Long Lickety Poems
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Greetings from Canada dear readers ! Let me cajole you with a wee bit of fun
and ardent banter. Well, obviously I am Canadian and we are very polite and
charming people, we are sorry when we are guilty of nothing. We say please
and thank you and your welcome often. It is drilled into us from childhood.
You bump into us and lickety-split we will say sorry! It can all get quite absurd.
Talking about absurd there is a real rigmarole going on with a groundhog, a
rodent who predicts if we will get a long winter or a short winter. What kind of
nincompoop believes in this gobbledygook. The story goes that if the rodent,
excuse me, I mean groundhog sees his shadow we have six more weeks of
winter. Now, being a fairly intelligent girl, I say in a forceful voice, balderdash!
I could have predicted six more weeks of winter. Without getting cantankerous,
it is bloody freezing outside! Apparently this pampered, Willie rodent saw his
big fat shadow and it was declared. What a brouhaha that caused. Why did they
not just ask me ? Oh, we may get a little melt, to tease us but the snow and
cold will stick around to torment us, the wind will blow and the snow will fall.
the bare branches wish
for soft emerald green gowns-
snowflakes swirl and twirl
_______________________
February 4, 2018
Poetry/Haibun/A Bit Of Lofty Chit Chat
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9895-87
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Eloquent Banter; You tease me so nicely
sponsor, Edward McCall
Honorable Mention
Speedier than lickety-split
Ready to jump tall structures in a hit
More powerful than an electric bolt
In a solitary bounding jolt
Look up in the sky!
It's a creature, lowly flying high
Think, it's a robot, I admit
Hmm, what is it?
Our own selves underneath, the vapid worn-out drapes
Hallucinogenic lights enlightening our shapes
Howbeit, the quiet mumble, hereupon
And the hum buzz wavering, of hanger-on
Murmuring about outside within sight
Their sharp edges cutting the night
It employs a spying eye
Every which way of the sky
By itself/oneself freaking out
Not realizing what could be about
All by one's lonesome, can't unwind at all
The observation in awe 'n appall
Tis' gathering data on- I for one and you
It's looking at all that we do
Why goodness- gracious, I bemoan
Why Yes! It's a DRONE!...
Here is the sad tale of the moronic bullfrog king
He may be royal, but he is a ding-dong-ding-a-ling.
He cannot tie his shoes, drive a car or even sing.
Whistling is out, he is a lackadaisical old thing.
He has a name, but he does not answer to it.
For he does not remember it day-to-day, not one bit.
Majestic maids and butlers are much smarter than he.
He does not even hit the toilet when he takes a …..
He has no friends, but his court is always full.
People can steal his riches with a tug and a pull.
For he does not notice as they grab his watch.
No robbery there ever had even one small botch.
Lickety-split here he comes, so pretend to bow.
He will either ride in on a donkey, pelican or cow.
He is the oddest bullfrog king we have ever had.
And this was all said by his mom and dad.
Looking for money the easiest way -
Impossibly shameless, he searched for his prey.
Cleverly creeping, he’d spy a poor dolt,
Kill them with kindness and gain sympathy.
Embezzlement was his great specialty -
Trickery too, and the talent to bolt!
Yes, when he fled, he gave them a jolt.
Slimy was he, being slickety-slick,
Prospering from every poor soul he duped.
Lickety split, he was quicker than quick.
In a lurch he would leave them. How low he stooped!
Then off he’d be running, fresh patsies to pick.
April 13, 2018 for Deb Guzzi's Lickety-Split Acrostic Contest
There were some poets, they lived in gnarled trees.
Creating short comments lists, rapidly as can be.
In that way, they could comment, lickety-split!
Mundane acronyms, displaying only an empty wit?
You will find these poets next to each poetic creation.
No time for sentences, as if pure damnation?
Or how about one word adjectives from first grade?
So I ceased writing and chose to sit in the shade!
I honestly felt to be as car in the Daytona 500.
Just write to win every contest under the moon.
Hoping poets at my feet, one day might swoon!
A poem is a chance, to deeply connect with another .
Artists who deeply respect the poetry in another!
3/29/2023
Dedicated to Jan Allison
A REAL STINKER
Medically speaking, all humans have movement of their sphincter.
Eruptions of sphincters can cause disturbances of epic proportions.
Your fresh squeeze, young and delightful, may utter a proof that
sensory brains indeed moved to a higher atmosphere from the rear.
The scented sphincter will not easily dissipate, can’t wait just a sec -
the sulfuric scent can linger longer unchecked. Clear the room
for if you enter in too quick, a sign should really appear, quite like
the caution of the Parisian catacombs, the stench of dry bones
quaking under the sphincter’s attack - a real stinker in fact.
His date was afright as he grew green, sped to his brother’s house,
familiarity threw open the door then onto the bathroom lickety-split.
That roaring relief catapulted to new heights,
as a little boy’s voice leaps from the tub, “Uncle Dan!”
