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The reindeer folded their hooves in protest
demanding no more rooftop dashes,
no hauling toys in winter’s blustery blast.
Picket signs read: No More Sleigh!
Dasher, his loyal and faithful reindeer servant,
even burned his harness! What should Santa do?
A desperate Santa, opened ZipRecruiter with a click~
Urgent: Sleigh Team, No Flight Experience Okay.
The squirrels showed up with acorn résumés,
gnawing the reins and forgetting the route.
Team Squirrel was speedy, but slightly unkempt,
cheek pouches bulging with ill-gotten tempt.
They zigzagged the skyline, dropping acorns like coal.
Even Santa’s sleigh wobbled left, then right~
At dawn, the squirrels parked crooked on a power line,
cheeks stuffed with stolen candy canes, utterly divine.
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 gnarled lone oak tree
grew in the middle of voluminous nowhere,
amidst vast stretches of citron corm fields,
a by-product of an old man’s weird whim.
It proved quite a memorable playground,
For when I was small it was pure delight.
Oh how I loved to climb up
towards an azure sky
feeling for sturdy branches,
imbibing the smell of fresh-grown leaves.
At times I would listen to the wayward wind,
as it moaned in isolation
amidst lush green branches.
Yet when storms struck
I shied away as the winds howled
and thunder rumbled around the top twigs
of my old oak tree.
The last time I was there
I was not alone.
Handsome was tagging along.
He was not interested in the old oak tree
That's when I began to hate him.
And just to prove my point
a sudden change of weather
and heavy rain fell hard.
We ran to the car but the doors stuck.
To shelter under the tree was dangerous.
Lightening zigzagged above.
The place became cursed.
Finally Handsome opened the car
and we sped away.
I never met Handsome nor visited the oak again.
Arthur swore he'd be less brotherly,
When his brother got disorderly.
He would want their mum less motherly
To get him back to being orderly
A shock from one paid as orderly
His movements are scarcely soldierly
Many things handling haphazardly,
Though his allowance quite niggardly;
Toes from shoes saying it jaggedly...
Orderly whose walks much zigzagged
And finest garments the ragged.
Tailors’ quaint imagination
For customers adoration:
Only-God-knows inspiration
He knows time of expiration:
The crisscrossed and zigzagged entire,
As they are what eyes require,
Bejeweled Hat like spire
Who in Man ideas inspire?
One long look at Men’s Attire
You know it would them not tire;
Man would not from farce retire
On writers urging satire…
Tailors, gross imagination
From machines a machination.
A lot of really big trees had died to make that desk. His mother had probably gnawed them down, used her nails to saw the boards, and finished the decorative cutwork with her tongue.
Jennifer Crusie
My mom kept a patch of zamia trees,
freeze brook zigzagged and zinged,
zesty zephyr's laid cape from breeze,
zap zander tinned.
She accomplished zoning using a zax,
she led my zest and dream,
I can't cool off, I can't relax,
zealous esteem.
She shields me from rain and zenithal wind,
she kept zeal to be strong,
by lead and zaniness of mind,
zigs right from wrong.
1St Place Contest Winner
21-December-2022
Constance La France Zip, Zig, Zag, Zing form
Rhyme pattern: abab, cdcd, efef
syllable pattern: 10, 6, 8, 4 in each stanza
Anxiously anticipating annual activity
Blissfully bound by bravado
Consuming cold contagious concoction
Dizzily developed devilish desire
Eagerly expecting ego's enlightenment
Feverishly foraged familiar fraternity
Garnished gowns graciously gathered
Hopeful heralded hithered happenstance
Instantly intimated identical ideologies
Jointly jousted jovial juxtaposition
Kaleidoscopic keepsake kept kinetic
Longing languid lustful longitude
Miraculous marvelous momentous movement
Nursing nocturnal natal namesake
Observing others obstinate opinions
Preparing precious paternal post
Quickly quietly questing quarters
Radiant reared remained rambunctious
Stifled stern stayed sturdy
Transmitting tantalizing topical teachings
Understanding umbrage utilizing unity
Vital vibrant visceral visions
Watchful wonderful whimsical wishes
Yonder yearning youthful years
Zanily zigzagged zesty zenith
Amazingly, Alice assaulted an antelope
Because Bobby’s beavers became bold,
Considering cantilevered canines
Deliberately devastating donor’s doled.
Evelyn entirely excited electric eels
Failing forlornly from forward fencing,
Gaining ground gathering genuine gold
Her happiness heralded high financing.
I indicated initially incapable innocents
Justifying joyous juxtaposition jousting
Keeping kind Kenneth’s kindreds knit
Losing language like legally lost lusting.
Maybe minding manners means more
Neither newness nor novel necessary,
Occasionally opening old occlusions
Promises perfectly positioned pituitary.
Quite questionable quicky quirks
Rage rampantly removing regulations,
Summarily startling some supervisors
Touching their tempermental trepidations.
