Short Trixie Poems

Trixie is stranded
Imagination island
shut down and locked up...

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Trixie
my muse
torments daily
waking me up at three am

Trixie
my muse
ignores my meager attempts at domination
For she is the queen of us...

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with gorgeous ginger hair and Celtic eyes
She comes to shake me, make me rise
my muse is Trixie, persistent and keen
she gives me words in my dream sheen...

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Fairy lights twinkle among mushrooms gold
Brownies and elves come out to give us a look.
Trixie and I are now on the hook.
Please put our imaginations on hold....

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There's a Muse to know Caren calls Trixie
Invisible -- but seems like a pixie
   She motivates Caren
   Who's creatively darin'
And I ain't just a-whistlin' Dixie...

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If I could design my garden pests, I would have pink tobacco hornworms
Rainbow striped lady bugs, and bees carrying dusters instead of stingers
The faeries would wipe their feet on my dahlias and call me Trixie...

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Caren K sure makes me giggle ~ When Trixie pulls her nose, it wiggles



                                   January 12, 2021
                            Tease a Friend Poetry Contest
                                  Sponsor: Bobby May...

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Framp town graces ring a wrong
Rooh Dah Roo Dah
Gramp down laces sling a thong
Oh Roo Rah Ray!

My eyes pop open
I am disoriented
I stumble 
My knee hits a chair

It twirls
Finally reach the door
Hear Trixie my muse laugh
She loves waking me up...

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Purple unicorns prance into my mind
Polishing up ideas
Worthy of a princess

Followed by kittens wearing toothbrush hats
With smeary feline smiles
Diabolical laughs

Trixie takes over immediately
Pirate queen gives them the boot
She is ready to play!...

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Trixie is insisting on a hyphenated name.
Okay, I say. Let me get a pencil. She insists on a pen.
That one is blue ink, she says. I want you to use black.
The most demanding muse ever.
I do what I can to comply, so she will stop with the demands.
Where is my car? She asks....

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Serendipity rounded the corner on two wheels
Screeching and shuddering as she attempted to wake me
Trixie my persnickety muse lulled me back to sleep with dream drops.
I woke up in a panic ten minutes later 
Again hearing the ending line of the best poem ever
Forgotten again today...

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Simple or fancy? Sordid or prance-y?
Lily or roses? Tiptoes on proses?
What kind of poem will my mind see today?
What will happen if I stop to pray?

Trixie, my muse, is laughing right now.
She has no idea the when or the how.
But when she comes full force into the fray
Poetry to my day is pure play…....

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Amazon delivery man tiptoes up driveway
Pretends to not notice my zebra pajamas
When he stumbles over ordinary words
I feel a bit of satisfaction that he cares more than I do.

Finally I am entirely non-socialized.
This was a long time coming.
Trixie, my muse, and I high-five each other.
Glad to finally be “us”....

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The  Rioteer



There was a rioteeering lady named Trixie,

Who with folks of her kind liked to mixy.

With bats and rocks she headed out,

To hit an officer in his snout.

She now does time in a jail cell in Dixie!



                    June 3, 2020
                     9:15am PST
                    Poem # 2017...

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decidedly despicable dastardly diabolical Dan
doing dismal, dour, demeaning deeds to frantic Fran
Forever frenzied fickle Felicity found her man.
Morose monochromatic Mel molding Typan.
Trixie totally tanked telephoning Tim’s tan.
Smart smidgets sensed silliness by name of Nan.
Nefarious, neatnik Nan ended up with diabolical Dan....

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My imagination plays
I lie around watching
Not caring though
Not terribly concerned

Not rushing anything
Letting my muse Trixie have her way
I do not involve myself
Until the rewrites anyway

She is yelling at imagination now
Using her drill sergeant voice
Making it give her one hundred percent
I turn over and go back to sleep...

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I know what is best for me


Artsy and creative I am, you see
My imagination is always on fire


Trixie, my muse has a duty to inspire
Hold your ideas; they are yours alone
Enthusiasm helps me with my poem


Offensive it is to be told what to do
Never boss me, or we will be through
Everyone else can keep their own thoughts too...

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I won’t write, I tell my muse. I refuse.
She laughs at my won'ts, my cant's and my do’s.
Most know Trixie; she brazenly dictates to me.
She is puling my strings, never letting me be.

I’m serious, I say. She laughs at my plight.
She forces me to stay awake most of the night.
Magnificent poems climb into my head.
Trixie will tell me when I can go to bed....

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I am on a writing wonder roll today
I credit the sun with a hip hip hooray!
Trixie is on spring break far far away
We are glad for she deserves an hour and a day.

Her cousin Adeline came to help me a bit.
But I argued with her first idea, and she had a fit.
She marched off mad, in a ridiculous childish snit.
How much more persnickety can a sub-muse get?...

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My imagination gloats in the sun
My muses come forth, I have more than one.
Trixie, their director, lands on her bun.
Other muses titter, thinking it is fun.

They do not know the routine of this almost Hun.
I try to warn them, but their laughing is not done.
When Trixie gets up I yell to them “BETTER RUN!”
They get it and scatter running out toward the sun....

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My imagination’s imagination is alive.
I take two steps backward
and let them both dance with my muse, Trixie.

They all three end up laughing.
I figure it is at my expense.
They are growling, snapping, flipping, now.

I take another step backward.
Prepare to run.
They snatch me up.

Toss me into the air.
I land on the ceiling fan.
Time to begin! Trixie says....

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I stare at the page
words appear suddenly
my fingers are typing
but my mind is not engaged

where is this coming from?
I have no idea
the clicking surprises me
every single time

am I channeling spirit?
is my muse an ethereal entity?
Is her real name Trixie?
questions come rapidly into my head

I hear a giggle
it’s my muse
she is delighted
that I am finally figuring it out...

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She is a symmetrical faerie
Weird for a painting of mine.
I like my subjects lopsided.
Upside down or topsy turvey is okay too.

Who drew this one? I ask Pixie.
Pixie is my painting muse.
She is Trixie’s cousin
She has attitude 

Pixie puts her hands behind her back
Twists her waist back and forth
She looks like an impish six-year-old.
Like Trixie and I, she can never play poker...

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titters and whispers of the evening
elusive to my conscious mind
bantering and laughter

they make fun of my nightly death
Trixie is the main conspirator
I am out of body, floating 

Dare each other to give me the best line ever
I hear it upon awakening
in that ending of a poem voice

best poem ever.
I leap out of bed.
Have to bathroom before it is gone.

Too late. Damned muses tittering....

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A Trixie Belden Mystery Novel!
lost in the bowels of the closet
Opened the missive slowly.

Felt like coming home
Smell you can get nowhere else
From nothing else
Wafted into my nostrils.

The smell of an old friend, 
A book from my childhood
It is not found in any sprays or candles.

Cannot be duplicated, replicated or even hinted at.
The smell of an old, familiar, wonderful childhood book....

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