cute cuddly panda
looks like the ideal pet
~ caution... gets 'hangry'
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
At halftime, see the ‘Red Panda’ perform
NBA fans to her do swarm
Way up on top of that crazy unicycle
cool as a cucumber packed in an icicle
Flipping bowls, cups and saucers from her feet
to the top of her pretty head
Smile and laugh your troubles away
your ‘I’m- out-in-public’ inhibitions shed
big bushy red tail
tree dwelling bundle of joy
eating bamboo stalks
In the Himalayas way up in a bamboo tree
Lived a solitary panda named Mr. McVee
He was a heifer of his species at fourteen pounds
His body was cuddly-looking, and he made few sounds.
He is a red panda, with an expected life span of eight.
Kind of like a cat or a bear, he thinks bamboo tastes great.
He has a black belly and ebony legs, but don’t pet him.
He does not like to be touched, avoids contact, said Jim.
Jim was the guide for the day, who was telling us about the RP.
Ninety-eight percent of red panda’s diet is bamboo, you see.
He sometimes consumes fruit, insects, and bird eggs too.
He has one more digit on his paw than you.
The red panda heard the talk, and waved to them from up high.
He is not friendly down below, but he felt safe bye and bye.
These humans could not get him up here in his joyful bamboo.
Sleeping seventeen hours a day, his naps are nearly never through.
Panda Pete was an avid carnivore
Devoured small birds, snakes, and wanted more
Followed the Amazon River to Ecuador
where he lived with a meat-eating matador
these two had a great time shopping at a grocery store
purchasing steaks, roasts, chicken, fish, meats galore.
Red panda was lazier than his friend the sloth
Just leave me alone, he said to Goth
If I want to raise my head I will later
But this second I want to lie like a gator
On Christmas Eve a call went out from the Pole.
Santa was sick, we needed a witch, faerie or troll.
Someone who could substitute and take his route.
The reindeer were on the hunt, the elves were out.
Santa panda flew in on a magic carpet with a loud brag.
I can do better than any faerie or witch, they mostly drag.
North Pole Council took a vote an appointed him for the day.
At midnight he flew off with a cocky smile in Santa’s red sleigh.
The next day, most of the children of the world were sad.
Accusing their mothers, their uncles and maybe their dads.
Of not wanting them to have presents, wails went up to heaven in threes.
For that silly Santa Panda had gotten lost, and was now stuck in two trees.
Let’s throw him in the boxing ring and see what he does.
Come on! You know him, I warned them about our cousin Fuzz.
Fuzz ran out and hugged each opponent and gave some a kiss.
He won’t do at all! Wailed the sports hander, a boxer named Miss.
He said he was bringing her plaid flowers today.
Pandas exaggerate, right? I said to Aunt Fay.
Not this one, he is pretty level-headed and true.
Okay, I said but plaid flowers make sense to you?
I am just saying he has been totally honest, she said.
He comes over every morning at six to be fed.
Why don’t you stick around and you can see for yourself.
Panda walked in that moment and put plaid flowers on the shelf.
Where did you get those? I asked him, with enormous eyes.
Down at the Chinese market, he said. “No big surprise.”
They have everything down there. Give me a request if you want.
I liked him immediately, but went with him to market so I too could hunt.
Hip hop panda is worn out from dancing.
He sits down and sighs, giving no more prancing.
We give him some tips, some pointers and suggestions.
He turns away from us, for he does not like directions.
no one can bake, cook, or grill like pierre panda, someone said.
his recipes are exquisitely tasty, all up in his head.
He learned it from his grandma Maria Marla Maghetti
You should taste his lasagna, French bread and spaghetti!
cooks cuisine like the French, his Italian background imperative.
Pierre’s recipe book is a full-blown in-mind keen narrative
he experiments with oregano, parmesan and cheeses of blue
his bakery is busy, full of tasty pizzas, featuring potato stew.
let’s go there and eat someone suggested to our family.
My father yelled out “how is it going, Pierre Pat P?”
Pierre gave a nod and threw a pepperoni pizza our way.
It was on the house, as he is marrying our auntie May.
A panda, called Amanda
thought she was so much grander;
and ever so much finer
than all the tea in China.
Although a little fatter
(Which did not seem to matter)
than leopard or the monkey;
she was, for sure, less chunky
than mistress trunky trunky;
who had the largest belly
this side of Eastern Delhi.
Amanda lazed, ate bamboo;
sometimes practiced her Kung-Fu
(which didn't make her leaner,
or alter her demeanor).
The panda called Amanda,
knew she was so much grander
than all creatures on the earth,
even with her portly girth.
Help me Mum I'm stuck up this tree,
I thought it was Bamboo I just couldn't see,
It's getting quite windy, so I gripping much tighter,
And I don't want to worry you but my grips getting slighter,
Come and get me Mum and I'll promise I will be a good little Panda,
Well I will be after I've eaten my tea.
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.
My soft panda, you inspire me to write. Indian Summer
How I love the way you call, walk and sleep,
Invading my mind day and through the night, In midst of summer
Always dreaming about the bouncy peep.
You dance away tapping feet
Let me compare you to a quiet pie? Indecent proposal
You are more mortal, yellow and clever.
Light drought dries the old picnics of July, Indifferent disposal
How do I love you? Winter's swing.
I love your feet and personality.
Thinking of your dear fingers fills my days.
My love for you is the partiality your cute ways
Now I must sway with a flouncy heart, Indian Summer
Remember my calm words whilst we're apart In midst of summer
2/2/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2023©
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