Until unusual undertakings understood
Veritable vigilantes visited volunteers,
Wildly waiting where we wandered
X-citedly X-iting X-istential X-ospheres
Yonder youthful yaks yielded...yikes!
Zebras zigzagged zestfully ziggurat-likes.
He chose a small safe snowy slope.
Well dressed with goggles and helmet,
Sunglasses and ski boots
And a pair of good skis.
It was lovely as he descended the slope.
The small breeze bothered him not.
Occasionally he would peer
At all the snow-covered mountains
Where eagles and hawks flew above.
But wait, the first poles were in view.
Trained well he zigzagged around
Occasionally touching some pole.
Until the end arrived and oh man,
How elated and happy he felt
As he had finished the run.
Changing into normal clothes
He met his girl as she gave him a hug.
Into the restaurant they went to order
The best displayed on the menu.
“I’ll take a mountain trout,” he said.
“Not me” she smiled “I’ll have a special treat”.
And promptly ordered a Baked Alaska
I am lethargic at best, wiped, totally beyond thinking
My sleep patterns are not evenly zigzagged
Up and down, my eyes are open every two hours
Not a nightmare or stress; I do not know what it is
I cannot get out of bed today
Good thing I do not have to
I am glad it is summer break
yet….
summer break is killing me
I need a daily purpose, the only thing I have going is
I have to feed the cat.
That was done four hours ago
My hair needs cut and dyed.
I have been saying that for a week now.
I should bathe. If I had one bit of energy I might.
There is nothing here right now, no one is home.
I doubt there is a person in this shell.
I am exhausted; is it lack of sleep or lack of purpose?
Does it matter?
furry fingertips danced around the head
shaggy and zigzagged,
Somehow making him seem more fierce
made sense as he was the king
fingertips of green rose up to meet him,
hiding him so he could wait for his prey
he crouched lower and lower
sensing an injured gazelle.
jumping finger tip flew past,
sticking from green fingertip to green fingertip
a warm summer day in Africa,
a great day to be a predator.
In the consuming time of day
the water of the no longer frozen pond
is again home to a family of ducks
floating quietly in the center, as if praying
at the table prior to evening’s dinner.
High above the pond, a large flock of blackbirds
zigzagged through the air…swoosh!...gone!
their leaders guiding them to new adventures.
At the horizon, the golden setting sun
savors his last look before exiting the day.
Through gentle off-white clouds, warm rays
beamed down on the ghostly roadside forest,
silhouetting naked arms of trees raised in the sky;
awaiting the resurrection of their assured greenings.
In the middle of the forest, a strange tree peeks out;
its white blossoms reflecting those of my head.
The changing consuming time has indeed blessed us both
in being perpendicularly rooted in this scene’s surreal beauty.
With a smile creeping across my face,
a prayer of thanksgiving flowed from my heart
to the heavens above: Amen...Amen…Amen…
This has been another day of being free
from harm; free from causing harm.
Their canoe zigzagged
as a snake. They enjoyed,
splashing water. They were
bold before the maelstrom.
‘Those days are gone, dear.’
He whispers, and she nods.
Their canoe floats on the
silver wavelets. They stare
at a local gym’s advertising
flex-board with pictures of
skinned chickens in various
poses to attract youngsters.
Libraries have turned desolate
cemeteries. Muscles of minds
decay. She reads aloud Bacon,
‘Reading maketh a Full Man.’
A smile radiates his wizened
visage while paddling. Speed
and sound of new generation
boats scare them. Their canoe
shivers. Now they block their
nostrils. Fanaticism and
intolerance are more stinky
than the rotten coconut shells.
They find around muddy-red.
‘
First printed in The Literary Hatchet
The design of lines wrapping her life,
Architecture revealing her past,
Expose the pain she’s walked alone,
Expose the trouble she’s danced,
And she’s tried to hide, tried to smile,
Tried to bake off to fleek,
Tried to cover all she’s become,
To avoid the social critique,
But I see through her jagged bedrock,
Holding her emotional trust,
And love every line, straight or zigzagged,
Staining her bones like a rust,
And nurture the scars of her love and her hurt,
The scars from over the years,
I love and hold tight all the scars she now owns,
They show the real woman she is.
Boy,
When all is said and done
Like a mighty uncanny wind to by pass
Let it not be ever a whistle thereof
When in youth you sprout forth
And be a determined shoot
To avenge the wrath of retardation
And in the light walk right
Avenge boyish dreams
And cast away the dilemma of hangovers
The salted myths of the dozed off giants
Or the imminent fear of extinct volcanoes
Let the future afore be cast sane
Or like a sea ashore
Sands of time ashore to beckon
And be a poor boy plays pebble plays
Then avenge your avid desires
And mould them into a dream to reckon
A force that unrolls the planet a tune
Zigzagged ways pulled right
Akin to this
Passion to grab a life of your own
For in this there is no mountain!
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