I remember
when we were just little kids
we always spent the afternoon together
every year
like a pair of clubs and spades
at the holiday carnival
cruising The Paratrooper
as fast as a drop of a coin
masticating on heaps
of salted buttered popcorn
with steaming pepperoni pizzas
and cotton candy both pink and blue
saccharine and light as cirrus clouds
until our bellies erupted
splashy rainbows from
our lurid, esophageal dungeon
like two offbeat carnival kids
living up the holiday fun
interesting
attractive, splashy
gripping, fascinating, exciting
concert, comedian, tax prep, silence
tiring, drudging, discouraging
tedious, humdrum
boring
"What are you all quacking about?" squawked Reginald Cluck,
Peering from his coop, quite out of luck.
A drizzle had started, a timid, soft weep,
While others still snoozed in feathery sleep.
"A little rain never hurt anyone!" chirped Pip,
Whose splash-prone spirit rarely would slip.
He’d eye every puddle, a shimmering pond,
With a gleam in his eye, quite remarkably fond.
Reginald scoffed, adjusted his comb,
"Such soggy affairs! I prefer my dry home."
He’d seen the contest poster, a splashy delight,
But preferred his reflections, all polished and bright.
Then a gust, unexpected, a mischievous sigh,
Tumbled Reginald forward, right under the sky.
He landed with grace, in a puddle so grand,
A most dignified splish across the wet land.
His feathers, now plastered, his dignity skewed,
He blinked at his image, delightfully new.
"Let's do the chicken splash!" he suddenly cried,
As the "Mystic Rose" whispered, "Don't hide your wet side!"
And so Reginald Cluck, once a skeptic so stiff,
Discovered true joy in that watery whiff.
He kicked up a fountain, a most glorious spray,
Proof that a puddle can brighten your day.
Did the ocean try to dry its splashy face?
Did mountains brush off dusty, grassy trace?
Did the ground hide softly from the rainy days?
Did the wind play statue at morning's crystal maze?
Did planets wear funny costumes, just in case?
Let your own glory glitter, like fireflies' wobbly space!
Those were times when I believed everything.
You seemed to me a treasure of delight.
Your presence, for me, was a blissful spring
Often amidst rainbow clouds, I took flight.
I said I'd bring you the sun, moon, and stars.
You said you'd lull me in your long love waves
Your fancies filled my passion's empty jars
To our mirages had we become slaves?
Were your toothpaste smiles splashy soap bubbles?
Were those goody-goody words bright balloons?
Did you think too that I'd end your troubles?
We couldn't dance to each other's tunes.
Our promises had been castles on sand.
Realizing, let's now walk hand in hand.
Laura's Halloween gown was exquisitely done
with sequins and pearls, all kinds of fun
queen of ball on October thirty-first
She was so gorgeous, her pride nearly burst
Tried not to look pompous, but it was hard.
Songs written about her by many a bard.
splashy and flashy, a flawless beauty.
her escort led her in the parade, his civic duty.
The rain is singing
Soaking the leafy terrain
With splashy songs of puddles
The sun is smiling
Spreading a golden kindness
Through its glazed misty snuggles
Blue
Waves
usher
ocean dream
enchanting ripples,
whose hypnotic spell oozes charm,
for yellow dawn pearl-eyed first light riser’s coastal fog,
stunned by the heavenly turquoise canvass of tidal moss fleck swoon and swirl gyrations
On
shore
visions
magic sweep
splashy catalyst
at the cusp of exotic veil
uncanny blissful streams tantalising ebb and flow
a lure for august swimmer mesmerised by mammoth currents awash with silver froth
Gust
of
saline
grain torrents
that skim cliff edges
taunt emboldened in situ bard,
where farsighted jostling amid picturesque quaint beach,
spurs bright imaginary floodgates, a deluge of opulent visual fantasm
Baby cat with happy meows, gentle mews and splashy spots
We love your happiness for you remind us of our baby tots
When we see you, we do not think of Halloween, we think of glee.
When you decide to teach how to be joyful lessons, please think of me.
From steppes remote
luxurious mink coats
Fine leather boots
tailored suits
Fancy shoppes
five-star hotels
Back of splashy nightclubs
exclusive brothels
Rolls-Royces
and Bentleys
S-t-r-e-t-c-h ... L-i-m-o-u-s-i-n-e-s
cafes serving the finest cuisine
Wide-eyed with wonder
passersby gape
Dreams of Fifth Avenue
from tottering fire escapes
(tongue-in-cheek humor)
I understand there is a lawsuit, doc # 666, Neptune vs. Jersey. Apparently, windmills being put in the ocean off the Jersey coast was all done without consultation and approval by the Sea Council – who clam (ocean slang for claim) guardians of the sea coast, Loan Sharks, were paid by politicians to keep usually open mouths shut, and therefore the project went forward without public digest (a form of shoreline debate). Salacia, Poseidon, Neptune, and other overlords have their fins in a tizzy, equally upset about gender changing surgery being suggested to school fish pupils by gender fluid teachers also causing quite an uproar within the shallows and depths – stay tuned to the Splashy, your Prime Time Ocean News Network. This is written tongue-in-cheek, and any resemblance to real people or places is accidental and unintended. No truth in any of this to my knowledge.
One slushy day, a Jolly fisher fishes
a wishing well, where he knows splashy fish is.
For Princess Tricia's favourite dish is,
a plate of little squishy fresh whitefishes;
and Tricia gets all she ever wishes.
Too selfy selfish to accept shellfishes,
Dogfish, Catfish, or even some Swordfishes;
and despite her mother's pushy tisch tisch tisches,
a plate of little squishy fresh whitefishes,
is all that Princes Tricia ever wishes.
The dashing, raffish, jolly fisher's wish is
by fishing for the squishy fresh whitefishes,
surely he should switch Tricia's fishy wishes;
then introduce and show some swisher dishes.
A Jolly Fisherman Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Date wrote: 8th September 2022
sparkling sprinkling splashy sizzling serendipity with sass,
practically parachuting, popularity surpassing prime’s overpass
bibbity bobbity boo beyond belief, begetting bionic bass,
making mysterious melody in my mind’s mass
while full blooms quiver
cool waves are pounding the rocks
stars are in her eyes
backwards and forwards
the wind wanders everywhere
bringing far off scents
small splashy puddles
remnants of a rainy noon
moisture in the air
he catches her eye
then he smiles at her and winks
a spring flirtation
sunset's bright sky show
red swathe, big Broadway splashy
night's rise, second act
Haiku revised: January 27, 2021
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