(Name has been changed but the laugh is reel
as the paper unwinds over or under -
no one cares when there is a great deal of thunder)
Disagreeable relations lean in
to hear the tale again and again,
until one has to go…real bad
12/3/2021
Twas the night before Christmas in 2054
The only sound being robotic mice on the floor
Our digital wish-lists were hung with ultra-precision
Above the virtual fireplace in pre-supposition
Of the anticipated arrival of a hypothetical being.
The miniature adults were dormant in their pods
As eidolon confiture twinkled their nods
While responsible progenitors with 'Bed Head" applied
Had concluded their thoughts for the long Winter's night.
Then out on the Astroturf there began such a frattle.
Startled from our beds to witness the sprattle
We opened our security cams to survey the scene
Frame by frame we analyzed what we were seeing.
The spotlight that shone on the new fallen snow,
Made fulsome the green of our false mistletoe,
And, at that very moment a freeze-frame laid bare
A cutting edge sleigh pulled by eight robotic deer.
Its jovial driver was dressed all in scarlet;
I knew it must be the Santa of myth,
For he was down our chimney with a bag of toys
And lickety-split back without making a noise.
It was over in a twinkle - he was gone with a whoosh
As you can imagine our confusion was profuse
And although his reindeer were mechanical frames
He recited out loudly and called all their names.
Come Bolter, come Byte-r come Laser and Algorithm,
Come Orbiter, Come Thyristor, Come Thunder and Mixem
As he circled the rooftop in a Gigabyte of starlight
He shouted LOL three times- as his sleigh zoomed skyward.
Who made red panda Robin Hood? My cousin asked.
No idea, but go along with it if you can, I replied.
His hat is feathered, and he is amply flasked.
And he is walking the path, now coming inside.
Hello fair Robin Hood, my cousin said quickly.
His words turned upbeat lickety-split-ly.
I laughed at my cousin, who is afraid of this creature.
But invites him to stay over to watch a double feature.
Why did you do that? I whisper as Robin robs us.
It is irritating to me, as he steals my parakeet, Gus.
I was terrified, my cousin says, I did not know what to say.
That is no big deal for my cousin, actually, a typical day.
Enervated and energized after cold shower
the perfect tonic to gin body though o'clock
wee hours August thirty one two thousand
nineteen - natural buzz to stave off relished
sleep, thus refueled with zest able to chop
chop thru printed material (dictionary seat
of pants newpage turner with a-z characters)
and no crock, but refreshing douse of chill
kept mien ole body electric able to dial back
feeling akin to soap bar man tiredness life
came to buoy quite some hours with joy de
vivre vigor analogous to morning dove (or as
if submerged smooth as ivory into Irish Spring),
until... bubbliness peaked than plunged yours
truly into fast shuteye descent lulled into land
o' dreams courtesy double fan tussy "white
noise," until I awoke with a start, (albeit heavy
grogginess clinging fast - thick spidery whirled
wide cob webbed glommed threads) unable to
offset toe tilly stark realization bare little feet
(plaintively oinking higglety pigglety) felt like
ice cubes, whereby skimpy blanket inadequate
to allow, enable, and provide adequate quality
sleep, hence inspiration piqued to attempt cob
bullying poem gifted (thank you watermelon
pickle) despite raggedy state, not optimal state
string words together rendering sense and cents
ability birthing feeble attempt to sweat out small
medium thoughts lodged within fifty plus shades
gray atrophied matter - begetting literary stillborn
whereby intensive care unit medical team resorted
to heroic measures applying revolutionary punk
chew weighted equilibrium until state of the art
poetic license intervention wrought sudden jaw
dropping miracle – whipped courtesy last ditch
Shakespearean divine resuscitation, (plus all the
king's men and all the king's horses) rendered
dead as a doornail absolute zero metaphoric
lifeless limp bizkit verse, neither lickety split
rhyme nor reason could explain tectonic shift
witnessing pluperfect (donned with little non hex
pence booties) manifestation vital signs, but
metered metrical blue feet in toto - oz needed
close monitoring to ward off 10,000 maniacs.
Of all the words in English lore,
That sounds like something from before,
Like “flibbertigibbet” or “brouhaha”,
Or some old, useless, “codswallop”, “tara-da-da,”
There is one that shines with such a wondrous glow,
A luminous and lovely, “lo and behold!”
It is not “glimmering,” nor just merely “bright,”
It speaks of pure, unadulterated light.
“Effulgent”, a word to make the spirits soar,
Describing brilliance from its very core.
It’s the sun at noon, in all its blazing power,
The vibrant, perfect essence of a flower,
A sudden, clear epiphany, a light on a dark way,
The radiant, shining splendor of a brand new day.
A complex, long, and winding word, you see,
A verbal rigmarole, if it needs be,
But once you grasp the luster of its sound,
True, shining, radiant wonder you have found.
So let the other words go lickety-split and fast,
“Effulgent” is a gem built to last!