The doctor smiled,
holding up the
ultrasound of my
healthy, growing
baby.
My relief shattered
when the screen
showed it whispering
inside my womb.
It told me the exact
date and hour it
planned to consume
me.
Tonight, the labor
pains began three
months ahead of
schedule.
I can feel multiple
tiny, razor-sharp
teeth biting their
their way out.
Sometimes wonder if it's all worthwhile
Then your encouraging words cause me to smile
Like a goofy old geezer
An old geezer squeezer
Grinning like an oversexed eighty-toothed crocodile
I sail on an ocean of custard and jam
Aboard a ship made of biscuits and bread,
I am the sweet toothed pirate I am,
And clearly not right in the head.
Nebulous streams clouding my brain
Give me some peculiar thoughts,
I wear a vest made of liquorice sticks,
And a pair of marzipan shorts.
With my motley crew of gingerbread men
Who are armed to the teeth with balloons,
We go round the world kidnapping cakes,
While we gorge on sweet macaroons.
Entry for
YOUR CHOICE LIGHT VERSE ,
Any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
26/6/2019
Before I die
I want a mouth filled with gold teeth.
So, when they excavate me after a thousand years.
They'll think I was royalty-maybe even a king-
To fool an archeologist (grave robber), I think, is a noble thing.
Good kings should be buried like the common man.
No monuments or pomp- purple garments or crowns.
Just a simple pine box in the cold-cold-cold ground-
Most sweets their nectar pollen pollinates,
Preserving life before their sap gets sapped;
Yet amber's sweetest resin resonates,
Ambrosia's essence from death's lap gets lapped.
But you, my sweet, are most untimely soured,
Indulgent hungers feed with greedy gluts
On dulcet fares, you're from your prime devoured,
Consumed unsweetly through most seedy guts.
You're like a cloyed, discandied bubblegum,
A sweetened, syrup-sugared pixie dust;
Your cheer gets halved, they're more than double glum,
An eaten snack succumbed through tricksy lust.
Most sweets conserved from death live still distilled,
Yet those most sour that have their fill fulfilled.
Here comes Buck Toothed Chuck
from Hickville Street,
sorriest feller you
ever did meet.
Walkin' his flea bitten dog
down the street, scratchin’ his head
and flip flopping his feet.
If he asks for money
best say, "No way"!
'cuz it'll slip through his fingers
in less than a day.
He'll be spittin' tobackee
the whole day through,
'cuz he ain't got nothin'
better to do.
There goes Buck Toothed Chuck
from Hickville Street,
hasn’t had a bath in
over a week,
Best steer clear cuz' the
smell ain't sweet,
sorriest feller you
ever did meet.
Even simple things
light a sparkle in her eyes
Lollipops in blue-
she tells me taste like sunshine
as she flashes a blue smile.
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