n Earnest's evocative Emporium
there's odds ends a whatnot or two
or they can do a brickbat
novelty knick-knack bugaboo
all nice and bright as a button
altho' they're twice as kitsch
odd oddments and sodments
curious curios contained in a niche
as well as folderol and bric-a-brac
brought from across the border
but the house specialty is really
antiques made to order
Man's best friend
in need of a feed
is a friend indeed
so
with a knick-knack here
and a paddywhack there
give your mutt a bone
pat your pet
cuddle your canine
canoodle with your poodle
or smooch your pooch
and he'll hound you
'til the cows come home
wagging his tail behind him
Professor: Setting is inducing trust that as a writer you are not volatile, nor giving lesser detailed thought about those knick knack, mundane also. can you give me an example Johny?
Johny: Certainly , can I ask the narrator type?
professor: say, camera setting...
Johny : genre?
professor : prose poem, light hearted or serious, both will do.
Johny : here you go....I bought floss and Hydrogen per oxide from the nearby pharmacy. I wanted to pick up my medicine too, but they were reluctant, altogether, seemingly so. I had to bypass.
professor : why so?
Johny: the only audible sound was a song..."when you say nothing at all."
Surely , verily a cranky setting! tired too!
As the counseling session was declaring, they begin as a parent asleep, raise them up asleep and send them to school asleep. Dreams ahoy!
It was the bronzed bell of a tinseled Ocean ship.
Until Destiny was scuttled by a fiery water witch.
In time, it became the haunting clang upon a reef.
A macabre knick-knack for cliques that ruled the deep.
They returned like blue birds, lonely for a blossoming.
To pay homage to every sailor overtaken by the sea.
They lay bouquets over shadowed grief...
as ghosts pared sweet memories into paper effigies.
Between shuffles of worn decks and ninety-proof lips.
They spin tales of crimson seas and horrible dorsal fins...
Torn hearts and sails, forever on a starboard list.
Drifting between a blue refrain and the salty mist.
In the graying vein of time, everything's forgotten.
The sweet angelic, the mundane, the eternally rotten.
Gravestones hoard salt within their granite cracks.
Tokens to a time when auroras bled into blackness.
One by one the crew will drift from this pearled realm.
Riding Tradewinds into the gilded scented heavens...
or become driftwood in the brackish heart of hell...
as the captain sways to the clang of his beloved water bell.
"This old man, he played one……”
There has never been a more joyful homeless guy.
We had brought turkey sandwiches to his alley.
He had a small ukulele, and he was loving his song.
“….with a knick knack, paddy whack, give a dog a bone…”
“He is really something!” An old lady said to me.
She took the sandwich after asking if it had mustard.
I had a mustard packet in my pocket, so I gave it to her.
“I need two,” she informed me.
The old man was singing more loudly now.
There were six of us church people here.
I looked at Jim’s face because he was near me.
He rolled his eyes which surprised me.
I thought he would appreciate the guy’s enthusiasm.
On the van ride back to the church the others discussed the singer.
“He was ridiculous!”
“I loved his enthusiasm,” I told them.
“He was not that great a singer,” someone said.
“I loved his enthusiasm!” I repeated, but a bit louder.
Realizing now that I liked the guy with the ukulele better than I liked them.
Remembrance for a choker in my deathbed
(Read-only version, a knick-knack too)
Precious finger, the witnessing one, Count
The forehead of a pious one, leaving a mark
Glowing along days and nights, prayer mats, in trying times
And prayers at dusk. Prayers valid till the sternest hairline dawn.
I touched his forehead, long past after the soul is gone.
He was the only one in my life, the only one of his capable kind.
He was the stubbornest hand holding me and mom inside an elevator
He was scrutinizing the sky to let me fly, however superficial it may sound.
I got wiser through all these years. I earned wisdom.
In turning grayer hair colors too, underneath the head scarf.
You will see my purple there, but I will label it as a purple heart.
Torn tears are in sheets of Facial tissues, also, in mourning mistakes, never to be known.
Just for my persuasive temptation, for the next one,
How many harms roads are there along the enlightenment highway in one full Cloverleaf, the old one?
Oooooooh bagels and bread by golly
Rumors and ramekins, fools folly
This attitude aggregious
But a knick knack fecicious
Hold a tick, did you say napkins?
