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Boggle
Blow down the snozzle
this windy wild world
is nowt but a hornswoggle.
Giddy are the blue birds
in head and heart,
blithered are the bush-beating
snit-shifters.
A good day to die and live again,
a day for tripping a bright bombastic.
A yet better day
for some nonsensical boggle
that wags words in a
beery muddle.
Fluffy are the puffy footloose
that skip well over a plushy clover,
great the laughter of children
that dance in the minding eye
of an everlasting God today.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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