If I were a recklessly raucous raccoon
I’d stealthily move as thrushes fly by
I’d try my best to reach for the moon
I’d continue my quest as wood pigeons croon
Determined to access the clear evening sky
If I were a recklessly raucous raccoon
Might I access the stars on a hot air balloon?
Or climb up a pole long enough to get by?
I’d try my best to reach for the moon
I dare not reveal my cause too soon
Lest the wise owls challenge, asking me why
If I were a recklessly raucous raccoon
“Fifteen minutes of fame” you’ll likely assume
Why not root for me instead of decry?
I’d try my best to reach for the moon
Then all will strike up a victory tune
‘Trash Panda’ no longer as in days gone by
If I were a recklessly raucous raccoon
I’d try my best to reach for the moon
DID NOT HAVE A DIME
LIQUOR STORE BREAKDOWN IN A CRIME
BUT WILL DO NO TIME
Written: November 02, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Charles Messina
**********
The man in the elevator wore a nimbus atop his head,
He claimed he was a janiform—half genius, half dead.
A cheerful opsimath mastered the art of juggling spoons,
While humming mellifluous tunes to passing raccoons.
His nickname was “Treacle Tom,” but no one knew why,
He adorned his socks with jelly beans and icy pumpkin pie.
With rhythmic bursts, he danced as a lively sprite.
And gave a lecture on narcolepsy at every traffic light.
Once sipping lifeless tea, he felt a sudden revelation,
That the spirit resembled a rodent caught in vibration.
Though noisome in aroma, his charm was at its zenith—
Could the man in the elevator be a legend or merely a myth?
One Couple Of Days Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina
Contest Judged: 10/29/2025 5:12:00 AM
( 2nd Place )
Written: October 8, 2025
One couple of days, the moon wore a hat,
and chairs went for walks with a cat in a spat.
They danced on the rooftops, they sang with a spoon,
while clocks told the tales of a flying raccoon.
Umbrellas drank tea in the middle of June,
and spoons held a meeting to debate with a tune.
A jellybean king rode a unicycle fast,
through spaghetti-filled rivers that ran to the past.
what do they call her? I wondered as she strutted around
showing off her curly tail, teasing every cat and hound.
Wearing a fancy hat, and a jazzy scarf with plaid too.
I call her high society pig, said my cousin Little Lou.
Hawaii is the place, raccoon decided, loving the idea of course
He sold his farm, plow, tractor, combine, goats, pigs and horse
Ran to Hawaii to sit on a pink beach and enjoy the sand
He said to his mixed drink, I have found the promised land!
The mixed drink began laughing and could not stop.
You have not seen the prices here, he said. They are at the top.
You should have waited until summer and bought a flowered shirt.
And stayed in Illinois where the houses are as cheap as dirt.
sunday at grandmas
big hubbub in the kitchen
raccoon intruder
he rummages through my trash at night
scurrying off in mist of daybreak
I rarely catch his masked face,
but sometimes glimpse his striped tail
he brings the family, they scavenge together
slapping each other when a cracker is larger than another
I watch them and laugh, they are entertaining
my woodland raccoons
I was walking the other morning as I do most every day
when up ahead I saw a car stop in the middle of the street…then quickly drive away.
I didn’t think much about this as I was enjoying the stars, the planets and the moon
until I realized that car…had run over a raccoon.
I thought it was just a cat sleeping in the road…
(on my morning walk this is something I often see)
until she raised her head as I walked by and that raccoon looked up at me.
Never approach a wild animal is a rule to which I steadfastly adhere
but something in her eyes told me there was nothing for me to fear.
I knelt down in the street next her…told her I’d sit with her a while
and as she laid her head back on the street…I think I saw her smile.
Within minutes she closed her eyes, stopped breathing
and that morning just before the dawn
as tears fell from my eyes I knew that she was gone.
I couldn’t do anything to save her when I found her lying out there on her own
but I was glad I came along and she did not die alone.
Once again nature gives us a lesson she’s hoping we all will heed
how sometimes in life and death…a little comfort is all we ever need.
I sit on your garbage can and fiddle with a knob
Your back door shakes a bit, I search for a corn cob
Smash goes the lid to your aluminum garbage can
I am the man, I think now, I am the man!
You are in your kitchen, terrified to see that knob
Slowly move back and forth; my cousin has the corn cob
Fighting ensues, we slap each other and screech
You call the cops. They send out Officer Leech.
Purple raccoon decided to plan a surprise party.
He asked me for my advice, all hale and hearty.
Then I discovered it was for me, he is no smarty.
Is it a surprise? I asked. He nodded. A surprise party.
I thought Santa wore red, the crow said to the owl.
Regular Santa, but this is raccoon Santa, the owl hooted.
What does that mean?
Watch and learn.
In a few minutes raccoons began following Blue Santa.
His costume was trimmed with white fur, but it was periwinkle.
Almost a purple blue.
The raccoons followed him to the middle of the pasture.
He opened his bag and began tossing out sugar cookies.
They caught them in their paws and squealed with delight.
Licking the frosting and slurping like piglets.
Raccoon Santa! Whoever heard of such a thing? Crow said.
Now you have said Owl. He flew forward as Blue Santa tossed crackers.
Crow flew in and snagged a couple himself.
Best Christmas Eve ever!
Always together, they played
Never alone, lost or afraid,
They trudged through the woods
And all the surrounding neighborhoods,
Piercing the darkness with shiny flames,
Their eyes never revealing their names.
Always together, they delighted
In the games – wonderfully excited,
They plodded on through the night
Beneath stars and moon so bright
Carefully seeking the best garbage cans,
With paws that were suitable for hands
Always together, they embarked
On trails and tracks – some unmarked
Reaching for the best trash to consume
Knowing that later they’d need to groom
Together, they robbed every community
Raiding the trash at each opportunity!
These bandits from the woods where flowers
Adorn their woodsy lands thru rain showers
Children Sing to Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
March 25, 2023
Roary Raccoon was dazzling in his orange banded witch’s hat.
Are you now a warlock? Asked his nemesis, Mr. Busybody Cat..
Roary’s loud sigh was not enough hint for this big buffoon.
Whose yowling is annoying every night next to the moon.
I am a stylish raccoon, Roary informed him in his plain way.
I can be an astronaut, physicist or physician any old day.
This hat does not make me a warlock, you fuddy fiddle fee.
Please take your busybody habits with you far away from me.
Jerico the raccoon lived in the land of cherry blossom buds.
He enjoyed his corn, spaghetti, and well-cheesed up spuds.
His flatulence had a marvelous effect on the flowers so bright.
An aroma that stayed with these beauties all through the night.
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