The Owl-Father was asked many questions that year
Others did not make a move unless he gave the all-clear
Which one is he? The little yellow chick asked me.
He’s the pompous one standing straight up in that tree.
She flew up and waited for her turn to ask a favor of him.
He blustered and blathered, and turned his pocket watch in.
Staring at her through his monocle, he threw his weight around.
To her credit, she waited for a yes, before flying back down.
Mr. Monopoly
Wearing a top hat and a straight
jacket with a monocle and goatee.
He owns everything like God does.
Nobody will ever tell him different.
He'll silence you and disappear you.
He'll buy your friends and family.
He's the man who bought the world.
Steampunk beetle knew how to dress.
He was always immaculate, never a mess.
I liked his monocle too, I must confess.
I visited him often in the home of my grandma Bess.
The one thing that he did of which I could not agree….
He replaced body parts with metal, first an arm, then a knee.
Why do you do this? I asked; it was weird as far as I could see.
I want to be as steampunk as I can possibly be.
From an aerial view, the sight of a beautiful red train
chugging along down the railway track
takes my breath away;
One moment I am watching a funnel shaped smoke stack sending puffs,
up towards the white cottony clouds then disappearing,
and the next I am hearing the sound of a whistle blowing.
A melodious voice is heard as a conductor enounces,
"tickets please,"
Out of my pocket I produce an admission ticket
that was long overdue ...
With one cotton white glove he presses the ticket
between his fingers then holds it up to his gold monocle and smiles ,
"welcome aboard then !"
He traipses over to supposedly important passengers that I cannot see
and leaves me sitting there, wondering about our destination.
How I got so lucky as to enter this magical snow train I have no idea,
but the scent of this leathery Kirlian man, still clings to my thoughts
like a revenant moment from a long forgotten past.
To Be Continued...
Me oh Me oh Me oh wee oh oh My
The sky is blue when the guinea pigs fly
With top hat and vest here is elderly one, Guy.
Guess what? There’s a prissy monocle in his eye.
Her exquisite lace linen collar tiered in layers of dainty threes
Was not the only beautifying feature of Princess LaCrees
Her beetle necklace of green peridot was engraved well
Her monocle was designed by Bob Mackie’s protégé, Snell.
She was the ultimate spring peeper croaker.
We saw by her wardrobe, she was a leap frogging bloaker.
Prominently featured on her front was a darling topaz roach broach.
It was the kind of semi jewel that would never have to ride in coach.
Princess LaCrees knew to top off her flashy outfit with a favored crown.
Orange crushed velvet puff ball at the top, it was a coppery light brown.
She is dazzling, a jumper among the reeds, the best of the best.
Ribbit Ribbit she shouts, her head a big crest.
Don’t you get hungry wearing all of those bugs? Asked Lady in Waiting.
Not really, the princess answered, as her maids began the uncrating.
Grasshoppers, ants, beetles, and lady bugs were scattering all around.
She stabbed and ate them all with her wand, without making a sound.
Why do we have pairs of scissors?
Since that's how they've always been known,
why do we care why we call them a pair
when one is no good on its own?
The same thing applies to our trousers,
just wearing the one would be daft,
just showing one knee, ugly veins you could see
and I don't think I'd cope with the draught.
The same thing applies to my spectacles,
another I couldn't let pass,
since one on its own as a monocle it's known
so why not just call it a glass?
I asked my good Lady's opinion,
she said 'oh, that's quite plain to see,
as a pair we get on, and the jobs all get done
but you'd be useless without me'.
We danced and howled with
with laughter through confetti!
Blew horns and kissed aplenty
Because~The New Year was here!
With joy and gladness,we threw
off last year's sadness!
Champagne we drank, yes some
overly tanked.
Because ~ The New Year was here.
Each day, of this year, gives us all a new start.
Tis really boneheaded, to even
consider only one day to celebrate?
An idea from which to depart!
Get a monocle, if you cannot conceive.....
That each day is miracle, but you must believe!