Not for glass jars and captains
A twist off jammed and stuck in a rut
Threads on a screw doing all the scut
A nail has it easy
All smooth and goes in easy
But time and hammer gave a chance
As long as it was done in baggy pants
So a squid with a quiver
Full of arrows did deliver
Down the narrows did they float
But on a paddle not a boat
So he ate his breakfast fast
And wiped the ink off from a blast
Broke open the container
It's no crazier than saner
Built the shelter speedily
With headphones on greedily
Balanced atop a wooden oar
A raft, no no, just such a bore
Not very analytical
But we won't become political
Since it was a higher ranking tenticle
Who made the inky wooden popsicle
A little poem nonsensical
Where sense is reprehensible
i can't just say
four words and
then remain
sigh lent
so though you sent
me that word
i must doe re
me spond
whackadoo but
whackadon't and
let's not forget
knick knack patty
whack but you
have to ask
yourself
how much
wood could a
woodchuck
chuck if a
wood
chuck
would
chuck
wood
i will give you
the answer as
soon as i give
one hundred
monkeys one
hundred type
writers with
paper and
pray
not to
get an
output
of
shake
speare
Knick Knack Paddy Whack
Can’t take back a wisecrack
If you wanna be a crackerjack
Earn a greenback from blackjack
Gotta buyback your backpack
Need to blister pack your flapjacks
Evident ebbing of drawbacks
Raises the bar for the sad sacks
The good life, so Kodak
So long as you don’t sidetrack
Selfie people hide in haystacks
Hoarding their golden tie tacks
Shall we ponder how to give back
Go beyond the dusty knickknack
Respect deserves a worthy payback
Not a flimsy whimsy kickback
Society requests a comeback
All the time I've wished away
I'd wish to have it back today
'Not good enough' it seemed to be
When it was there surrounding me
Wish it away, and wish it back
There always seems to be some lack
Not with the present day content
The 'here and now' we do resent
The good old days I'd have again,
They were the 'now' rejected then
Unlike some knick knack on a shelf
Time can't be hoarded for ones self
If every wish I made came true
When wishing present time were through
To an early grave I would have passed
My every wish come true at last
Rum tum timpy tappy tum tum tum
Rum tum tippy tampy tum.
I flip tiddle winkies with my thumb
Rum tum winky wappy wum.
Ring rang nippy nappy tee tie toe
Rag tag sticky taffy yum
I flick tiddle winkles high-dee-hoe
Knick knack deedle dyddle dum.
I dated a designer named miss Quiche
And walked her chow at the end of its leash
But she got irate
On our second date
When my tchotchke got too close to her niche
Although in a week she asked for me back
And let me polish her two bric-a-brac
Then below that ledge
I struggled to wedge
My doo-hickey inside her knick-knack
Yet she had the nerve to mock my trinket
Which that, of course, effected to shrink it
But I seized from the rear
A select souvenir
Hoping in the end she would rethink it
Knick-knack paddywack
Give the dog a bone
Grown up quick
But you didn't go wrong
Criss-cross twist toss
Over and under
Wonderful memories
Are always of blunder
Clip-clap snap back
Shakin my head
Fed up people
End up red
Stop-skip jump trip
Lick up the wound
Noon is the time
To just sit in your room
Flair-fall stumble stall
Live to love your life
Strife and grief
Make it all the more bright
Give-got taken shot
The higher you climb
I'm still with you
So smile all the time
I'm the daughter I'll have you know!
~Reecie
Faded photographs; a sentimental knick knack;
a much loved movie from so many years ago.
The times I chance on things like these, it takes me back.
The person that I used to be, I hardly know.
A much loved movie from so many years ago -
so out of style today, not like it used to seem.
The person that I used to be, I hardly know.
Time brought me swiftly to the Now. It seems a dream.
So out of style today, not like it used to seem -
that saved old pair of jeans; that certain special song.
Time brought me swiftly to the Now. It seems a dream,
I grow unsure if in this new world I belong.
That saved old pair of jeans; that certain special song;
the times I chance on things like these, they take me back.
I grow unsure if in this new world I belong.
Faded photographs; a sentimental knick knack!
Inspired by Paula Swanson's "Back to Back" Contest
My dreaming suns tapered into groves
Of mandrake plants and roots of cleft shadows,
When the bootstrapped heels of tramping dusk
Kicked my reveries that they dissolved to dust and husk,
Bowling in a spiral down a nightshade path,
Fracturing against the moon-stained tombs epitaph,
Dispersing among the graveyard grasses,
Flying bat-like against chapel window glasses,
Evaporating around the puritan wood pews,
Resting on the turning of infinite screws,
Laying on the altars of burgundy and stone,
Sacrificed for a knick-knack of crystal and bone.
Such is the duplicitous heart of the dark side,
Outer limits of a rat arsed world split wide,
Where the edges and meanings blur like smoke,
And white-eyed girls blow kisses for a joke
To settle like ghosts upon frosted blue lips,
Until time reverses, trips, flips and slips
A drunken stutter of moonwalk proportions,
A flock of masochistic temporal distortions,
And dreams, or truth, whichever is preferred
Become the children of yore, seen but not heard.
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