Strike a match light a fire eliminate the dark
Have a dance sing a song give your life some spark
Share a laugh have some fun life will be a lark
Join with friends join with family gather somewhere in a park
Walk the street, to the beat that's in your head
Grab a partner, swing her round to the music that's been fed
Have much fun have much joy, tonight it's later into bed
Off to sleep. dreaming romantic words that have been said
Now betrothed both determined to do it all in style
The day has now come walk together down the aisle
Honeymoon a riverboat let's go sailing down the Nile
Now you're planning for a family there'll be children in a while
Now it's time to reminisce how quickly years go by
Suddenly there are grand children for whom you sing a lullaby
Playing games all together whilst still feeling rather spry
Another life is nearing, we can't deny no matter how hard we try
Make the most of every instance make the most of every day
Deliver and receive all the love that comes your way
Let peace love and harmony surround the world without delay
A better future for ours and others families, let us hope and pray
Watch dazzling sunrise emerge from its surreal cocoon,
Engage with cordial citizens who ooze spry radiant charm,
Applaud droll comic town brazen banter on zigzag pavement,
Vivid vermillion hydrant spewing mint cool water on,
Effervescent footslogger’s fiery life thirst seldom slaked
spry cat plays with toy
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
A fireboat goes zipping by;
A seaplane glides across the sky.
Not many folks around, but I
Am glad to be outside.
A group of sparrows swoop and fly
While joggers, on a runner’s high,
Race past, as, with a saddish sigh,
Some elders must decide
If they should sit or maybe try
To push ahead, no longer spry.
I understand their reasons why,
The past a faulty guide.
The ferry empties. Rules apply
For disembarking; most comply.
My time for heading home is nigh,
My food for thought supplied.
Grounds for sound. optimism, I revere,
cast your silken innate spell my dear,
boundless acts of kindness so sincere,
watch for gentle soul who may appear,
with courage, charm that neighbour near,
raise your voice eschew or shun that jeer,
heartfelt gesture never has a false veneer,
spinner of dawn bird chirp word a career,
they stress pure goodness without fear,
one prompt with praise, loathe to sneer,
from january first to close of calender year,
on another slant or somewhat bright frontier,
haunting scenic fare layer on layer, tier on tier,
divine vision when observing life on a pier,
omens shine everywhere just gaze and peer,
the poet, writer, playwright in their sphere,
duty bound as spry warm tidings pamphleteer,
blissful world not difficult at all to engineer,
me, torch bearer, spirited, jovial, zestful top gear,
my monorhymes might buttress a well-disposed ear.
why is he so shy?
he is such a lovely guy
ideas are barren and dry
see how high he can fly?
we looked up into the sky
ghost boy had just said good-bye
tiny like a butterfly
our shy cousin, small fry
I felt a teeny tear in my eye
my body gave a gentle sigh
ghost boy is lithe and spry
goodbye he yelled good-bye, good-bye!
gave me a thumbs up on my lemon pie
his appreciation made me cry
all emotions toward him I multiply
I love him so, I cannot lie!
Nature's, autumn-layed
If befoul, I
These, its rooms, a child, across
Dashing, and spry
Tis with a mother's
Laughing consent.
Down through each shook treed rafter
Gustily sent.
I’d grown tired of Poe’s bells, having heard them diurnally,
until the birds performed on the rooftop.
—by Poet
The Soaring of the Bells
His wings swing to and fro; sonorous tweets
On top of the roof triangle.
Lifts, he floats, off tippy-top with tolling sweets.
Church bell in expectant jangle.
Do villagers notice what a poet holds dear?
She witnesses from the right angle.
Melancholia becomes a cherubim cheer.
Two small birds, now, ding-dong like a bell.
I’ll treasure this moment as a souvenir.
I’ve heard many a steeple song; all’s not well,
But the winged couple is merry.
A spry Disney-like dance with each decibel.
The soaring of the bells, a dulcet cherry.
A feather pen, in my eye pocket I carry.
Glide and fly high,
Dragonfly sky,
Silent and spry.
Wings very light
Colors not bright,
A twinkling sight.
Skim atop streams,
Catching the gleam,
Aerial dream.
Dart and spinning
Swoop and winning,
Graceful within.
Warm sunny rays,
Lazy warm days,
That golden haze.
I admire you,
Touch nature’s hue,
So right so true.
Many things in my yard are no longer needed
faded oversized plastic bat for a toddler batter
green wheelbarrow which I have tried to give away twice
two small seated chairs for tiny bottoms
a cat house the cat never liked
children’s plastic picnic table
I am spry enough today to drag this stuff to my dumpster
But in five years will I be ambulatory?
I think about all the wood ticks lying in wait
ready to jump on me between here and the dumpster
This looks like a job for grandchildren after I am gone
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Paul the squirrel tucked acorns 'neath his chin,
dreamt of tides and boarding in~
a tail for rope, a nut for gold,
his oak ship creaked, both brave and bold.
So Paul climbed the mast so vast~
Oak tree rigging, held on fast.
Acorn doubloons filled his chest,
With whiskey in paw,
Whispered, Aye, the West is best!
But storm clouds loomed—his tail went slack~
when oak-leaves turned his raft aback.
Yet home he scampered, safe and spry,
to stash his loot in his piebald tie.
If the dress fits then ware it.'if the mess hits, then share it..The best advice is give
It a try, why take all the blame? Just be spry.' When next comes time to test-ify
Thats if you are bill-ary clinton? Just in
In this note, and as a bye; the bye.)
The little buck wags his rump at our sky,
bangs his last unscathed knee on our latched door.
Bullied by a gargoyle's bulbous black-eye
o'er the fields of play where his heart could soar.
Outside claims the unkept feet of the spry,
as busy children of the world explore.
How auspicious are white clouds with sunshine
and belles in butterfly bonnets of twine!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a forest named Camelot lush and green,
lived a gray squirrel, quick and keen.
His name was Arthur, a sprightly furry lad,
with delusions of grandeur, in his armor well clad.
One sunny day, beneath a mighty oak tree,
he spied a sword as big as big could be.
This must be Excalibur! Arthur cried,
with his nut-stained paws and eyes so wide.
Excalibur, you are MY mighty blade.
I’m King Arthur, be not dismayed!
No longer am I just a critter small,
I’ll rule this realm, beloved by all!
With tiny paws, he climbed the base,
and faced the sword with noble grace.
Farsighted, Art grasped a twig instead of steel
believing he was embracing Merlin’s ideals.
I pulled it out! he squealed with a cheer,
From this stone, my royal fate is clear!
For in this wood, I’ll take my regal stand,
A squirrel king am I, of this fair forest land!
So raise a goblet of cheer for Art, so spry.
With twig in paw, his kingdom no one can deny.
In his world of quixotic, leafy dreams,
Arthur reigns supreme, or so it seems!
'Twas very many moons ago
I was once a spry spring chicken
~ At least the hat survived
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
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