound most renowned!
The sound from this hound, when on a rebound,
knocks a man down in a mound on the ground.
He looked all 'round: northbound, southbound, eastbound, westbound.
Nowhere he looked could that loud sound be found:
the fairground, the playground, the foreground, the background.
Finally he found himself down at the pound.
A foxhound, a coonhound, a bloodhound, a greyhound:
all of these hounds could be found at the pound,
but none of the hounds made that kind of sound.
A boy came around and said while he frowned,
his puppy was wound up, would not settle down.
"Your little dog too! Ha, ha," he clowned.
A little chihuahua made all of that sound?
Well, he dropped his jaw when he heard the chihuahua.
Now, he expounds on this hound most renowned.
----------
For the Nursery Rhyme 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Written on 04/14/2022
Categories:
coonhound, children, nursery rhyme,
Form: Rhyme
Weasel was wiser than a coonhound
She weighed one pound, a foxhound
Traveled the campground and playground
Searched the fairground and all around
A sleuthhound, she would turnaround
Looking earthbound for something profound
On the rebound, her heart would confound
In the foreground was her hunting ground
She would often bum around and mess around
Searching the battleground for common ground
Renowned for her wisdom, though uncrowned
She took a ultrasound so she could stick around
Even going underground in the burial mound
Riding the merry-go-round so she could hang around
Nursery Rhyme 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
April 14, 2022
Categories:
coonhound, child, childhood, children, nursery
Form: Rhyme
Crumbled listlessly in the old porch rocker
Smoking a cigarette, cursing the shadows
His flaming orange tip lights
A world of carcinogens as he
Doubles over coughing, spitting up blood.
A life of moonshine
Stealing and pilfering
Numerous women and unknown children
A few honest days of working in coal mines
Have left their malignant imprints.
The coonhound bays at the moonlit sky
Ensnared by brambles
Near the rotted porch where his
Master fights to recover and reach for
Another non-filtered cigarette.
Sultry air, no chance of rain,
Nonstop sound of cicadas,
Lyrics for a song of
Southern summer heat
Invading and debilitating the senses.
Categories:
coonhound, death, sad, time,
Form: Free verse