Seed of Fear: Jack and Jill
Mack and Stacks went up to the trap,
to stash a pail of cash, slick and packed.
The street was quiet, corners still,
sun hung heavy over the window sill.
Mack held the bag, pockets tight with green,
Stacks right behind, eyes sharp, unseen.
A shadow broke, the door rattled loud,
a flash, a bang, the night turned proud.
Mack hit the ground, crown knocked low,
Stacks stumbled next, nowhere to go.
They both fell fast, fear in the air,
the block held its breath, nothing was there.
The pail was gone, the trap left bare,
echoes of warning hung everywhere.
Mack went first, got hit in the dome,
Stacks went next, it hit his neck—neither made it home.
The equality of choice
Didn’t really bother me
Cause my opinion wasn’t voiced
They took it as a quandary
In fact, I was just waiting
For the sun to come out
And as it did, I ate
The right stack with no doubt
For it was brighter lit
And I could plainly see
What kind of grass to eat
While they were staring at me.
Stack a block upon a block, you need no reason why
Keep on stacking blocks on blocks until they reach the sky
When they reach above your head they’ll seem so very high
But if they topple over there will be no need to cry
Just stack a block upon a block to have another go
But stack them up more carefully and stack them up real slow
And when you stack them higher than they were before, you’ll know
That every time you try again your confidence will grow
So stack a block upon a block, make sure it won’t collapse
Don’t use cement nor sticky tape, don’t use securing straps
Just keep on stacking blocks on blocks and if there’s no mishaps
This time they may well reach the sky, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps
players have been black
even though we blew our stack
will return and be coming back
when we would clamor
he hit my head with a hammer
would still be scammer
we will take a peak
all those things we want to seek
bothered by weather which is bleak
when we want to singg
birds we have heard in the spring
song book we should bring
when we sand a song
we had a page which was wrong
on right page belong
at a recital
each song we sang had a title
singing would be vital
brady we forbade
with a plain which was well laid
him be sure to trade
Pulling covers off my back
Lying in this Winter’s sack
Freezing through another night
Dreading the alarm in sight
Looking for a place to park
Morning rush is still so dark
Hoping for a coffee break
Hurry up for heaven’s sake
Hold on, is this just a dream
Not as bad as it may seem
Haven’t I retired yet
Yes indeed I have, you bet
Back to sleep, my bed is warm
Funny how the memories swarm
Pulling covers off my back
Pancakes calling by the stack
Wooòt woooo
Wooot woooo
Hear my train comin' watch the
Hope spew from that smokestack
Oh watch that locomotion comin'
Round the curve
Wooot woooo she got nerve
See that smokestack shinnin'
Brightly like a BOLT OF LIGHTNIN'
STRICKIN'! listen to her singin' on
The track
I'm boardin' the 1137 to
New York City keep your self
Pretty 'til I get back
I'm tellin' you like it is tellin' you
Where it's at there ain't gonna be
No change in me only charm
listen to my train
Pullin' in, look at that solid gold
Smokestack the engine too see the
Moon Beamin' brimmin' with love
For this locomotive
Don't cry I'll be back one day
Ridin' this bright new train I'm
Goin' all the way yeah! look at that
Smoke risin'
Here i come New York City!
I'm comin' to play at the COTTON.
Sprinklin' trumpet notes everywhere I go
Shinnin' Brightly such like a bolt of
Lightnin' strikin'!
That's the smokestack Jack
Look at that baby function
Woooot woooo
Bye bye New Orleans
Farewell bay bee Farewell
And all that Jazz!
Woooot woooo
let new stack = new "happy face cheese burger cat"
add args 'cheese' and 'burger' and "cat'
to ''annoyed nursery''
also add ''break'' where ''necessary''
love Lani and insert smiley
insert Lani signature
check for syntactic errors
end stack
The Restaurant Menu has a picture.
Three golden brown Pancakes
A large corn colored slice of butter
Melting on top running over the sides.
Griddle Cakes doing a Nathalie Wood impersonation
Drowning in a sea of thick maple syrup
Cartoon like ribbons of aroma rising upward.
The old man made them every Sunday morning before church.
Which he never attended
Black hair slicked back
Partially stained white Dago-Tee
Cigarette dangling from his lips.
The ash worming longer with each Popeye exhale
From the side of his mouth
Large bowl on his left hip
Attacking the batter with grunts of enthusiasm.
Tattoos on his arms flexing larger then smaller
Giving the appearance they were dancing.
Tatted when he was a Cook in the Navy
During World War II.
I imagined him storming the beaches of the South Pacific
With spatula in hand
"Don't need to cut'em with a damn knife.
Use your fork "
He'd holler wrestling the knife from my hand
Then throwing it into the sink.
Slapping the back of my head in anger
No Waitress wait!
I'll have the Waffles instead
With strawberries if you have them.
Yes, Waffles
We never had a Waffle Iron.
Lydia had a fantastical mind that loved summer breezes
She loved filling it up with pirates, dragons and daring deeds
Just give me a stack of books and a meadow, she would say.
Gone all day, entertaining herself, enjoying her adventures.
She loved the sound of the grass gently moved by the wind.
She adored the birds who cheered her on. Sometimes an ant visited.
If she had a sandwich, she might share a pinch of it.
She can always entertain herself, her mother would say.
A rare talent, learned in childhood that has lasted her whole life.
A quirky young farmer named Ted
Used haystacks instead of a bed.
His wife in due course
Applied for divorce
'For that was the last straw!' she said.
31.08.19
'Make Me Laugh Limerick Contest Poetry Contest' sponsored by Tania Kitchin
syllable count : 88558
a stack of pancakes
add butter pecan syrup
melted butter too!
A thousand page stack
partially filled with my thoughts
eternally empty
Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada
There's a sky that's high
where the chimney's higher.
Where the smoke blooms grey
and the winds are drier.
There's a chimney round
with it's white strobe lights,
calling out to planes
through the days and nights.
With a rim in white
and a stack of grey
In the North we say...
It's our home to stay!
we were on the move
it was grove
it was cool
needed food
no matter where we are
near or far
we always stop and hop
to a
STACK BAR
i like to read
my needs to feed
so i lay back
on the stand rack
there's a sack
its my
NIGHT STAND STACK
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