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
white bunnies are funny
tails puffy and fluffy
I see bear with thick honey
now he is getting huffy
will he see the bunny?
He sets down the honey
I watch the rabbit try to hop away
will he live another day?
Rodents are incredibly funny
Your face is getting red and puffy
While your attitude is huffy
Do not be so mean and rude
You really need to lose the 'tude
Don't be screaming in my face
You just look like a disgrace
Eyes of fuming reddish fire
Take a deep breath and retire
The smoke coming off your head
Take a walk right to the bed
And calm down--please talk to me
What is in your history
That made you so out of sorts
I will try to help abort
Any issues that will cause
Your identity to pause
Leaving destruction everywhere
Its as if you do not care
Who you hurt or push around
Try and listen to the sound
Of my voice so calm and low
As your breathing starts to slow
And I see my friend once more
Kick that evil out the door
Of your soul where it has taken
Over --leaving you so shaken
But this evil we'll evict
With a strong and steady kick
Ms. Shennanigan has a blue roof! The housing commission said.
They could not believe it, the other mushroom house roofs were red.
We always paint them red, no questions asked said a huffy one.
I think we should allow her to keep the blue, it is kind of fun.
The discussion went on for sixteen days and one night.
Up and down the table they argued, until it was daylight.
Let’s let her keep it eight of the twelve judges finally said.
Mrs. Shennanigans was now allowed to keep her roof red.
Mushroom village in tinsel town
Spins gold from everything that’s brown
I am amazed at the fey who live there
Having so much gold, they have no care.
Why don’t they share? Asks one who rarely does.
I cannot stop laughing at my selfish cousin, Little Cuz.
Why don’t you? I ask him, putting it right back.
He gets huffy and tries to give me a little smack.
I get away and go visit Mushroom Village again.
They like watching my mouth move and seeing my chin.
I am the only giant with a beard that they know.
Who can put on an exclusive soap bubbling show.
Retired Easter chick race is happening again today!
We were all eager to see it, it is fun every single May.
What are they riding? Someone asked, first time at the line.
Miniature stallions, we call them, they run incredibly fine.
The retired Easter chicks are older, and a little huffy.
Some have molted half their feathers, and they act stuffy.
We cheer them on, and they stick out their beaks in a weird way.
Watching this insane race every year truly makes a fantastic Sunday.
Haggard honey-loving homies held Hank’s hamhocks hostage
He hitched his hayrack, having habitual hints hint his huffiness.
Harry harbored horrifically hideous habits, hissing his heebe-jeebies.
Hangdog Hilda hesitated, having heard Hale hinting Harry’s holiness.
Huffy hummingbird Helen hindered Happenstance Hilda’s hayseed habits.
Himalayan Herbert, hayseed harboring hazardous hags, hid Hilda and Helen.
Hallowed horses having hatpins hissed, having had hobo handy hangers help.
Missy Bee Dee had a tail that would not quit
It was fluffy and full, and it was amazing more than a bit.
She strutted around the yard, showing it off.
Loving it more that it made some people cough.
She was prouder than a peacock about this fine tail.
She loved showing it off to every Tom, Dick and Gale.
But one day two squirrels showed up with tails fuller and more rad.
Irritating her so, she left the yard huffy, jealous and mad.
We wander for form, but at a snail's pace
We grasp pure air and feel the hills fully
We find joy walking to our desired place
By gazing, we might parse where fine sprouts face
We watch strange birds rippling wide and hardly
We wander for form, but at a snail's pace
Consider swans paddling for always bass
Thank God for the path; we will not worry
We find joy walking to our desired place
And hence we step close by huffy crow place
It cannot find dwarf worms that fade quickly
We wander for form, but at a snail's pace
For me; these tarns we would not sacrifice
Deft earth is a wonder of awe beauty
We find joy walking to our desired place
Such ambling in the sad years will witness
That behavior ought to yield life, held steady
We wander for form, but at a snail's pace
We find joy walking to our desired place
1st place contest winner
Written: February 23, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND STRUCTURED Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
She asks me for a letter of reference.
I cannot write one. I avoid answering.
Three or four times.
She calls me early in the morning at work.
I answer and she yells at me. Where is her letter?
I tell her I have not written one, and I do not plan to.
"You have seen me teach for years!" she argues.
"I told them you were writing a letter."
"Sorry," I tell her. "I cannot do it."
"But you have seen me teach for years!"
"No," I correct her. "I have seen you sit at your computer with
your back to the children for years while your assistant has done
all the work. I have never seen you teach."
She gets huffy and angry and begins sputtering.
Finally demanding I write the letter.
I tell her I cannot, wish her well and say goodbye.
At the end of the victorious war, Willy-nilly
Against the epidemic, a contest was held to crown
The container delicacy , most chosen and emptied fully ;
Imagine the viers lot from all quarters flown :
Mexican, Thai, Chinese, Indian, Local and all ;
Plain, spiced, soft, crisp, jelly and stuffy ,
Set and arranged in a musical buffet hall ,
All moods to turn pleasant from being huffy --
Of clairvoyants, connoisseurs and persons elite ;
The task was just to eat and perform a feat ;
The starter's ' go ' was given and the show began ,
Old and young, lean and hefty , woman and man ,
Had but only one container to Scoup-stream :
The motley flavoured and soul-satiable , Ice-Cream...!
Here comes Robbie the Elf with skills of a nitwit.
All of the rumors says he is resilient, and never will quit.
We all call him Robbie the Rhythm Man, this is his nickname
He is reliant, resourceful and repetitious in fame.
The reason we all know him, and this is the truth
Is he once out-sang a robin, her name was Sweet Ruth.
The wizards all remember that day, some say overdue.
Sweet Sue got huffy and angry, so this story is true.
Unsmiling gray wisp fingers drift and bore
A helical ridge around the vast sky;
Down abutting poignant horizon floor.
Alga blooms a huffy infectious cry.
A tree hollow bears nestling hanging high.
Lively songbird-swallows touched by the stir
Swift cry, swell and disappear till late by-
Passing hours of summer ruffling shower.
In a warm sleeping bag in a small tent,
Newlyweds lounge engaged with sweet hush sound
And lambent flame. Could not be better spent,
To wake with the morning dawn bodies wound.
In the open, they lie there, on their camp site,
Beneath the infinite clear twilight night.
written on 4/7/2020
Ambient Music N/A Serenity- In Scenes Of Mother Nature -Chantelle Anne Cooke Yes 4/9/2020 4:12:00 PM
N/A , Judged on 5/6/2020 for the contest
"Serenity In Scenes Of Mother Nature"
N-A Re-Run 8 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
My imagination was not amused by my muse
Had I thought they were the same thing?
If so I was sorely mistaken
My imagination was tired of her taking all the credit
For every line, every rhyme, every word that made sense
That’s mine! Trixie would shout.
Twirling her batons with the fire on the ends.
Leaping into the air higher than a well-endowed stag.
It was mine too! Imagination seethed. Irritated now.
What difference? I asked them. Are we not a “we?”
I never thought of myself as an I, did you?
“I am an I!” Trixie insisted, sticking her tongue out at Imagination.
I tried to apologize, but Imagination was all keyed up.
You always give her the credit he said, sticking out his tongue at me.
Good grief!
I rolled my eyes, but silently, and in my mind,
hoping Imagination would not catch me.
Of course he did, and he got all huffy.
Making Trixie laugh.
Have you heard of the new girl in town?
No, I do not believe I have. What about her?
I heard that she is a Viking Cow.
What is that? No idea.
Are you going to ask her?
No!
Why not?
I don’t even know if it is true
And yet here you are telling everybody.
I told no one else.
I wink at her.
Sure.
She walks off huffy.
I hear her say to the next guy
“Have you heard about the new girl in town?”
“No.”
“I heard she was a bike-attack waiting to happen.
“A what?”
“A bike-attack.”
What is that?
I have no idea, but it makes me want to meet her.
Why don’t you then?
I think I might.
The second grandma and I look at each other and smile as she approaches number three.
Alzheimer’s units are interesting places all day long.
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