The warden's dog steals every snack,
The inmates plot to get them back.
A daring heist for honey buns,
'Til Fluffy wins, and off he runs!
The gym’s a war of flexing might,
Larry claims he’s built for flight.
He jumps, he flaps, he hits the ground,
The weights just watch, they don’t rebound.
The prison chef’s the true enigma,
Serving stew with chunks of stigma.
Was that a bean, or was it glue?
If it still moves—you're doomed too.
Tattoo artist, cellblock legend,
Ink by day, regrets by seven.
An eagle looked so tough and wise,
Now it's a penguin with lazy eyes.
The books are old, the pages torn,
The plot? Confusing since day one.
Billy swears it's full of schemes,
Turns out—just grandma's cookie dreams.
The great escape? Just pure finesse,
Using spoons with zero success.
One guy digs for seven years,
He found a pipe—now he’s in tears.
Lights go out, the stories start,
Tallest tales with zero heart.
"Elvis once lived in this cell!"
Sure, and unicorns patrolled as well.
She said some words and blackbirds cawed
As she stirred her cauldron to a goblin's applaud
Her nose was crooked, her skin was green
As her cackles echoed on Halloween
The Halloween night was filled with gloom
As she patrolled the skies on her trusty broom
She was looking for stragglers, those who lagged behind
Then she'd swoop down and catch them, their fate unkind
The first one she brought back began to scream
But this only made the old hag's eyes gleam
She waved her hand to and fro
And turned him into a crow!
Then off again on her broom she flew
As her cauldron bubbled with a fearsome brew
She saw another straggler dawdling by a gate
She swooped down swiftly to seal his fate
All her victims would scream and scream
Wishing and hoping they were in a dream
10-11-2024
There were two ninjas in the dark
Who lay under sheets
Covered in their linen armour
Safe in servants' courters
There were ninja stars beside beds
Numchucks at hand’s breadth
To wield stealth attack
A forcefield of strength
There were guard dogs as allies
Silent and calm collected
Patrolled with gnarled teeth
Agents of the clan
There were two ninjas in the dark
Who lay under sheets
Quiet and self-restrained
Until window panes did shriek
There were two ninjas on their feet
An assailant was at hand
With much commotion and snarling
Were they at flight to catch that man!
These two ninjas in the dark
Were but brothers trying to sleep
Burglars came to wreak havoc
And that is about the norm…
Its common,
To not want to seem foreign,
The safety net of what's told,
Even though we're controlled,
Somehow we don't see the problem,
Because we're used to being patrolled
Into whatever we're being sold,
Thinking we've found gold.
No.
We're just thinking without a mind of
our own.
McKee Springs petroglyphs
southeast flank of the Ulnta Mountains
twenty-two miles past Quarry Visitor Center
a long ways from Kansas City
take island park Road
it is impassible during wet or winter weather
call and ask before you attempt passage
do not touch the story-telling petroglyphs
they are fragile and irreplaceable
do not trace or rub, you could ruin them
the park is heavily patrolled too
dinosaur remains are visible there also
embedded in the rocks
hinting at earlier civilizations and species
both cultures there to view and visualize as you may
feelings of connectedness with both ancients and dinosaurs
found few places in the continental USA
but found there
Childhood crept through
those long summer days
when the smell of pine
hung in the hot air.
Deep in the shadows
of that besieged acre,
heaven and hell played
out a lethal game
in what crawled, wriggled
or took wing. Death there
was silent and cries
froze in gaping mouths.
Dragonflies patrolled
the boundary
like miniature demons
and in hollows,
mandibles gnawed
on nerves
until the last thread
snapped and let panic loose.
Gowned in finery,
other terrors waited
to welcome fleeing souls
with a fatal sting
or to paralyze the will
and render living flesh
food for offspring.
At night, screams
broke out
and blew across
battlegrounds
to tangle in the thickened
skeins of dreams.
Years on, all have
sunken deeper
and slurried
into a faceless fear.
There are times,
even now,
when you can hear
the sobs of those still
wandering the wastelands
of restless nights
whilst good people sleep.
Mankind is being watched, don’t let down your guard.
A new world is coming and it’s going to come hard.
Life as we know it will forever be changed.
Protect your house and home from the evil and deranged.
We must keep our hearts open and learn from our past.
The sun will return, this long night will not last.
As we walk through the valley patrolled by the reaper.
It’s time to step up and be your brother’s keeper.
With thy rod and thy staff, our faith keeps us strong.
In the shadows of death, with you we belong.
Never again will we fear evil in the night.
With God in our corner, we will fight the good fight.
Evil and tyranny will be laid in their grave.
They will never defeat the home of the brave.
The grass will stay green in the land of the free.
Our trust is in God, and it always will be.
delicate leaf faerie
clothed in naturalness
befriended fox kit once upon a time
his all-knowing amber eyes trusted her
She knew she would never let him down
hypervigilant fox recognized her benevolence
Her empathetic soul spoke to him
there was a mystical connection
together they became a beloved duo
united by their love for the woods
oaks and elms kept their secrets
gentle northern winds whispered to them
other creatures cleared a path
their allegiance recognized and revered
their leaves glistened with joy
delicate leaf faerie
and her trusted companion, fox
patrolled the ancient woods
inspiring unity, listening to ancestral voices
beloved together
The air was pure and bright. A sea-salt tingle
hovered in an easygoing offshore breeze.
In mesmerising rhythm, wavelets sloshed
and swished along the timeworn jetty wall.
