Croquet Poems

Alice, did th' afternoon grow long an' dull; 
As your older sister did read an' mull? 
While in your mind, boredom grew- 
That you'd grown restless no one knew! 
That's what came before th' fall- 
An' no one saw ya...Read More

There once was a lady with a story.
She made it up for fame and glory.
Her topic, a bit risque.
A naked game of croquet.
The description was very gory....Read More

IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXXV

IF you pull a long croquet face
While picking your teeth index and thumb over molar
Canines will drip corrosive acids on knuckles and nails
E'en if you lose anonymous self in a crowded alley

If...Read More

I wonder what it was like to be Alice?
Who fell down the rabbit hole
To fall through space, and find a place
Quite different from home

To have tea with the Hatter
The Doormouse, and their friends
Finding cakes and labelled bottles
Growing and shrinking at...Read More

Summer’s seasoned lacings, all fetching,
uplift timid heartbeats with etchings.
Sunshine warmly touches me sky brushed.
Languid summer holds playtime sketching.

Touching water’s velvet soft richness,
sensuously tender in thickness,
captivates my deepest of senses.
Water must thrill summer as mistress.

Delight I hold when my garden shines
with...Read More

No refuge here
Just bitter cheer


Search now in vain
Kind words said plain


Cliques and cliches
Odd word croquet 


Islands of stress
A savvy mess


Not much for laughs
Broken mad stuff


Loss that now pokes
Sad burden yokes


Once a big tribe
Scattered once ripe


Not much to say
A wind-blown way




Leon...Read More

It seems like yesterday
It was Valentine’s Day
We met at a café
My hair in disarray
He guessed I was fair play
Capriciously I said no way
Yet saw a certain cachet
So didn’t race away

When the skies turned blue grey
Raincheck for that sundae
We both took...Read More

Laura Tonon was her name, at the new school my only true friend per se
Astonishingly she’d taken to me, offered to help with my English every day
Unwavering was her big confident smile, even taught me a bit of Italian astray
Rich,...Read More

1 2 1 2 in a tutu playing croquet at three pm

Abracadabra is a giant kilo of horse manure thrown at the head with a boom. But a boom is neither a boomerang nor a pickling gate in a jar...Read More

A bluebell hole is often representational of a pistol glove. Pistol gloves are often pointing out towards petals bit metallic oysters can spin rapidly out of a firing chamber and firing chambers are neither chatty canopies nor copied cactus chants....Read More

You cannot shift a mower with a motionless stance but a stance is not a stanza nor a stem so never put fifteen flowers, blades of grass, and a sweater together in the washing basket. And a shard a second...Read More

The nucleus of a pin cushion is akin to the internal mechanisms of a sausage. A big massive drama but don't tell Dalai Lamar and the turtle doves will sing and swing in the breeze. A damsel in distress is...Read More

A high speed race with a puff ball is very very exciting. But kissing a bead is not that good if one has allergies to plastics. Links then. Importance of clasps'. Over importance of gilded crests. And excessive amounts of...Read More

If a pink elephant rides on a green wave then the tarantula will be under great pressure. Chains are a peril. Particularly when placed upon a coconut. Technical difficulties are often solved with the clear blue lines of a fountain...Read More

Border
guard hoops
and hedgehog balls;
striking flamingos; painted-rose
walls...Read More

On
croquet lawn,
a coldhearted queen
swearing heads will come
off...Read More

Biking through Salt Lake City
Homes of well knit, croquet stature
With Oxford fountains flowing
Forcibly pin my eye
I pedal a block to see streets missing teeth
Bank signs, chipped paint and amazon lawns...Read More

I miss so many things: the old pear tree, which once lived by the walk and the bees inside. The bees almost never stung, but made the most delightful buzz. The smell of the pear blossoms and the fruit as...Read More

Tom took a day off for golf to play
His game should have been simpler croquet
Bruised head and scraped knees
His cart like swiss cheese
Wrecks on the nine, decides game's risque  

Inspired by Craig Cornish's Contest
Not an entry.....
Written: April 1, 2013...Read More

When Nature frees the lotus
   (This year's debut emergence)
      From their sleeping seeds,
   When they begin to cress the surface,

I shall stand with broadened smile,
   My heart's joy augment...Read More

’Tween hither and thither we wended our way
skipping, dancing through sand dunes, in seascape croquet.
While woven in waves watching dolphins at play
I first tasted her lips in the ocean’s wild spray.

Mystic moonbeams, suffusing clouds’ shimmering sails,
unleashed us and whisked us...Read More

ALICE  MEETS  ULYSSES


On a string up in the sky  her activity was  flying a  cat. 
She just wouldn’t say, the  lips were sealed,
Up there with ceiling wax.  She said
I don’t  reveal secrets,...Read More

Oh do you dream of England,
when Spring is in the air?
The hum of bees on gentle breeze
is all that you will hear,
except for farmers, turning hay,
in meadows far and near;
their spotted, knotted handkerchiefs
tied over thinning hair.

With grass that's green, this...Read More

 
There’s Father’s Day
There’s Mother’s Day
Why can’t there be Brother’s Day
Maybe in the month of May
Set it up without delay
A Brother’s Day
Mom and Dad would probably say
A brother always gets his way
On Brother’s Day
Where would all his sisters stay?
Why –...Read More

A game of musical chairs has just begun in earnest. A pot and kettle band arrives 
through the dining rooms’ French doors following the Valentine Queen. A putrid pink 
flamingo with a croquet ball stuck in its beak settles it’s...Read More