Of all the animals I could be,
which one would fill me with glee?
No fur here with a flea,
maybe smooth skin is the key.
I would love to see,
the great big blue sea.
Cool pretty water I would love to feel,
it makes me want to real.
With friends I can play and squeal,
as a fish we will steal.
I feel like a big wheel,
even through I am just a cute little seal.
If I was a little flea
I’d come and bite you on your knee
Just your blood I’d come to savour
Because you have a special flavour
In fact I think you’d taste so nice
I would come and bite you twice
It would be my great delight
To come and bite you every night
It would be my special wish
To have you as my gourmet dish
Instead of the dog or cockatoo
I have chosen to feast on you
So spare a thought for that little flea
Who wants to bite your tasty knee.
Rutted twittens, ivy shadowed
flecked with fuchsia blooms
as spring nods gaily
to wake dozy summer
and clattering of feet
on the sparse cobbles
that meander in quaintness
toward sprawling flea markets
where bustle and laughter
of children, echo, larkish
amid the ruddy traders
who grin and joke
behind their wobbly trestles
draped in gingham cloth
that sport a shambles
of vibrant, ancient treasures.
My neurological needs spread like a flea, sapping my strength, sucking my blood like a relentless disease.
Creating chaos, disorder this man has no order where which his life goes.
God only knows my hope's a fragile border that turns barren and cold.
Where once was order, now shadows arise.
As harmony fades and the light slowly drains where no life remains.
I had to ground myself from stopping
in front of huge flea market for shopping
garage sales used to take all my cash too
might need this I’d say, lifting up a left shoe
Mate was nowhere in sight, maybe lost in a loo?
Any chance you know what happened to the right?
The vendor laughed, and promptly ducked out of sight
This broken mirror only needs a little bit of glue
Let’s go to some thrift stores, suggested my Uncle Lou.
We don’t need cash after bills are paid, said his wife, Sue.
Upon the tide-line’s shifting stage,
With one grand claw held high and wide,
He struts as if to turn the page,
A fiddler bold, consumed by pride.
He taps a rhythm on the shells,
A percussive, clicking, frantic beat,
While whispering of secret wells
Beneath the sand beneath her feet.
She skitters past, a restless sprite,
A speck of shadow on the shore,
Too quick to yield to such a sight—
He only dances all the more.
The moon-drawn waves begin to creep,
The salt-mist veils the final light;
He vows his lonely watch to keep
And fiddles to the coming night.
I speak from the ear of a mangy dog,
in the shadows, through the fog,
But, does Fido ever obey?
He doesn't heed a word I say
of my unending monologue.
Perhaps, he has gone deaf, I fear,
and he cannot even hear,
for he doesn't fetch or sit,
or follow commands one bit
as the day piles on week on year.
I don't know that I'll ever be free
from profound feelings of futility,
and I don't know how this will end.
They say dogs are man's best friend,
but never was it true for a flea.
an old limerick...
A flea and a fly in a flue
were imprisoned so what should they do
said the flea let us fly
said the fly let us flee
so they fled through the flaw in in flue
//author unknown to me//
The firefly said to the tiny flea
‘What good you do I cannot see
You lose your way in a plush rug or carpet’
The flea said, ‘Perhaps… Maybe ~
Come. I shall sell you in my market’
I hate it when a flea
takes a liking to me
and keeps darting in front of my eyes.
I try swatting it away,
but she thinks it's play,
and so keeps it up - till she dies.
Trump has been trumped
Kamala is riding high
She’s a wordsmith with a brain
And grumpy Trumpy’s word shy
She’s younger and full of vitality
He’s lost the ear of the crowd
While thinking he’d win easily
He’s now course and very loud
Spitting words of venom
Accusing her of dastardly doings
Kamala is the chosen one
His election bid in ruins
Xi, Putin and ping pong Korea
Were rubbing their hands with glee
But Trump has lost his poison
And has the sting of a dying flea
Evil always succumbs to good
And the wrong are never right
Trump’s no Robin Hood
I hope America sees the light.
David Cox 24/07/24
My doubts are grave can I write verse?
That will withstand test of endless time
Hesitant my thoughts scan universe
Will pen craft free verse or maybe rhyme?
Often departed poets cross my mind
Poe with his Raven and Donne with his flea
In Literature cannon, they are enshrined
Myself I feel they were written for me.
To those giddy heights, I do not aspire
But find consolation when writing rhyme
Maybe no one will read and then admire
Alright by me for I am lost to time.
Where did you get a stuffed albino squirrel?
I say this after giving it a tug and a whirl.
After oohing and ahhing over it, we all yell
And I mean down deep from the bowls of hell…
“Jambers!” loud and proud simultaneously.
We have all been there since our mothers’ knee.
Jambers is the most notorious flea shop in New York.
We spend money there fast enough to stuff porky pork.
Once I found a full-grown suit of armor I had to have.
I rented a truck and brought it to my house along with a calve.
The calve would have been a calf, but it had lost a leg.
I also brought home Blackbeard with a leg that was a peg.
If it is not to be found at Jambers, it is not to be had.
I learned this from my mother, father, and great granddad.
Jambers is the ultimate junk store, known by designers and the king.
If you cannot find anything at Jambers, you do not need anything.
"Marry me," the spider said to the flea.
Don't you find it cute to live on my web?
No, I will never forget your blather.
On your bedside, my brother in your deb.
You asked for a snack, left me, and be back.
Suddenly, you began weaving your neb.
Wrapped in a silk cage, promise not to age.
Until your last breath rematches the ebb.
What did you expect? Didn't you yet elect?
I'd act the same manner I did before.
You gasp, those deeds. Stay on the web with me.
to handle a minuscule bite and more.
Here lies the prob, no aim to let you sob.
because wedding you seem to be reckless.
The goal of a smooth life isn't a fool strife
In an auld silken entangle speckless.
Don't argue to love less, be deep and guess.
Your brother was so tasty, as a nap.
What have you just done? a fresh web you've spun!
She grinned as she closed the remaining gap.
2nd place contest winner
Written: February 27, 2023
Nursery Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
What is a flea market? I asked, unsure.
I found all kinds of things not found in the mall.
Antiques that brought memories back
Things I have never seen anywhere else
Things I knew I would never see or find anywhere else again
Home made things from creative people
Shiny things, feathery things, things of leather.
I was overjoyed when I discovered you can lug stuff to a cashier.
She will make you a pile and give you a number.
My number should have been JACKPOT
My pile was huge.
\My sister was askance.
My car is not big enough for all that, she told me.
Not to worry, I replied as they lugged a ten foot suit of armor to the register.
I have had to rent a truck to bring that guy home.
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