Who was only one inch tall,
raised in a lab since he was, well...small,
doped on phenobarbital,
escaping o'er his prison wall.
Tell me friend, can you recall
King Mouse?
Who lived in a tidy little hole,
knew when the cat was on patrol?
Though cheese and crumbs he stole,
he never lived on the dole.
Let's sing praise and extoll
King Mouse!
Who was diminutive in size,
told the truth and never lied,
had big ears but never spied,
nor squealed, just squeaked and sighed?
All expectations he defied -
King Mouse!
His body small, his soul immense,
big ears heard every offence,
and you, who wanted to dispense,
are now awash with penitence,
as you consider recompense
for King Mouse.
Who knew the secrets that we kept,
never told, just cried and wept,
before he laid on the floor and slept?
At discretion he was adept.
You struck him with the broom while you swept -
King Mouse.
The coo of a mournful mourning dove
reminds us of the guy in the sky above
who we wouldn't touch without a glove.
But now as push comes to shove,
we realize we really love
King Mouse!
My magical Chinese garden
was small:
tiny willows
pagodas
and mulberry trees
emerging serenely
from the mist
pastelwise
like Shangri-La over and over
on the far side of
an equally diminutive stream
under a parchment sky.
Slipping unnoticed over the footbridge
at the top of the stairs
I’d wait alone under the willow
overhanging the bank
ribbonfluttering silvergreen in the breeze
where their wintry silences couldn’t reach me,
hoping that maybe
I’d meet another child
like me
escaping into the garden
through the wallpaper in her house
but we moved away
unexpectedly
before that happened.
Diminutive dwarf donned a dark dapper derby
Enthusing excitable elf’s electric eel’s energy
Following frenzied faerie’s forever frills and fantasy
Garnishing gremlin and gargoyle’s grassy greenery
Holding hostage history’s hysterical hideous Henry.
He was lilliputian size
Which works for some women
Never for a man
He is rather diminutive, his blind dates are warned
Teensy-weensy would have been more accurate
His arms are the width of yard sticks
He never found love
Because he never met a faerie
I dream of journeys to contemplate
of driving alone on a lined snow-laden road
with no destination
of gliding through the wilderness on a train
its whistle a haunting sound
over bridges with deep water moving beneath
and boreal trees all around
of flying in a diminutive airplane over the ocean
with no land to observe
lost in the blue
listening to every creaking sound
of floating in a sailboat across the sea
seeking my true north in tranquility
Shaking her wet ears, uncertain
How her purpose may be best served
Stagger concealed in immersion
Shown the pasture that she deserved
Frolicking safely within a flock
Diminutive trot to the beat kept timid
Faithfully bides time, tick clock
Offer of grace to God signals her limit
Wool washed, cleansed by clan
Coddled offspring wrapped with cotton
Shepherd held title, simple plan
Dinners prepared, archaic ideals rotten
Bristling beneath her softness
Fibres frayed at what her life signifies
Dismayed to only boost profits
Loyal lamb follow is forsaken sacrifice
Fuming, she rips off her fleece
Livid lion malicious marauder dormant
Roars revenge, discards peace
Trek to reckless, divorce her informant
Taught to shelter, even in harm
Trust husband’s will, cutlet finale fate
Savage feline, leaving the farm
Sleek escapee lapping blood off plate
Sacrificial Sixteenth November
Alone!
Big Cat is trapped inside a cage.
With every passing hour, up goes its rage
Deeper is its growl,
And more menacing is its scowl
The fight is strong as it yearns to be free
Far, far away from this shameful place of captivity
Out of this place
Out from gloom and disgrace
The beast scratches and claws incessantly, but to no avail
Distant ephemeral reflections of a savanna, its sullen heart longs to bail
A king of valor relegated to a diminutive, cold space
No grasslands for play and no prey to hunt; trapped in a foreign place
Soon the cacophonous growl wanes into a feeble murmur
The beastly, commanding sound has lost its ferocious fervor
Bewildered, weary, and defeated, it starts cryin'
No place to roam and far from home, in the cage lies the lion
Darla was petite, tiny, diminutive, doll-like.
which is acceptable, even admirable for a woman.
her twin brother Dell had the same teeny tiny physique.
He was not considered a catch, never had a date.
Dell spent his life alone, but he was not lonely.
He enjoyed Darla’s family, children, and grandchildren.
Forever a favorite uncle, never a husband or a daddy.
Some thought it was a half life, but he was satisfied.
I am Nobody:
no name on my grave
in the Veterans’ Cemetery --
not even certain if all parts
match – those bombs really
had no personal objective when
targeting and dispatched –
Their bull’s eyes~ all Enemy.
I am Nobody; don’t earn
a lot, after your release from
the hospital, once healed,
you never met the EMT
who feverishly pumped life
into your failing lungs, during your
rushed, siren screaming journey
through unyielding traffic --
probably never thanked the nurse
in the ER, with a name-tag,
often gone unread – Oh, you met
the doctor, who earns all the big
bread – He has a noble title – he
has lauded fame – unlike Nobodies
more or less, diminutive
the same – just Nobody --
the Nobodies who build the bridges
repair the roads
pickup the garbage
often given little more mention
than prince-less pond toads –
when I croak, Just a slimy
soak – in society, most Nobodies
die broke – soggy, irrelevant
pond splashes –
Only rich when considering love...
I’m sat in the bar with a beer on the table
I’m gazing in rapt contemplation
I need to make sense of it if I am able
I must find a good explanation
My mate’s in the loo, so what am I to do
For there’s nobody here to bear witness
The bartender’s too busy serving a queue
And everyone minds their own business
Did nobody here see my icy cold beer
Grow hands and feet and a big head
It has seven eyes and a devilish sneer
“I dare you to drink me,” it said
It glared up at me with its mad bloodshot eyes
And then did a demonic dance
This amber hued beast of diminutive size
Is what put me into this trance
My God, now there’s two of them, clinking together
They no longer dance… but conspire
Each of them steps a bit closer to me
“Don’t tell or they’ll call you a liar.”
At last my mates coming and soon he’ll be here
He’ll flip at this hullabaloo
But now that beer monster is just plain old beer
I can’t even prove it to you
So I must now seek out a good explanation
Some facts into which I shall delve
Such as why it should happen to just this one beer…
and not to the previous twelve
She is one for the ages,
She graced a many a stage.
She is a Mother, She is a Saint
She is immortal, a miracle without restraint.
She draped herself in six yards of blue & white.
She gave her all, pulled all her might.
She said, these are the people of God,
She led towards upliftment, salvation, with her squad.
She roamed the street no one ventured,
She tamed the demons without any indenture.
She served among the poorest of poor,
She was the rarest of rare.
She knew no boundaries, borders didn’t restrict her,
She preached people before politics, others before self, in her edifier.
She with her diminutive figure, dulcet voice,
She with her passion & will, made the right noise.
She left this World a better place,
She left her indelible mark with grace.
She will be revered on Earth till existence.
She is immortal san question.
A subtle whisper into my mother’s ear
by my 15-year-old brother Lawrence Dean
and she proclaimed me Jerry Wayne Brotherton
the prettiest baby boy she’d ever seen
Okay, okay, I hear what you are saying
I might have stretched the truth just a little bit
But in my mind, that’s exactly what she said
and it’s my story so I’m sticking to it
Jerry is old English in origin and
diminutive of Gerald (The ruling spear)
In 1941 the name reached its height
but then slowly it started to disappear
Sadly, the name grew less and less popular
until it very nearly became extinct
Unfortunate that I was born sixteen years
after this great name had climbed up to its peak
Alas that set the very tone for my life
whenever it comes to money, fame, or sport
the never-ending motto that will begin
to describe my fate “day late and a dollar short”
I have seen the peaks
Majestic mountains
Flaunting themselves
Before a diminutive sun
Watched a shadow
Snare the radiance of light
Stood before a Cathedral
Surrounded by truth’s beggars
Touched the hand of an infant
Reaching out in wonder
Felt the sting
Of doubt’s lash
The soothing balm
Of hope
Listened to the murmurings
Of monotony’s metaphor
Heard the herald
Of the hounds
The baying
Of baleful bastards
I have caressed
A soulless sunrise
Bedded down
A morose moon
Argued
With the stars
In the emptiness
Of a moment
With a spurn of yellow and a shout –
A lone Mexican poppy
Aside the mountain path
Caught my meandering eye.
How diminutive was its stem
And so few were its petals –
Nevertheless – smart with poison –
As it stood there – tranquil.
For one who’s loud in color –
I warned the little poppy –
It’s not good to be popular
For you can be plucked easily.
decorated decoy Delaware defined
deep-sixed, deemphasized, double design
daring dubious decorum delightful definitive
dashing, dazzling, diddling diminutive
demolished, derogatory doll-like, defy
decayed, decomposed, decolorized, dubious decry
decoded, decrypted, deepened delegate
decolorized, décor, defined duly designate
discontinued, delighted Des Moines detective
declaring Delaware dappled, doggedly defective
dashing daydreaming decoy declaring delude
damaging, destructive, dizzy, debatable deluge
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