12-31-2020
7:30am PST
Gentleman muffin wearing monocle
My mustache never been out of fashion
Never thought bringing out my chronicle
Jockeyed searching my perfect companion
I dreamed becoming morning glory muffins
Howbeit fate is in the hands of the baker
Throws old ingredients, I’m huffing and puffing
Bread maker made me sweeter, ampler power
Window dresser puts me on display case
A lonely bun lying in wooden racks
A glace domed cake, no one blowing my face
With nightfall comes, only got aching back
Can I still witness my dawning rapture?
With people lining up to shoot my picture
16 September 2020
(Sonnet - personification poem)
Flying Jib son of Curry Comb
The care of the comb son of Garden Gnome
Garden Gnome son of Pillow Case
The case of the headrest o’ Second Base
Second Base son of Baby Chick
The chick who’s a pip son of Pogo Stick
Pogo Stick son of Gunder Fahr
The father of man son of Zanzibar
Zanzibar son of Zanihey
The hey zani hey son of Make My Day
Make My Day son of Monocle
The cull of the one son of Dimn Endoll
Dimn Endoll son of Angel Eyes
The seer of the saint son of Biting Flies
Biting Flies son of Linseed Oil
The oil of the flax son of Munsell Soil
Munsell Soil son of Swami Snake
The snake in the basket o’ Pullman Brake
Pullman Brake son of Hatta Tik
The bug in the rug son of Balletic
Balletic son of FBI
The Tommy gun men son of Hy and Dri
Hy and Dri son of Daily News
The word on the street son of Boogie Shoes
Boogie Shoes son of Years Ago
The gone by the way son of Best in Show
Best in Show son of Links of Chain
The iron that weeps son of Dick and Jane
Dick and Jane son of Bob and Weave
The blow to the head son of Makebelieve
Makebelieve son of Elmo Bib
The under the pin son of Flying Jib
My Love, Eve
Your skin glows like the Apple, blossoms eagerly as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your guitar voice and leaps like a dog at the whisper of your name, Eve.
The evening ascends in on a great parrot wing.
I am calmed by your sock that I carry into the twilight of leafbeams and hold next to my knee.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of Valvoline.
As my nostril falls from my monocle, it reminds me of your toenail.
In the hushed, I listen for the last pfrrrrt of the spring.
My heated cerebellum leaps to my stocking. I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret mole so that we may saunter as one, cerebellum to cerebellum, in search of the glorious gallbladder-green and spiritual jello of love.
Created by,
PoetrySoup Poem Generator.
Data provider, Martin Braun
12/06/2018
The Clockmaker
The old clockmaker sat at his bench
In the shop where he'd lived all his years
With a monocle lens on his eye
And his desk filled with sprockets and gears.
Everything had its place in a drawer.
Every drawer labeled proper and neat.
Only sound to be heard was the clocks
As they ticked out a monotone beat.
Of the hundreds of clocks there for sale
Each with spaces on walls or on shelves
Not a one of them told the wrong time
And they all said one minute till twelve
The dark moment he'd feared had arrived
And the clockmaker's face gave a wince
As each clock confirmed midnight had come
And that now Daylight Savings begins
8.17.18
Contest: A Rattling Rhyme
Have you always thought that something was true
And then find out that it wasn’t then
There are beliefs of the masses found to be untrue
Named after Nelson Mandela who spent 27 years in jail
And was released in 1990
But people swear he died in prison in the 1980s
Not becoming South African president in the 1990
The monocle of Mr Pennybags in Monopoly was never there
And Darth Vader never said, “Luke, I am your father”
Curious George never had a tail
Mona Lisa does not have a frown but a smirk on her face
The Evil Queen in Snow White
Never said “Mirror Mirror on the wall” in the Disney toon
Small things they all are when questioned
But they become part of world culture.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Felix, Tom, Boss cat too
Our feline friends, not in a zoo.
Cartoons flicker across our eyes,
Long lost pussy's in the skies.
Tommy and Lucy, 13years on,
Slower but still going strong.
Lucy black, still likes to play,
Though lazily lounges throughout the day.
If I could, I'd have a cat,
That wore a monocle and a top hat.
It'd ride a bike, along our road,
Stay fit and youthful, never old.
monocle of wealth and one eye shut — truth shrinks to a translucent world
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Date: 10 / 12 / 2016
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