Whimsy
Humour is not always fun
Sometimes it’s out of place
But when it strikes it could just put
A smile upon your face.
While walking barefoot on the sand
And contemplating woe,
The muse of humour happened by
And this I did compose:
I am a small and tiny toe
And of the colour pink
I complement my foot so well -
Just love to walk in sync.
I am a large and funny bone
I do my best to charm
And with my bendy sense of fun
My humour can disarm.
I am a nose, a nosy thing
I lead us here and there
Smelling smoke from far-off fires
Just watch my nostrils flare.
Three verses will suffice for now
My muse she has grown tired
I have run out of body parts
That seem to be inspired.
Have I gained from making up
Some humour in this way?
I have not thought of woe at all,
That’s all that I can say.
THREADS OF WHIMSEY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
threads of whimsy doth
weave
the fabric of today
while
time twists the yarns of
yesterday
Sponsor : Constance Le France
Placed 3rd in Contest
on smooth hot rock I sat in REVERIE
after a HALLUCINATION drink of
mushroom, poppies and truffle
IMAGINATION soared like bald eagle
on high, throwing twin twigs with sigh
up I flew landing on a rainbow in
lucid DREAM ~
saw tinker bell fairies in pastel lace
with mauve daisy hats to face
sucking honeyed cream in wild glee
cherubs singing WHIMSY chorals
skipped to amethyst abode awaiting
dragonflies lighted a willow way
as swans mated on water lily ponds
of petals, elves smiling at bay
secretly inside a Crystal Palace
of chanting High Priestesses pure
sat Lord of VISUALISATION and awe
with blue-green eyes and beard of
silver hay, not all could hither this way
he fed me manna and mango ambrosia
gifted a garland of lotus snow white
a sapphire pen dripping indigo ink
to serpentine scribe enchanting song
on a rainbow in rubied blink !
I called to the monkey who wore a pinstriped suit,
Found out the giraffe and hippo are mute.
Saw a man stare at a lemur 'til dark,
Like he was waiting for some kind of spark.
The leaves fell from trees, an impressive display,
So I waved my arms like I made it that way.
A woman made comment to me, "Don’t be silly,"
As a flamingo tapped by, all dressed up and frilly.
Sun-bear, lions, and kangaroo too,
A gorilla looked like he had nothing to do.
Sunning themselves, no care in the world,
While a shoebill gave my head quite the whirl.
A man with some popcorn meant for a snack,
Tossed some to pigeons—who launched an attack!
He zigzagged away, arms flailing in dread,
Yelling, “They pooped on my head!” as he fled.
A grandma danced by the penguin parade,
Imitating the shuffle those little ones made.
They watched for a moment, then gave her a glance,
And waddled behind her to join in the dance.
I stretched with a yawn, gave one last glance,
At flamingos mid-strut and a penguin dance.
With a heart full of wonder and shoes full of dirt,
I left the zoo grinning, my cheeks kinda hurt
"A spoonful of fantasy is often the best medicine for reality." - CayCay
Life bounces my emotions around at its whimsy.
On many a day, a reverie is a savior to me.
Relief awaits inside the fondling of a good fantasy.
My imagination travels mind breezes easily
to unravel my dark in a visualization spree.
Sometimes I cannot force my face to even fake smile,
cannot elevate emotions above my bleak stockpile,
or take depression out of my character profile.
Escaping through my imagination's creative style
may lead to a dream worthy of keeping on speed dial.
is it just my Imagination
running wild or maybe
it is a weird Hallucination
I’m lost in my Reverie
as I Dream of you and me
together, or is it just Whimsy
on my part that you would
find me to be your soul mate
I spend a lot of my waking hours
practicing Visualization of us as a couple
"Sometimes the softest dreams unravel into ash."
My mind walks landscapes made of ash,
where stars collapse in whimsy’s flash.
I reach for light, but it turns to dust—
a mirror cracking from broken trust.
A hallucination holds my hand
and leads me through this haunted land.
Here, love once bloomed in endless spring,
now silence grows in everything.
The bones of joy lie at my feet,
while reverie weeps down the street.
I build my hope with shattered clay,
a dream that fades at break of day.
My imagination carves the sky—
with wings no real bird learns to fly.
Visualization paints a place
where I exist without a face.
Fantasy kissed me in the dark,
then vanished—
like the last cold spark.
Every poem paints a picture
worth a thousand words
or so I've heard
and a little whimsy
goes a long way
it can even make your day
yet if I may have my say
not to laugh occasionally
once in a while
would be a tragedy
so let me see you smile
and to make a long story short
as I have often thought
if brevity be the soul of wit
levity
the key to longevity
is the humour in it
You can start at zero, work your way up to a zillion,
Counting all the reasons Z’s the best that you can get.
Some say it is zilch although I think it’s the zenith
Even though it’s always last in the alphabet.
