Beaver, mole or platypus? It waddles like all three.
I watch the creature scoot along, wild, weird and free.
If she pauses along the way to leave some tiny eggs down
I will call her Platte City Platypus, named for my uncle’s town.
Velvety earthmover, pink spades for paws,
mining for wriggles and nibbles.
You dig, delve and shovel,
breaststroke, through the soil,
a subterranean swimmer,
seeking a trapped sunlight
in the dimly packed dirt.
Myopic mole, surface,
peep out,
to blink at the moonlight,
rest upon your little hillock of labor,
a mound
that testifies to your busy soul.
Push your naked twitchy snout,
up into the wide-open,
whiskers alive to the rarified taste,
of a less muddy slice of life.
mole was digging and digging and digging some more.
moon finally asked him “Are your claws not truly duly sore?”
they sure are, said mole, “But what can I do?”
“I would use a gardening tool called a hoe,” said Luna Lu.
the hoe was handy, a sweet tool, a nice little digger
mole then tried out a spade, for it was decidedly bigger.
finally went for a shovel, but did not get to China that day.
maybe tomorrow he told himself, for it is Wednesday.
My imagination skipped a beat
Swallowed hard, spun around
Tried to find answers in the woods
The trees were silent
Would a gnome come out?
A mouse?
A ground hog?
I sat on a rock and pondered for an hour.
Watching the mole hole door like a hawk.
Nothing came out sadly.
In my Pearl observed a hole:
The Hidden black of a mole;
From that day ceased to be whole,
From that hour A Big Charcoal
I should not give my prized soul
Or, else, smell not my set goal,
Play not a cherished clean role
Nor body support on firm sole...
In Pearl spotted a clear hole
For which folks I give a pole...
Pearl might fish catch: a full shoal
But won't out a quarter dole:
Feared men seek to ride like foal...
The Hidden Black of a Mole.
Secret eyes popping
like hidden ears peeping
while silent words are seeping
from cunning mouths propping.
November 10, 2022
Mole would have been a gardener,
but he just couldn’t see.
He was consigned to dig and dig
and wander aimlessly.
But then a woodland faerie
popped him upon the snout,
gave him a bulbous brownish thing,
told him to let it sprout.
She said, when you can feel the shoots,
then cut it into chunks,
and bury them deep in the ground,
and wait a couple months.
He didn’t quite believe her,
but much to his surprise,
that idaho did start to grow,
and now he’s got his eyes.
I
Mr. R. was in rapt reverie
Mr. M rowed the boat
A last minute rescue mission
For otter gone over, for a Piper
Not Pied, but he may as well have been
Lured the junior from Mr. Portly O.
Otter senior, according to K. Grahame
II
Before messrs R & M (rat & mole) that is,
Found the young otter who'd gone missing
Causing grief to all back home, & Dad -
They found God: Awe, Presence, Friend & Helper
Led by the piping of a heavenly Piper
In the chapter of WIND IN THE WILLOWS named:
The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn
If a Rat & Mole can find God through Music,
What's your Excuse (no pressure, LOL!)
III
President Teddy Roosevelt wrote the author, 17 January 1909, from the White House, that he had come round to liking the (third) book by Kenneth Grahame. Most readers & critics, & the public resisted liking this book because of his earlier success (with two children's stories). Grahame's Rat, Mole, Badger, Toad, and Otters have become widely accepted & loved. Better late than never. Thx Teddy Bear Prez. (Prez. TR founded the US Wildlife Refuge system)
behold i’m a troll
being an imposter my goal
besides i’ve no role
behind these screens rots my soul
beating back into my hole
Dedicated to the coward/s that tried
to sabotage Edward Ibeh’s ‘(this or
that) contest.
By David Kavanagh
genealogy
family tree treasure hunt—
come to your census
***
12/9/2019
In one labor of Star-nosed Moles
Traveled a slower toothless cow
The last in line, all that she sees
Is sore gums and molasses now!
I cannot type
I cannot write
I cannot read
I cannot see
I cannot hear
I cannot smell
I am like a mole rat
Though you might think I seem country
And there's a lot of that in my roots
I was raised metropolitan,
Not much on plows, guns and boots!
Once when my stepson came over
To cut up a fallen tree for wood
I happened to see a dead mole
Right next to my feet, where I stood
My wife said, "Just get rid of it!"
I asked, "Is there a bag around?",
"Maybe some gloves or a tissue?"
About then my stepson looked down
He suddenly picked up that mole
And then tossed it into the trees
That gave me a chill all over,
Without even having a breeze!
My wife laughing, didn't really help
My known lowest of self esteems
Showing that in no uncertain terms
I'm not the mole tosser of her dreams!
Somethings gonna get you;
somethin' got it's eye on you;
Open and shutting mouth
What's a beak gonna do;
Chew you up and down;
Peck you on your sunburn arm;
Spit in your eyes;
Scratch your thigh;
Why, Oh why;
It's crawling out you onto your lips;
A fever blister bout to bust;
It's licking at your eyes;
In tears of pain you cry;
My, my, my...
Why, why, why...
what's cha gonna do when the Duck-mole comes for you;
You don't think it's true, don't blink;
what's cha gonna do when the Duck-mole comes for you;
9/14/82
James Edward Lee & Gary Boyle ©1982
Base on Gary Boyle character and song
My Grass and Mole Cricket
My grass is being killed by mole cricket,
Even beneath my fence that is a picket;
Grass is dying;
We are crying;
Do wish there is way that we can lick it.
Jim Horn
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