Donald Trump made nothing so great again
Except his big hair fancy once again,
And the poor old puppeteer of punch lines
Faces a boomerang of mines.
Donald Trump,
Fell into a foreign policy slump.
Forgetting the Strait of Hormuz,
Forced he’s to focus on Hairmuz.
Donald Trump's coiffeur of hair,
Kept his critics in utter despair---
If held together by sheer will power,
Or industrial-grade lacquer?
In Las Vegas Donald Trump
Tried to give the economy a bump.
But no one paid him as much heed
As his massive golden mane did.
Donald Trump’s fuller head of hair
Left media memes in a frozen stare.
The AI-made serum played magic trick,
And his thin thatch turned unto bushy thick.
Donald Trump
Caused rumour mills to take a thespian jump.
And photo shops were suddenly busy
With an over-the-top teased-up medley.
____________________________
Happenings | 13.08.2026 | America, art, humour, political, satire, Clerihew
How is it a family portrait…drawn with stick figures in crayon
with a sun and what looks like some clouds up in the sky
can make you smile…
touch your heart…
and bring a teardrop to your eye?
Could it be you know the artist
his work is familiar to you?
Could it be you love the artist…
and the artist loves you too?
Which is why a family portrait drawn in crayon…
can bring a teardrop to your eye
make you smile
touch your heart
and why it now hangs on your refrigerator…
as a treasured work of art.
A notebook is an object of art
Where the secret notes is hidden
Diaries is written, too personal
Journals is counting daily routine
Too special, full cover decors
After which is beautifully used
Hidden in secret place you only knew
When time of joy, inspire and sadness
This notebook reveal as litanies
Of emotions, fun and laughter release
And when all the life is truly dealt
This notebook becomes a memento of time
Once read again and again as part
Of biography and anecdotes of your life.
life is shaped by art
in the brush of creation
of the mystery color (action)
art
attracts
artists
beauty
brings
bliss
inspiration
ignites
imagination
colors
communicates
complexities
exhibits
evoke
emotions
canvas
conveys
creation
designs
demonstrate
diversity
fashion
fosters
fascination
gems
glimmer
gallery
paintings
project
passion
photographs
picture
precision
sculptures
signify
skills
visions
vie
value
at the art museum
I saw paintings
sculptures and
prints
and read their descriptions
their stories
their histories and
their reasons
some of the the descriptions
were a work or art
unfortunately
in some cases the descriptions
were or made the work of art art
She is not a prima ballerina at the age of three
but I stand and applaud when she dances for me.
Eloise, my granddaughter is such a lil sweetheart
I painted her image, but she's the real work of art.
When we spend the day together, we talk a lot
about her pink flamingo, puzzles and dot to dot.
We gasp as Captain Hook tries to catch Peter Pan
and sigh when Belle takes the Beast's giant hand.
Yesterday, we baked cookies with chocolate chips
after eating quesadillas and coloring baby doll lips.
We made pretty necklaces and painted pine cones
and face timed each other on make-believe phones.
It's much too quiet when she leaves; and a little sad
I reminded her Santa is watching, and not to be bad.
She smiled and said, "Nana, I'm on his good girl list."
Then, she took her Daddy's hand and blew me a kiss.
Sun budges through sapphire sky and drifting clouds,
Melting away frozen snow-capped mountains.
Throughout forest heartbeat and trembling leaves,
Upon dappled nature's well-endowed breast.
The calm echo of the brisk waterfall
Cascading downward into a plunge pool.
A quenching path to the old yawning roots
And cold rocks dripping in soft wet green moss.
Foliage subdued in a bygone dream;
Slow ebbing away crystal stream raise edge.
Neath the shade of the top branches that weep.
Nature's flawless evolving work of art.
11/14/2023
My curls are the frame of my temple, my curves an embellishment.
My skin smooth as silk.
My lips fill with contaminate cherries.
Your impenetrable eyes flow everywhere like torrents of sweet waters, rummaging in my past, crumbling hidden memories of unrequited loves.
My shoulders are scaffolding that support my rose garden,
infested with thorns and apparently fragile and delightful ruins.
My belly and my hips the high road of life,
and my strong legs tower with forbidden steps.
My body is a timeless architecture, where roots,
scars and immense deserts
transform it into what my unearthly essence has long resided, my temple.
a garden is a work of art
conceived with gloved, wrinkled hands
a home for fragrant specimens
for mists, for rain, for brilliant sun
yet when the weather turns, so do blooms
from rich perfumes to withered tombs
so clasp tight my hand, retreat indoors
to dream of sun-splashed greener shores
picture perfect words
lightly quilled on clean canvas
portrait of my craft
You have the shape
that I gave you, ...
I molded you real,
almost human...
But wings have not
given to you
a blow is necessary...
What more do you request,
oh! dumb creature ...!?
Search in the abstract
your colors !
On substrates
your pain ...!
Nothing further demand
from me, only have
modeled you ...!
A work of art
laboriously created
exquisitely spun
silken magic,
dainty looking
do not let this fool you
she is strong enough to survive
most rain storms,
and study enough to capture prey
her maker sits close by
as to not scare lunch
beads of water from last night
help her shimmer and dazzle
the tiny bugs are intrigued
mesmerized, they begin to climb
toward their final destination.
mother spider arrives in time to
wrap them carefully
lunch and supper
I'm a work of art
Being created into
Something beautiful.
The maker isn't
Finished with me yet.
I'm a blank canvas
Coming out as a
Master piece.
Something created
Out of nothing.
Into something beautiful.
As a work of art, you stand-
outstretched limbs with leaves ablaze,
glazed by nature's fiery brush-
Autumn artistry.
October 1, 2020
Contest: Writing Challenge - Dodoitsu
Sponsor: Constance La France
Syllables: 7 7 7 5
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