The bay was sparkling in the morning light
as early gannets hungrily patrolled
their crystal-clear domain.Slight movement now
within the overnighting boats, safe moored,
serenely sheltered at the break of day.
A swan flotilla, now near fully grown
and all in a row, in silence glided by,
exploring weed and tidal offerings
under a careful matriarchal eye.
The year was moving on, the midges gone,
and still the little ferry ploughed its course
across the bay, its passengers intent
on finding peace and personal content.
The cafe at the pier, with clinking cups,
was heralding the day, with early starters,
few in number now. The summer throng
dispersed and homeward bound, to feed
on memories. For some, like me,
a fitting epitaph might be
“He lived his life in thoughts of Arran “.
A bitter, bitter, bitter, blow,
As Coronavirus shuts down Padstow,
Nurses wear masks and patients wear gowns,
As the global pandemic attacks Cornish towns,
Just a small virus which decides to invade,
Means empty beaches and not much town trade,
With locals afraid they might succumb,
Tourists are told, stay away, do not come,
Once happy throngs in the streets were seen,
Now a ghost-town patrolled by Covid-19,
No ribboned Obby Oss’s parading this year,
No crowds enjoying a pasty with beer,
The fishing boats stay within the harbour wall,
As restaurants stay closed and fish prices fall,
With 20/20 vision and hindsight combined,
Padstow’s ‘new normal’, it will have to find …
As I travel through my hometown Chicago's neighborhoods
There's a comfy, down-home feeling; these places are good
One of the things that makes them this way
is their ethnic character and pride, that make them that way
When roaming through Greektown, through familiar haunts
I spot Greek groceries, bakeries, five-star restaurants
Then on a walking tour of old Chinatown
The Chinese language fills the air, all around
In West Rogers Park, where religious Jews reside
Signs in Hebrew, Kosher markets, doors open
And of course, in Pilsen and Little Village, tortillas, tamales
enchiladas, frajitos -- everything's Mexican, by golly
Yet as I cruise the streets of Chicago's South and West Sides
All the police cars I see have only white folks inside
Is it really too much, I wonder, as I come to a stop
to ask that black avenues be patrolled by black cops
HOWLING DRAGONS
PATROLLED THE SKIES.
IN SEARCH OF BEINGS
WHO RECENTLY DIED.
A BLINDING LIGHT
BEAMED UPON.
ONE MINUTE THEIR THERE
THE NEXT MINUTE GONE.
UNGODLY STENCH
OF ROTTING FLESH.
FILLED THE SKIES,
EVEN ONES BREATH.
LIVING IN DARKNESS
ELECTRICITY'S GONE.
ONE THING FOR SURE
IS THAT EVERYTHING'S WRONG.
CURRENCIES WORTHLESS
THEY BARTER OR TRADE.
THAT IS HOW,
THEIR MEALS ARE MADE.
VEGGIES AND SPICES,
EXTREMELY RARE.
YET NINE OUT OF TEN,
PEOPLE DON'T CARE.
PEOPLE ARE DESPERATE
AND LIFE IS IN DIRE.
PROTESTERS RUN,
THROUGH THE STREETS WHILE ON FIRE.
THE NEW WORLD GOVERNMENT
VACCINED THEM ALL.
I STAND HERE HELPLESS
WATCHING THEM FALL.
VOMIT AND BILE
COVER THE STREETS.
HOMELESS AND CHILDREN
WITH NO SHOES ON THERE FEET.
RANTING AND RAVING
THEY'RE LOSING THEIR MINDS.
ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT
AND ALL OF THE TIME.
THIS IS GROUND ZERO.
THE END OF THE LINE.
FOR ONE AND ALL,
JUST A MATTER OF TIME.
CONDITIONED FOOLS
THEY WERE LED TO BELIEVE.
I DON'T THINK THEY REALIZE
THEY WERE DECEIVED.
04012020
It is hard to walk in the sand especially with boots and a heavy rifle.
Manuel and I would sit on a rock and watch the moon give birth to
a distant blue Africa.
Franco's Guardia Civil were not all thugs. A few were poets.
Manuel's father had worshiped the general and had blessed
the day Guernica 'that Marxist nest' had been flattened.
That was decades before he was born, yet Manuel still patrolled
the beach, weaving between sunbathing tourist seeking nonexistent saboteurs.
On his rounds the young conscript fell in love - often, but in winter
(when his sneering corporal was away), he would sit in the bar,
tongue curled like a snail shell, dedicating lurid hyperbole
to every female foreigner that had smiled at him, and to all
the Catalan girls that never did.
That night the moon seemed to translate for us.
He asked me earnestly:
if I thought Franco would ever lift the ban on bikini's?
"Never!" I replied, "The Pope and the Rightists are against it."
Manuel rose and shuffled sadly away, his rifle dragging on the sand.
That night the moon came close, to bask on Manuel’s beach,
and she without a stitch of cloud-cover over her matronly form.
I had a dog way back when
With white teeth and tail a wag
He slept so fine in steepled den
Crunched on a chicken, like a rag
With eyes of brown, and fur of black
Patrolled the farm, a canine cop
The silly cats he would attack
And barking noise should never stop
One snowy day he disappeared
Walking a road he often trod
Did not return, as I feared
Where was my dog? I asked God
Then one night, I heard him bark
My friend returned in pitch dark
BOLD BUCCANEER
A wicked and bold buccaneer,
Patrolled the high seas with no fear.
The kings excise men
Tried time and again,
But never got anywhere near
9th April 2019
Pirate themed limerick contest
Sponsor - Tania Kitchin
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