He zings through tall grasses and lands on my knee
I try my best to pull this sticky legged insect off me
He chortles and chuckles and pings off in the wind.
This hopper of grasses surely has annoyed and sinned.
Another one of these pests zings onto my shirt.
Giving me the willies, I scream at my cousin Bert
Get the lightening bug jar, let’s catch this foul creature
This grasshopper gives me a wink; he’s the double feature
Why are they so sticky? They are as tricky as glue.
And why, Bert, do these creepers never land on old you?
I guess I’m not as sweet, he says, with a wide smile.
Another one lands on me, says “Hi! Just call me Lyle!”
I woke up to find dishes on my kitchen floor
In my sink was an enormous monster from folklore
I’m no monster, the green beast said to me.
But I’m glad you are up, for I will take my tea.
I raced around the kitchen and fixed tea for him.
Discovered he was Irish, and his name was Jim.
He had chosen my kitchen after watching me.
This gave me the willies as I handed him his hot tea.
Have you ever drawn a tree?
I am a cartoonist and a painter.
I have tried to draw them.
A tree is the most difficult thing in the world to draw.
Some artists say that perfect circles are impossible.
I think I have cranked some out.
They are not as hard to draw
As a tree.
A painter told me that horses are difficult to draw.
I can draw cartoon horses in my sleep.
All night long.
And unicorns.
But trees.
They give me the willies.
They are impossible to draw.
You would know this if you ever tried to draw one.
For a while now,
I thought I feel no longer.
Transiently this gravity etiolated,
But you, like Optimus Prime
came to my rescue.
Like magnetic flux you appeared,
And lured me into your field.
Now I am lost in your radar,
You give my heart a real beat.
I am Spellbinded.
In my head a tenant you've become,
In my head you are the stars I gaze.
And in my heart a resident you've become
And I hope you won't depart, for you've became my Chum
YOU are my favourite thought of the day,
My Venus in a clear morning.
YOU are my cup of soup,
My latte on a cold day.
You give me the "heebie-jeebies"
Those willies, getting my knees weak.
Selfless as you are,
with the sweetness beyond.
Unmatched you are,
with a smile so contagious
And that is a complete reason why I have a renewed faith in Romance.
Perhaps you are my fairytale.
The peeping hedgehog scared the willies out of the maid
She ran from the room screaming, after hearing the window shade
I don’t know what it is, maybe a beaver or a bear she yelled out.
We could hear her six minutes later, giving another annoying shout.
At least I got rid of her, the peeping hedgehog said, amused.
I did not know these mammals talk, so I felt slightly confused.
Let’s play Uno, the hedgehog suggested to me.
I love Uno, so I invited him in for tea.
why are vultures in the road today?
red necks are completely ugly
devouring their carrion
they give me the willies
red turkey buzzards
road kill dessert
good bye mole
tasty
food
He calls me over to the park bench:
Wanna see something?
It lolls from his open fly
partly erect. The dark ,
almost silvery in its salt and pepper
rookery.
Your willies come out Mr.!
As I stare, it rears
as if to threaten the entire city
with a bold cyclopean gaze. A monster
only Superman (my other half),
could battle against.
I’m telling mum, I fling over my shoulder,
as I run,
all my heroic-powers gone.
considering pure lilies
they're giving me the willies,
exquisite pictures of good
I cannot live as I should
written July 18, 2021
wee willie once had a hot date
said it was a matter of fate
that she stormed away so mad
for she knew she had been had
just because he was two hours late
he begged for another go
because he said he loved her so
she gave him another chance
to go paint the town and dance
but once again he failed to show
all she could do was shake her head
there was nothing more to be said
again she knew she's been had
she was quite madder than mad
somehow wee willie was found dead
Your Best new Limerick Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
2/3/20
In Iceland there’s a Willy museum
It’s not huge like an old Colosseum
Filled with all types of willies
It would give me the sillies
But people pay lots of Kroner to see um!
Inspired by a comment Tom Cunnigham made on my Aurora Borealis poem
The museum has many exhibits of the genitals of animals!
1/8/20
My goosebumps have goosebumps
They are plain to see
I can't believe
How this came to be
Exploring this old haunted house
I'm feeling quiet uneasy
My hackles are raised
Any my stomach is queasy
Not alone in this house
I got the willies
But that's not all
My spine has the chillies
Goosebumps on my goosebumps
Buckling with fear
I see a frightening sight
Coming out of that mirror
Lost my voice
Can't seem to scream
That specter looks familiar
It's someone I've seen
I slowly back up
To flee this place
I look again and realize
Its my chicken face
My goosebumps lost their goosebumps
But I still have some
And they are telling me
Run fraidy-cat run
Goosebumps Poetry Contest.
Sponsored by: Delilah Ventura
11/4/19
Cut the papaya into pieces
The tree became slender
Throw away the lid of your wishes
Tear the police force asunder
It rose from the sea into lilies
The room opened all three windows
All around the restless willies
Cold hearth full of cinders
After blows up the red grenade
All it was a bowl concave
September 10, 2019
Life Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Ironic Zink
Well-established wonder-stricken wayfarers will work with wizards,
who worry worm-eating warblers will wander by with Wyandottes.
Witchdoctors wallowing with Weiss beer will widen willowy wonky
widow’s walks. Who? What? When? Why? Why not?
Wonderful wearisome woolly Willies whose wrinkly wiggly whatchamacallits will weigh whizzing wingfish whipped wildly within Widow Williams’s whirlybird’s window wells. Who? What? When? Why? Why not?
Why wayfarers? Witches? Wizards, Wolverines? Witchdoctors? Well, woks, workbenches, wobbly wickiups, were wildly wanting whiffle ball’s wishful wildcats, which is why we were willing to wind up wolves, women, and worst-case woodcocks into worthy wayfarer’s winter wineglass widgets within wonderful, wise-cracking
woodland’s wee-folk who reside within wizardly wigwams.
Who? What? When? Where? Why? Why not?
Warm whoopee wayfarers welcome willing witchdoctor's whizzing whatchamcallits on Wednesdays with wonderfulness.
International Women's Day
Now being a woman, I don't get it,
When large breasts are floated in
Amsterdam today!
Looking like overgrown onions,
To celebrate Women's Day!
Is that all we are? Really how silly!
If only there were an International
Men's day!
And rivers filled with floating willies!
One could make millions charging for
"Ride the Willy"...
From the Book:
I Float, Hear me Roar!
By: Panagiota Romios
3/8/2019
A is for a**l
B is for balls
Share them or wear them
Tucked up in your smalls
C is for condoms
Of all shapes and sizes
D is for dicks
Made of chocolate for prizes
E is for enlarging erections
Oh wow!
F is for fig leaves
Worn you know how
G is for G string
Oooh very nice
H is for handcuffs
Double locked twice
I is for indecent
That sums it up
J is for juices
And not in a cup
K is for kinky
Whatever the weather
L is for lust, libido and leather
M is for mask, massage and minge
N is for naughty
Making me cringe
O is for oral
Taken at leisure
P is for pervert, ****, pimp and pleasure
Q is for quickie
If that is your need
R is for rampant rabbit
One you won't have to feed
S is for S and M
With shackles thrown in
T is for torture
Oh such a sin
U is for urinate
Some folk just love it
V is for vibrator
You know where to shove it
W is for whores, whips, willies and wellies
X is for x rated **** on your tellies
Y is for yeast
Well it does make bread rise!
And Z, well I'm f****d
So I'll say my goodbyes!
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