The duck is a curious creature
who has one astonishing feature;
she speeds up when excited,
crescendos, delighted,
and, if you're a grape, she might eatcha.
Jul 6, 2020
Jul 6, 2020 at 12:03 PM UTC
I knew a young lady of seventeen,
who harboured a great love for nepheline.
She'd use what she found
of these rocks from the ground
to fling through her ex-boyfriend's car windscreen.
Jul 6, 2020
Jul 6, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
I met an astute hippopotamus.
Though his voice could get very monotonous,
he could quote each refrain
writ by Shakespeare and Twain,
and his knowledge of Dickens was bottomless.
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 9:33 AM UTC
The versatile buttock abounds with
such uses as 'what you sit down with'.
Such a wonderful tool,
but what I find most cool:
‘tis an awf'lly fun thing to make sounds with.
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
She wanders by the twilit lake,
for thoughts of him kept her awake,
so now she feels her heart may break,
and walks on, cold and bitter.
He treated her with scant respect,
while his behaviour went unchecked
and after years of self-neglect
she doesn't know what hit her.
The whispered words behind the bend
allow her heart no chance to mend,
thus forcing her instead to tend
to purely stressful matters,
and all the while the breezes blow,
the things she didn't want to know
occur to her in steady flow
and leave her heart in tatters.
For what good comes neglecting chat
which lays her bare, or lies her flat,
if without help, her brain does that,
and worse, it complicates it?
But she never does speak thus,
it's to be felt, not to discuss,
and, wanting not to cause a fuss,
she never even states it.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 11:17 PM UTC
Oh don't mind me. I'll
just keep quietly dying
here out the inside
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 1:05 AM UTC
There once was a codger from Sydney
who said, 'That bloke stole my sheep, didn' 'e!'
He chased him to Illawong,
pushed him in a billabong,
and stabbed him twelve times in the kidney.
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 4:59 AM UTC
drip, drip, drip,
there's a little water dropping from the
sip, sip, sippy cup,
spilling out and sopping in your
lap, lap, lap,
so you stand instead of sitting, so the
wet, wet, wet patch
is drying off (permitting that the
sun, sun, sun
is up high and the sky is clear), you
run, run, run,
to the arms of your mummy dear, and
tap, tap, tap,
on the bottom of your sippy-cup,
drip, drip, drip,
now you'll need your mum to fill it up.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 1:58 AM UTC
here's to the girl who caught his eye
the one he never had
always in his back of mind
forever dormant, undefined
but ever since they said goodbye
the thought had grown sad
the one he never had
here's to the girl who caught his eye
aye, the girl who caught his eye
here's to the girl who broke his heart
the girl he loved and lost
there for him when no one was
who stuck around him just because
before she ripped the world apart
and lived to see the cost
the girl he loved and lost
here's to the girl who broke his heart
aye, the girl who broke his heart
here's to the girl who loves him still
the girl who never strayed
through thick and thin she spurred him on
and even though he now is gone
and left her nothing in the will
she stands there, poised and staid
the girl who never strayed
here's to the girl who loves him still
aye, the girl who loves him still
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
loneliness is just nostalgia
with a certain melancHoly
singular in form and yet
ubiquitous in mankind's folly
lonelinEss is frank aliveness
knowledge pure and terrifying
often coming, rarely going
self and ego freely dying
Loneliness is distilled dreaming
bottled by the ancient sorrows
sculPted to an angry brew and
full of ifs and lost tomorrows
loneliness is midnight meals
Microwaved on plastic trays
and eaten with a bitter sigh
to pass away the empty days
and loneliness is self-deception
Ev'ry time we draw our breaths
for we forget we call the shots
yet still crash blindly t'ward our deaths
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC