For Natasha, written: 08-23-2026
steamed, beheaded jumbo shrimp
deveined awful good
size clearly misunderstood
freeze burn soon seen
off tasting, dunked in
cocktail sauce
yum!
Constance La France's The Pensive Poet's Contest
Reminiscences are yet revived by the glory
of Now mirroring slivers of past traces' ~ by poet
This thinning pen lays on a shed
of damp grasses where there are
no flowers to daringly explore---
A gasping star wanes
into the ash of light;
emptiness raking its only shape -
neutral as dunked rays greying the skyline.
Dreary as a poet's last whimper,
unfinished phrases gather
to rest... anticipating
drooped wake of winter petals,
as blots of ink
trace the calligraphy of langour,
the shadow play from past revelries
and adult slow- burn despair : how pensive
sighs offer their chánts
to a rising moon--- and buds of waving lime,
of the sky cascading
all the hums of vintage music evanesce ,
soft sheen of paper crumpling thoughts
so darn mellow , gathering on thé barks
of yesteryears where pages
of innocence and grief múst now
be rendered to memorials' grave...
This thinning pen lays
on a shed of damp grasses
where there are no flower
to daringly explore---
A gasping star wanes
into the ash of light;
emptiness becomes
its only environ neutral a the dunked rays
greying the skyline.
Dreary as a poet's last whimper,
unfinished phrases gather to rest
and in the edge of night, the world
grows still as dying petals .
Paper.
The howl of the last person to put their pencils in their pencil box.
In this truth, I experience.
Paper within paper.
You could boil it.
And boil everything gone.
And eat the leftover mashed paper.
I have several sparkly pens.
They are just so nice.
If I could write for a few hours at a time…
I would turn off the stove and order take out.
Splashing around in the words.
Laugh and turn the paper into a crumpled ball.
I don’t think anyone really does these things.
The weariness, the scribbles.
Paper strains all water, if it gets dunked in.
I miss my sister.
She likes things like magazines, and books.
And me.
I’m a paper mache girl!
Wild, and made of scraps.
Looks real, so real.
All that paper can be.
I have a penchant for your kiss,
I kind of dig that hidden smile;
Look in my eyes there’s no typo;
Each moment I don’t want to miss,
Baby please let me stay awhile;
It’s so warm I want to go slow;
On whispered words I reminisce,
caught up in your gentleman’s style;
A drawl dripping with southern flow;
My heart hangs on a precipice
fearing I’m headed to exile;
Picante is charged with mellow;
Affinity for pure jesters,
dunked by desire that sequesters.
love is a biscuit –
spread with jam or dunked in tea
according to mood//
love is a hairnet
catches stray strands to hold them
gently, and softly//
love is a mirror
reflected affinity
in each other’s eyes//
love is a window;
look inside; you see your soul –
look out, see the world//
love is an apple
make apple pies or cider –
it’s your decision//
love is an orange;
squeeze out the last single drop
then make candied peel//
love’s a banana –
yellow outside, white inside
feisty yet tender//
love’s a bicycle
two wheels moving in tandem
like kindred spirits//
love’s a tangerine –
easy-peel, many segments
fragrant smell lingers//
Fred had a huge sore appear on his head
Feeling itchy, he scratched until it bled
He risked looking like a fool
And dunked his head in the pool
Then gasped at the huge tick floating he shed
Mom said there's no time for a swim!
For sure, I was upset and grim.
The day was so hot-
Time for a quick shot!
Dunked my brainy head on a whim!
#1 Topless Mermaid
Big bully who teased younger Guy
Said, "dude, go give it a try!
A mermaid, No shells,
at the bottom,!” he yells…
… and boy, he ran head first to dive!
#2. Literal Lot
Literal Lot, temper so hot,
Symbolic speech understands not.
Then, when someone said,
“Man, you have a hot head!”
he dunked in the pool like a shot!
#3. Swim At Your Own Risk
Swimming in pool was Lou- Lou,
In distress yelled, ”MA! Gotta poo !”
Momma was too late.
So the cowboy, Nate,
stuck in head n'said, “Howdy-DOO!”
#4.Boy Wizard Disappears!
Boy wizard with magical wand,
could open the doors to beyond!
in the pool one day,
dropped it with dismay,
One second there, n'then he was gone!
Gushing garish grin greets God’s playhouse
Enthusiastic thrust roars cacophony chorus
Onyx walls leer clown mouth, splash pounce
Mountain morose bellows waterfall raucous
Forceful pools swirl, gentle raptor glide
Cyclonic claws tug a dunked daredevil
Pop up toast, poured tea tropical slide
Drop dagger deluge, strange fish swivel
Trapped in green marble pummel frigid
Tap of gurgling bubbles bores odsidian
Eye to eye with cruel cassowary, my inquiry
Why chase your young away, are you afraid?
Aghast grips his cobalt throat, furnace fiery
Answer slips from stone, thrown to cascade
4th July
Forceful Judge
The world is full of broken biscuit people
Julie got pregnant on a whim
She said they used the withdrawal method
He withdrew in London while she was still in Manchester
It would bring them closer together, she said
So he moved to America to prove this theory
She decided he would be back when the whim was three
Where there's a whim, there's a way
Broken biscuit people are philosophical
It’s in their DNA
He’s coming back
Ten years gone he’s still coming back
Julie sat down with a cup of tea and her favourite digestives
The biscuit always tasted better when she dunked it into her tea
But the biscuit broke, and her life unravelled before her
He was never coming back
The words finally hit home
The world is full of broken biscuit people
Broken biscuit people.
King wanted tigers, but he did not want them yellow
He was an incredibly self-absorbed, picky little fellow.
I want my tigers to be turquoise, he said, lead them to the paint.
They got tipped and dunked, and a few of them did faint.
The baby tigers did better than the older ones, so those he kept.
He moved all the adult tigers out while their offspring slept.
The babies were annoyed when they discovered their parents gone.
They got rid of the king and his throne and readily moved on.
Soft cookies
Dunked in creamy tea
Such a treat for me
Such a guilty pleasure.
The blood in my veins,
Long past smoldering, begins to scorch---
Beneath the skin
Purple agony erupts again,
Ignited by the shimmer of your eyes---
My breath is gone,
Excluded by my swollen tongue---
My nose feels like a potato
Overcooked,
Or dunked in hellish alien wines---
Impossible concentration---
How long will you stretch the agony---
My skin is near the breaking point,
Flame broiled beneath your gaze
Please release me,
Let me go
DUNKED
I feel like a badly dunked and broken biscuit
Sweet icebergs floating in a warm cup of tea
What was to have been a favourite texture
Now a mudslide with soft submerged blobs
Abandoned now as the drinker walks away
Is this how people always are at the end
As hopes for something good are dashed
Beyond any recovery, left to sink unseen
Discarded, bereft of earlier anticipation
Despite all good intentions, now failed
However solid things were at the start
A confection constructed for a soft bite
Now just a sludge with no pretensions
Not having made it to teeth or tongue
That missed taste opportunity now lost
But the other half still between the fingers
Perhaps a chance for some redemption
Not risking a further failed attempt
But a crisp bite is now just acceptable
And avoidance with a careful sip of tea
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