a cheerless chase is impracticable in twirlingly barometric whirligig whispering tunelessly into foaminess
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • September 14–20, 2026)
always
blotchy
crinkly
drudge
ensemble
faultlessly
godlike
hip
in
knitwear
louis
monterverdi
nympho
of
pimply
railing
smashing
tasteslessness
unquietly
viscous
was
your
zamang
Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 13–19, 2026)
a
bicoloured
cantata
demo
entering
favourably
hieratical
into
jubilant
mating
norwegian
of
perdition
rearing
setter
through
unselfish
vulgarisation
with
you
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 6–12, 2026)
My brain is full of fuzz
With Footle rhyming buzz
Much harder than it looks
This is one for the books
Time has its back to me
I've never ever seen its face
So since it won't acknowledge me
I won't give it the time of day
I’ve given up on perfection – it’s
just not me; without saying, also
given up on trying to be perfectly
imperfect – really the same
every now and then tried
but beyond my control
managed to get something
right
not in the definitive sense
(whatever that is) of right
vs wrong...but occasionally,
by sheer luck, following a
method that seemed to work --
right or wrong farthest thing
from my mind
truth be told, most things that
work, really do not work for
the reasons we believe – future
scientific discovery, can make
lame any intellectual ego
So, only certain that this poem
is not perfect, nor perfectly
imperfect – which leads me
to, whether I am beginning
or have begun?~ not to exclude,
doing or done?~ I will then
conclude, perhaps every poem is a
won, when having been written
just for fun!?
Rickety rackety rattletrap Ralph
Swiftly splattered and splashed his way south
Tattering and transferring two trucks in a tunnel
Undermining Uncle Uric’s ferocious fire funnel
Slickly sideswiping sleuth’s semi-good solution
Taking turns twisting a tornado, causing serious pollution.
flitter flutter floozy flood
fluent flowing in forever mud
flummadiddle fairy, frenzy flowing
Where is all this featherheaded foolishness going?
Blustering snowballs, Batman,
it's cold enough to blubber
blast the titanic iceberg
from its frozen handshake.
But snowballs that ain’t
formed; fine powdery dust
billowing ‘neath the core, of not hell,
but the moat of the ice queen’s castle.
Frozen icicles, Batman,
drip from nostrils and lips,
welcoming a brew of nog to noggin,
or toddy for the torrential reality
of fastball bugs for tethered sleeves -
the season’s green sleeves.
A yuck of a holiday for some.
A hiccup and cheers to a New Year.
At the Des Moines River’s Road End
There was a sharp tricky right bend
Prickly pines there were ready to defend
Graveled middle, a modern MODOT trend
Weeds that flittering faeries often tend
Mushroom homes, upon whom elves defend
Mother nature sat on haunches to mend
Torn sage weeds, beavers had chewed to extend.
Imaginative idealists, Inez, Ian and Inkwell Ida
Illustrious industrious iguanas from Fiji Fida
Invited intelligent Ivan to invest in indigo ink in coveted China
Industries in Indiana, Iowa, Illinois and Idaho
Indicated to Inez, Ian and Ida this was the way to go
Informing ideal initial investors from Froffits
To imagine their insane ideas initiating profits
Why oh why asked Old Lady Spry
Do they always die without saying bye?
Her husband Kai let out a loud sigh
Put eggs on high that he was trying to fry
This is a true story, assured my neighbor Vi
Kai’s omelet included warm cheese of brie.
I knew it right away, ‘cause I am sort of a spy.
I can see in their window if I really try.
Their house is a bit of a challenge, a real pigsty.
This is almost the full truth; I rarely tell a lie.
Persnickety Lady Spry winks and always says “hi”.
She gave my husband a Santa Christmas tie.
It was nothing the old hag had to go out and buy.
Repurposed from her deadbeat ex-husband Cy.
Vi then gave us a good-bye, for she had to fly.
Heading to Canada with Ty, her new guy.
He’s super sweet, backwards, and weirdly shy
But I might be in love with this goof-pot said Vi.
She falls in love fast had stated Old Lady Spry.
This is the truth, my friends, for I do not lie.
efficient Eddie eliminated evil Edna’s eyeglasses
flustering Frannie Florence, furthering father’s frankness forever
generous Ginnie gave glasses glorious glam, gluing garbage
hallow Hal hinted heroics, having Henry’s huffy habits
ideas ignited, illuminating idiocy in Illinois, Iowa and Idaho
juicy judgement jockeyed jointly, justifying judicial jury
all automatic alligators arrive arrogantly
barely behave beautifully but brazenly
carousing with creepy cruddy crocodiles
desperately denying despicable wiles
effectively expediting expediency
forever forsaking fruit flies who flee
glaring at grazing gritty grouses
hijacking horrific herbivore’s handy houses
igniting ingenious iguanas in I-o-Way
jubilantly joining jerky jaguars along the way
kibitzing kinesthetic killers from Zion
lollygagging like lively luxurious mountain lions
marvelously marking multitude of mini monkeys
notoriously noting nefarious nodules of displease
ostentatiously opening overt outages in Oregon
providing panda putrid prey Paul just spit on
quarrelsome quicksand quail
rapidly reading registered mail
saying sassing sentences swiftly
turning terrific tarantulas toenails thickly
utilizing underwater undercurrents down under
verifying valid villans' voluptuous plunder
with wild willingness and witchy wonder
‘xacting ‘xactly ‘xtreme ‘xestentialism supreme
yelling youngster’s yips on front of the queen
zinging zealous zealots into zebras galore
end of this abcedarian poem, there is no more.
alabaster alligators always allow
bulbous bickering baboons access to their waterway
canal etiquette at its best
deliberately welcoming these interlopers
enthusiastically waving them into their canal
frisky forest fey watch, expecting to see the worst
giving excited baboons no credit for wise choices yet
having prior experiences with the alligators
ideally, they would like to expect the best
Jimmy Baboon celebrates his newfound access
knowing not the ruthlessness of the clever alligators
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