~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was an ostrich named Stu,
Whose face made the emus say "Ew!"
But he'd wink and would coo,
Darling, I choose you~
Till a kick proved he'd misread the queue.
these limericks are for children-but I wanted to share
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there was a baby named Jess
lots of food she would process
into farts and poo
and to burbs and spew
her parents loved her no less
---------------------------------------------
there once was a pussycat named Stu
who spent a happy day at the zoo
mostly liked the big cats
but laughed at the meerkats
and the monkey blowing a kazoo
SNAIL MAIL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Stu, with his shell brown and bold,
From the forest post office, he slowly strolled.
With letters packed on his back galore,
With slime as his tires, he slowly went to each door,
"Your snail mail's arrived!" he extolled.
“You fool! Haven’t you heard of email?” badger exclaimed
“Of all your slowness, you should be ashamed.
“With the click of a mouse
You no longer deliver from house to house.”
“But, but…I’ll lose my job,” Stu proclaimed.
“Oh, Stu, you’re so uninformed, so old school.
Your skill set you must totally retool!
Have you not heard of UPS or perhaps FedEx?
You can deliver packages and other objects!
“But snails don’t drive. You’re such a fool!”
“Besides, I’m looking forward to my postal pension
Not to mention days without strife and tension.
And all those Forever Stamps I’ve amassed
I’ll sell online or on my webcast.
Then with Musk I’ll travel to space, otherworldly dimensions.”
PATTERN BALDNESS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stu the squirrel looked in the mirror with a fright.
“Oh no! My fur’s vanishing! What a horrible sight.”
What’s become of my ‘furdo?'
Maybe fur I can put on with glue.
OOPS! That doesn’t look right! Dastardly plight!”
He tugged at his thinning tufts with despair,
"Is this really the fate I must bear?
Squirrel pattern baldness,” they say,
“Runs deep in my crew’s way,
But I’d rather have fluffy brown hair!"
So Stu bought himself a furry, brown cap
But alas, looked as if he was wearing burlap.
Discarded it with a single motion
Giving up his silly notions.
Smiling, he admitted, “I’m still a charming chap.”
abc
the early days when everyone was alive
def
the beats of the hearts that coloured my world with purity
ghi
the candid memories made when All Vibes Are Positive
jkl
the perfect feeling of all seasons when joy was the ultimate trip of the day
mno
the way the earth smiled when the matriarchs were still around
pqr
the way the world felt complete when the patriarchs were doing their job right
stu
the laid back feeling of a full saturday that was so activitous
vwx
the smile of the endless freefall in a little kid's mind
yz
wondering where the now long since lost pieces went to the perfect puzzle
Plunged to terrain plagued, tasty female options
Surge of adrenalin pulses choices unsuitable
Piquant aroma pulls him closer, allure accosting
Sentient favours solacious flower so beautiful
Hurtled descent drops watchful onto hillock haze
Swayed seed laden willow heads have halos
Hedonistic impulse picks silken stems with craze
Seraphim surround a torn aura in dewy daos
Preordained mistake palates spasmed heartbeat
Shrews drawn to Stu allude to transformation
Prurient dripping pores warble wanton indiscreet
Strident serpentines permit desire incubation
Heathen has escape, wrapped parachute harness
Preparing his tortured innards for due launch
Hazards bring unbridled enthusiasm for newness
Pride hides a tarnished ego, attempts reforge
11th February
Whenever waking,
Lady tailor making
Jazz piano scale skip quick notes implore me
Siphon symphony verve blurred by saxophone sass
Floated lilly pad leap frog spring legged surety
Splats on brass buttoned soldiers dedicated amass
Bulbous glass swirl burgundy grape stem bitter
Absorbs oak barrel sentiment, forested persuasion
Ace praise expires, a swiftly swallowed splinter
Comical dive antics of cork fragmenting abrasion
Dissolving Elizabeth, shabbily written character
Simmered limply submissive, a nouveau improvisation
Vat of pursuit poured by Stu picks a passenger
Chords hover mahogany piano cascade syncopation
Composition three minute summit misconstrue
Violins textured crescendo vibrates bow tight strings
Apron strewn, Libby leaves her rolling pin askew
Butter heart hails harmony a true companion brings
22nd January
Stu calls me Jasmine
Rookie Italian racer Stu Gotti
Wicked fast in his bright red Ferrari
With one mile to go
Gotti got real slow-
Mad dash to the nearest Porta Potti
September 12, 2020
EoW Theme Series (this week) Sport Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
I had to Stretch two Myles of Bob wire
Before the sun Rose at Dawn that day
I sent my Bill but still had to Sue,
They Jess didn't Ophelia like they'd pay
I was Maddi as I've ever Ben
Ann I told them of my Amber, too
Asked them to meet me in the Alli
To settle this little piece of Stu
I saw a little Ray of Hope then
Their Tony softened Berry sickly
I sent them the Bill with one more threat
Hannah they Peytoned very quickly
11/13/16
Foe contest What's in a Name
There once was a prolific chef named Stu,
Who whipped up vittles for a Navy crew.
He was aptly named,
And was also famed,
For concocting a most sumptuous stew.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
A Fox and A Turkey
The fox thought he could run faster than turkey
Little did he know he'd go splat wam dorkie
No one will be eating him on forkie
Even good old friends Stu, Mork and Rickie
A turkey beating a smart old wild foxie.
Written: Nov. 26, 2015
Theresa
Man Name Stu
There was a young man who always knew
Didn't like eating his wife's stew
she stopped cooking for him
then she hit his big shin
then she ran away with man name Stu.
Written: Sept. 10, 2015
Theresa
Eyes glib from tree and nominous tree
Go barking with intent.
To foe itself in one-two-three
And leaphing as it went.
In black from shadow nail to nut
Bad rifle cock in hand.
Dick’s Turbin angry as a foot
Suspecting cross the land.
In ukulele’s uniform
A unicycle too.
Bi-dykles round the Matterhorn
With mouldy Irish Stu.
From vileduct out to craggy glen
Fat Andy takes his bird.
And crapping ever by hissen
A trumping sound is heard.
Gruff rozzers with their monty hunt
Watch ever closetful look.
And seeching on a Quakers front
Play handclap with a hook.
Through curlfew bends and spiteful leads
Half etched upon their heads
Mock heed within their harristweeds
Whilst plotting from a shed.
Go bootle up your bottlenose
You onion bread – you scab!
There’s nothing like a good repose
Two inches at a stab.
And if, in some unlucky pose
A match should strike its head.
We’ll light a Camel by its toes
And hump it on some bread.
A boy named Stu had nothing to do.
He deplored being bored.
His money all spent;
He had not even one cent.
So, to a field outside he went.
Looking up very high,
He studied clouds and the sky.
One cloud, he believed looked just like a cat.
“Wow,” he thought, “I really like that!”
His feelings morphed to being at ease;
Calmness came with a spring breeze.
Then, out of it all, came the sound
Of tiny birds fluttering around.
With comfort, he lay on the ground.
His hand was led by his fingers touch,
Over the soft grass warm and lush.
A bee alighted on his arm.
He studied the little creature without alarm.
From within his peace, he perceived a scent;
To the colorful young flowers he went.
He yielded to his senses and explored
Temperatures, colors, fragrances…not a bit bored.
Ole Tyree was a tourist from Texas
who went to a rock and roll nexus.
He yo-del-io-ed
in Sun Stu-d-io
that's how he got kicked out of Memphis.
11-14-14
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