Shenanigans and poppycock -
the wild wood with unrest.
Will amazon deliver the chest
of acorns and walnuts before Winter sets?
On their “I” phones, those with bushy tails
don’t want to work for nibbles. Kips,
after a long, long, long day of texting,
waiting, shopping. Others hoard or steal
those treasure troves from every tree.
Collectibles, particularly nasty -
why would a little squirrel want a Barbie,
when a grownup can buy out and store
each box, in perfect shape, for a decade?
“Play with your phone, little kitten.”
Shenanigans and poppycock,
finger-licking goodness of ‘rents,
loving the kits with abominable gifts.
11/15/2022
Contest: THE CRAP SHOOT #2
Sponsor: John Lawless
In the realm of poppycock sidewalks sing
When stepping on melodies in the cracks,
You’ll enjoy the height of the smallest thing
The exotic ponies with pink-striped backs.
Beware the cows returning from the moon
Loving brown bears will cuddle with you,
The sweetest hymn is the song of the loon,
For everything here is an imagination zoo.
Hills are covered with marshmallow plants
Mules dance in the street just for sheer fun
Both boys and girls wear polka-dotted pants,
And all the richest folks have money none.
The bakers bake cookies at breakneck speed
While trains run on tracks made of candy,
No one, not a single person ever has a need
All who live here think everything’s dandy!
In Poppycock you can believe what you hear
For fact and fancy are all mixed together,
Since every hour the clock chimes a cheer
And all is perfect … even the weather.
Written July 28, 2022
A nether world of pirates, pixies, and palaces
No passport needed in the land of poppycock
A rich imagination swirling about in one’s head
The pink unicorn, a chip off its father’s old block
Peaceful creatures living together without fear
Where streets are forever marshmallow white
The seasons come and go without repetition
And when something’s done, it’s done right.
A nether world of pirates, pixies, and palaces
No need to scale a brick wall to gain admission
Lots of polka-dotted elephants to ride to and fro
Entrance to everything is ticket-free, no permission,
Whatever you want to try is available for a wish
Skills are welcomed, maybe, you dance a soft shoe
The sky is the limit, I am told rainbows abound in
This lovely place where, I'm told, a pig really flew.
EIGHTH PLACE WINNER
Written May 20, 2022
submitted to "2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9 Poetry Contest"
sponsored by Mark Toney
I'd rather owe it to you than cheat you out of it
never loan money it never returns
If you do the same thing over and over
you're in your comfort zone
Fences make good neighbors
a thirty-foot wall makes them better
You have to break eggs to make an omelet
milk a cow so we can add some cheese
Little white lies are nicer than the raw truth
explains that twenty-two trillion national debt
We can always remain, friends
loan me twenty-two trillion dollars
It is better to give than to receive
only if your the receiver and not the giver
You're only as old as you feel
thank you, Methuselah
I feel like crap
you smell like it too
Smile and the world smiles with you
it is lonely in my padded cell
Somethings are best unsaid
Poppycock!
If you walk the walk and talk the talk, surely people will gawk
Especially if you're a male wearing jockeys chanting in ancient dialogue
Must realize it's out of the norm
As strange wee animals swarm
Guess people aren't ready for tomorrow's poppycock
Ole Poppycock said the British clock maker.
While setting his alarm clock which was the building block
of his foundation.He purchased penny stock at four o'clock
and future stock on Wall Street today.
Ole Poppycock said the Dutch soda drink maker.
George Washington did not cut down the Cherry Tree.
He placed a cuckoo clock under the chopping block,
and becasue of a culture shock purchased New York Common stock,
at the stock exchange today.
Ole Poppycock said the British Law Maker.
You're only trying to make me the laughingstock of London.
Place your pig's belly on the butcher-block,and play me some acid rock,
before we experience another earthquake aftershock.
Sign your John Hancock and be on your way.
Nonsense Poetry by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2016..ALL rights reserved.