My feisty Yorkie, who has a bag of personality,
Got hold of my last roll of toilet paper.
Attacking brutally, mauling half the roll.
Paper confetti flew around as it paraded, looking gratified.
her make up could have been much finer
the powder accented her purple eyeliner
she paraded past a farmer and a miner
is that make up or does she have a shiner?
Yes at thirteen, if you’re not a forty-niner
You don’t need your under eyes to have black eyeliner
But we do not say anything, because thirteen is a whiner
At supper we all keep our mouths shut at the clown-like diner
Breathlessly breezy and brave
Ulyssa blew pink bubbles into the air
Bouncy bulbous beasts that paraded pink prettiness
Beauteous flowers in her hair looked on with glee
Lovely, luxurious, lingering billowing bubbles
Exiting the atmosphere, heading for the beyond
Gracious and graceful, she begins to pen her memoirs
Ulyssa, my cousin, my friend, my neighbor
My inspiration, a woman of integrity filled with love
The Hollow Toll of Hell
Old witch plucked out every hair
To weave her wicked snares.
But a deal demands a spirit pure,
And hers was beyond repair.
She traded a thumb, she traded an eye,
Yet still she paraded on
Seeking the key for the gate, the hidden escape,
Before the rise of dawn.
With nothing left of flesh or bone,
No gold left to toll,
She reached the brink and paid the price:
The sale of her hollow soul.
pretend pumpkin, faux witch, ghastly ghost and mummy
paraded through Halloween’s trick-or-treat with a dummy
Not a person, but rather a frightening, freaky doll
they used it to make their demands sound less small
Our child needs candy, they would say to each host
Especially good at a pleading voice was the ghastly ghost
the doll was a prop they probably did not need
because along the way they found Johnny Appleseed
Johnny Appleseed was a hit at every house they hit
He told caramel apple stories, that helped a bit.
“Trick or treat” they sang in unison, friends for life.
Collecting sweet candy without worry or strife.
Dracula cats were in the alley that night
they had died in the fifties, and were quite a sight
the rest of the felines were terrified of them
they are devil worshippers, said my cousin Clem
I had no idea if this was true or not
But they looked evil to me, said my Aunt Polka Dot
I got a bad vibe from them both and refused to come out
They paraded up and down the alley, dancing all about.
Referred to as but of one
Wears, for both, outmoded
Forms on its stage
Through dress and speech, casual
What's paraded and proud
'The shameless Age'.
I used to feel trapped inside of these walls
the locks used to glisten on all of the doors.
I dreamt of the night I’d get away
how I’d jump in the cab, no more to say.
The city was bright, quickly turned grey
I watched the light fade, day by day
I lived in the dark, slept through the shine
I denied that I’d seen all of the signs.
But soon after it came, the smoke then the flames
that no mind twisting could put out.
I jumped to the ground, it passed through the town and in my own tears I would drown.
While there was great concern over my return
I’d arrived with my feet on the ground.
The sun again shone, my friends hadn’t gone and best wishes paraded around.
Now I sit with my pen
again and again, thank god for the tears of those days.
They taught me a lesson, with no means of threaten and I’m no longer locked in a cage.
Rain still comes under new umbrellas, so don’t throw what you know away.
fancy schmancy corgi Nancy
Dressed all up, and acted prancy
with floral tattoos on her pretty hips
she paraded around in bleeps and blips
Who does she think she is? Asked Bean.
She is the queen, she is the queen.
Nancy nodded, her fur all bright with gleam.
Her parents smiled, she was their sunbeam.
Shabby chic was her style
she paraded proud for all to see
~ work of art in motion
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Collops of fat line the tables of the few,
while the many stretch hands toward empty plates.
Skyscrapers rise in the capital,
yet in the villages, children bend under jerrycans,
walking miles for a sip of muddy water.
The economy grows, they say—
percentages polished and paraded—
but the growth is stored in vaults,
not in classrooms with broken desks,
not in hospitals without medicine,
not in the pockets of the farmer who tills red soil for nothing.
Every election season,
collops of fat are dangled like bait—
T-shirts, soap, envelopes,
promises swollen with grease,
but never nourishment for tomorrow.
The youth, restless, crowd into boda stages,
degrees folded in pockets,
dreams reduced to dust by unemployment.
Markets overflow with speeches,
but not with buyers.
Streets fill with posters,
but not with jobs.
Uganda’s wealth pools in corners,
thick, congealed, unreachable.
The nation limps,
while a few grow heavier, rounder,
their laughter echoing across gated compounds.
Collops of fat—
the evidence of excess,
the proof of imbalance,
the weight carried not by those who eat,
but by those who starve.
something is under the wheelbarrow today
It moved up in the air in a weird way
a monkey? a squirrel? tiger or bear?
a faerie queen with gobs of sparkly green hair?
the wheelbarrow moved ever so slightly
whatever it is, can I afford to take it lightly?
what if it is a kitten, a bird or a large puppy?
a whale? a shark? or perhaps a teensy guppy?
the green wheelbarrow started to shiver and shake.
this is a real story, true all the way through, not a bit fake.
a column of red fire ants paraded out, a thousand in all.
proud and fierce, all puffed up, with lots of gall.
Then a snake, a whale, a dolphin, and a baboon.
They brought with them a storm and a little monsoon.
I stared at it amazed, wondering what else would come out.
My husband was the last one, and he gave a big shout.
There once was a clown
who paraded around town
he thought the world of himself
and liked everything to be top shelf
He bought himself a mannequin
he married her no panickin'
soon his humour was delirious
his motives as mysterious
He found himself a throne
and claimed it as his own
he put a crown upon his stead
to cover his bald head
He started waving a magic wand
expecting everyone to respond
his orders grew bizarre by the hour
when he demanded a brand new tower
They moved his throne up to the top
hoping the insanity would stop
but no it seemed it wasn't to be so
then tumbling down they made him go.
AP: 1st place 2025
I feel dissected and mutilated. Strung up on a cross and paraded through endless eyes.
Nested in the cat’s cradle
Paraded in a child’s fable
I have no voice, don’t let me die
No longer shall I live a lie
I have no soul nor thoughts to save
Unbeknownst to me is
this life beyond the grave?
A designer dainty as she
silky essence she creeps upon so free
and with sheer elegance
unveils a painted lady in a trance
Wake me before the dream ends
In this a lie I can’t depend
Ochre paint splat on walls
Tinted forewings so not to fall
Hindwings I hold up in pain
Fragile chitin, scales, and veins
Bleeding strokes of mango chutney
Opera gloves cobalt blue, cloak impunity
Wake me up! Before I drop
Still asleep, a standing prop
And when I open my eyes
I’ll have wings like butterflies
The bitter truth sounds insane
Blends of electronic elements
Mesh makes perfect sense distasteful
Nestled neatly prim and graceful
Kept in the dark where it’s unfair
Wake me lest I vanish in thin air
In my dream a translucent permanence
I stand alone and have woken an evanescence
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