All blondes wear diamond rings and drive Mercedes so old.
All brunettes wear green straw hats and plant marigolds.
All tall people play golf on Saturdays and are Methodists winkers.
All Americans are overweight donut-eating, chocolate milk drinkers.
All Africans wear their hair in braids, and despise tattoos of a girl.
All Mexicans like hot taco sauce and dance in a frenzied whirl.
All old people want to be young, and resent their mother.
All only children want siblings, wishing they had a brother.
All men want a crazy, out-of-control woman in their bedroom.
All divorcees want to marry a millionaire who is not full of gloom.
All Republicans want a dictator to be president who is angry and blue.
All liberals want to give free food to the undocumented, and do.
The minute you think of people as a group of “all” you are wrong.
Please memorize this poem, and sing it as a song.
If you cannot see this by now, then I must join the throng.
For I have written this poem entirely wrong.
Potpourri of collections
Hug of affections
Season of winters
Track of sprinters
Road of cars
Street of bars
Pad of flies
Pod of eyes
Tin of sardines
Western of jeans
View of lens
Peck of hens
Pulpit of preachers
Lesson of teachers
Smack of bottoms
Perfume of blossoms
Fist of thugs
Bed of bugs
Table of logs
Circle of cogs
Score of musicians
Face of beauticians
Kiss of loves
Peace of doves
Whistling of birds
Conversation of words
Blind of blinkers
Twitch of winkers
Curve of bends
Finale of ends
~~~
Inspired by “An Exaltation of Larks” by James Lipton
"Golden Tapestry"
One day, that San Francisco way
My, oh my, like a rushing waterfall
This hopeless heart did fall.
Tinkling chimes, clinking glasses, music from the East,
Like rushing romantic stanzas swept me off my dreamtime feet.
Some are impressed by great authors or thinkers.
Me...one minute glimpse of your eyes, mesmerizing, godlike winkers!
Will I ever be able to go just one day without thee?
You, the creator of our lives golden tapestry!
Nay, we live in a fragrant field of fairy dreams.
You, forever, my king divine, in our eternal, castle of rainbow schemes.
Play on, instruments of limitless love and light.
An honor to be so bound by love's delight.
Forever your~ Panagiota
April 18. 2020
2pm PST
[with apologies to Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae]
We are the winkers! Short days ago,
We played all night, until dawn's glow,
Squopped and were squopped: for here we go
In the Fields of Winks, to hop them low.
I'm thinning out some things of mine
I do not want or need
Some for sale some for trade
Most of it is free
My poisonous relationships
They gave me fits and rashes
All the bridges that I burned
Well, there's the can of ashes
Wishes are a dime a dozen
Believe me there are plenty
You can have my broken dreams
And thoughts are just a penny
This box of nickels is dirt cheap
They're all made of wood
A pack of lies that I bought
Some are pretty good
There used to be some happiness
It seems to be misplaced
I lost some time that I was given
But most just went to waste
These mirrors with smoke, a pig in a poke
A hook, line, and sinker
All came free with my insurance
From unscrupulous hood-winkers
My policy is "No returns"
I hope you'll understand
If you're like me then you'll agree
This junk's still in demand
national poetry competition entry under my pen name "poemdog"
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