You can zoom right through the zone, head to Zion or stay home.
You can zig or you can zag so it’s easy to see.
Z’s the best and if you ask, even zombies will attest
There is nothing better than the zippy letter Z.
You can meditate to Zen, plant some zinnias, play the zither,
Wear a zoot suit in your zip code, even read a book on Zeus.
Meet a man named Zechariah, fly a zeppelin, eat zucchini.
You can even read your Zodiac and wonder if it’s true.
It’s got zip, it’s got zing
It’s a zany little thing.
It’s got zest, it’s the best
Really makes me want to sing.
It’s got zeal, it’s unreal
All the things that it can do.
You see, Z’s my favorite letter,
There is nothing better,
And if you don’t believe me
Ask the zebras at the zoo.
I am a loquacious, a storyteller of whimsy and woe
this poem is a jargogle of jumbling words
as I enter the forest to a cacophony of harsh sounds
oh, I often tend to be a gloomy crapehanger
and sometimes a fantasizer unable to distinguish
between fantasy and reality
escaping into the intricate world of poetry
it is a metamorphosis of a logophile word lover
oh, I am distracted by the wind in trees
and the rustling of leaves petrichor
and fall into an elysian state
it is an ephoria so intense with mellifluous feelings
sometimes I find myself in an assemblage of headstones
as I meander to the symphony of bird songs
as the darkness of death wraps around me
and the withered flowers are beautiful to behold
lost, lost in a reverie rhapsodic, unraveling words
and living in the moment, detached
Whimsy catches the wind
Like a fall leaf, orangered and guileless
And enters the house
Like a cat, confident but cautiously curious
To whatever it is that has made the wind.
As she catches sight of herself in the mirror,
Her colorful hues glimmering,
She smiles knowing how numbered her days
While lingering still in the present, ‘till
With a gentle purr and flick of her tail she is gone.
Once a door is opened
The wind will oblige for as long as it may
Circulating in with the new, and out with the old
As whimsy rides on leaving her subtle scent
Musty as old leaves, musky as a Puss in Boots.
Cats are unique in having their own minds
A quality of solitary life
Even as they put on their royal airs,
Leaves on the other hand have no minds
Nor life once they have fallen.
Seasons after all flow like clockwork
To the rhythm of an unknown Maker
Mysterious only in the little things
How long a leaf or cat might linger
On a wind felt but never seen.
(11/9/24)
Three minutes to let the words take flight,
I set the timer, heart racing with delight.
Thoughts scatter like seeds on the breeze,
Each one a whisper, aiming to please.
Tick, tick, the seconds pulse in my mind,
Ideas tumble and whirl, a treasure to find.
A mountain of dreams, a river of fears,
Words pouring like rain, washing the years.
What if I wrote about sunsets ablaze,
Or whispered sweet nothings in an endless gaze?
What if I painted the echoes of laughter,
Or chased after shadows, just what comes after?
The timer is ticking, my heart starts to race,
Each word that I write, a step in this chase.
Emotions unwrapped like gifts on a stand,
In this fleeting moment, I take a bold stand.
In a meadow where wildflowers twine,
Two little friends, in sunshine, align.
A bunny with fur as soft as new snow,
And a cheeky squirrel with eyes all aglow.
They bound through the clover, chase golden rays,
With giggles and whispers that dance in the haze.
They twirl under rainbows that arch in the sky,
In this whimsical world, their laughter can fly.
When shadows sneak in and the bunny feels blue,
The squirrel brings joy, as best friends always do.
They share little secrets, their favorite treats,
Beneath leafy branches, where magic retreats.
So mark this sweet tale, timeless and true,
Friends can turn gray skies to brilliant hue.
Just like the bunny and the squirrel's delight,
Friendship's a treasure, a guiding light.
I am
a Calico Goddess
of shadow.
Chant and eat peaches.
Bathe in stars’ sighs.
Sing with trees.
Listen to tea leaves as they sing of laughter, of honey, of hope.
See faces peering into shop windows: eager,
childish with glee. What do they seek?
Carpets of gossamer,
butterflies’ wings,
books written in dew,
candy sticks and ocean spray.
Chant and kiss the bees, flower-sweet.
Believe in the sunrise, red-gold truths told with birds’ tongues.
Spin in the forest’s shadows,
a dervish of delight crowned with crimson leaves and fireflies.
I am
a Calico Goddess
of shadow.
Drown yourself in a sea of violets.
Taste the wind’s song.
Embrace the joy life brings.
Be the dream you hear on waking.
Jasper uses the words absurd and whimsy as if they are synonyms
They are not the same to me, I say to him.
Silliness, craziness and idiocy is not whimsy.
Whimsy is imagination, playing, having fun, laughing, loving.
Jasper begins to whisper about me.
I have dog ears, and I do not like what he says.
So, I whimsically bite him.
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