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Knock Knock

Who's there? The other side the chicken crossed to.

Who's there? Banana, since I had no more oranges left.

Who's there? 🎼Gary Indiana, Gary Indiana, Gary Indiana 🎶; of Lake County.

Who's there? Pizza guy, gal, else or a mobile food dispensing unit A2024D

Who's there? “Who's on first, What's on second, I Don't Know is on third ...”

Who's there? The Humanity, as the Hindenburg crashed in flames.

Who's there? (squeaky bull voice) “Little Red Riding Hood ...!”

Who's there? (muffled voice) “Land Shark”, er, “Telegram ...parcel post!”

Who's there? “What's Up ...!”

Who's there? “Dave, it's Dave man, me DAVE ...!”

4/14 - napowrimo - amaphora (somewhat)
To SEE words move in waves, wand and swan
in FELT textures that pan over the span of human history, opening a can of exuberant fandom.

HEARING it, them, spit out quick fits and sh#$ kickstarts the hits, a lit stick in the hellish pit of form.

SMELLING fat rat **** in pat lines pulls the mat on the chap who writes and chats with his cat monster, Wapslap.

MOUTHING the sun chum from fun to pun and stun, by one, who has come for those won.

CONCRETE thinking comes second after the ocean before.

Building BRIDGES follows vocabulary construction, connections of all things phenomenal.

The OAR of writing is a chore and door that stores, like "four score ..." or more, bores deep, not like boar's spoor.

FLOW with the tides of literary time though shine with the new harvest moon.

Seal the BONDS of language and story with heart and mindful imagination.

4/13- napowrimo - Finally, our optional prompt for the day asks you to play with rhyme. Start by creating a “word bank” of ten simple words. They should only have one or two syllables apiece. Five should correspond to each of the five senses (i.e., one word that is a thing you can see, one word that is a type of sound, one word that is a thing you can taste, etc). Three more should be concrete nouns of whatever character you choose (i.e., “bridge,” “sun,” “airplane,” “cat”), and the last two should be verbs. Now, come up with rhymes for each of your ten words. (If you’re having trouble coming up with rhymes, the wonderful Rhymezone is at your service). Use your expanded word-bank, with rhymes, as the seeds for your poem. Your effort doesn’t actually have to rhyme in the sense of having each line end with a rhymed word, but try to use as much soundplay in your poem as possible.
This parrot keeps using fowl language.

Forgetting to put on your age is regressive.

Spelling is everything unless your grammar *****!

It's not whether the glass is half empty or full, it's how big the glass.

If bees dance, who plays the music?

4/11- NaPoWriMo - one liner style
"Man Bites Dog!" Dog sues man. Man counter sues and slanders dog on social media. Dog files second suit for defamation and seeks to gag man on social media. Man appeals gag order and seeks to dismiss court proceedings. Dog files briefs and motions to continue legal actions. Man files motions to delay trial dates and jury selection. Dog seeks resumption of legal remedies. Man refusing to give depositions and stand witness. Appellate judges dismiss "Man bites dog trials". Headlines ..."Dog Bites Man!"

4/10- NaPoWriMo - Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem based on one of the curious headlines, cartoons, and other journalistic tidbits featured at Yesterday’s Print, where old new stays amusing, curious, and sometimes downright confusing.
Millons watched the spectical with specticals
that were designed to filter out harmful light
to the inner retinal realm of the human eye.
It was a party, of sorts, bringing worshippers
from around this world to witness our cosmic
neighborhood at work in the vastness of space.
A fitting revalry as civilization burns in shadows creating wars and famine while the masses take a day or two off to focus on a gift of creation while turning a filtered eye away from reality.

drones, butterfly death
bury deep in grave trenches
Babies born, unborn

Soldier or not here it comes on tank tracks
yanking down the towns in Richter scales:
old men hobble in fear, women shelter
with children, and the sky falls, Chicken Little style. It's played over and again in repeating images on news services, willing to sell humanity for ratings. The real story is the butcher shop of horror sanitized so as not to disturb the viewer's sensitivities. You don't need the sandwich board of history to tell you that, "The End is Nigh"! Many ends, as in a blink of an eye or the passing of a moon and the universe will continue without a tear for the fallen creatures, of a small blue dot of a planet in a galaxy far, far, far away.

Hail to you oh mighty hound
with your nose close to the ground
sniffing out most every grannual
for the scent of mushroom annuals

Up the hills and in the creeks
soaking tail and muddy feet
charging fast through forest fields
undeterred, you will not yield

Loyalty and love of us
you dance around with happy fuss
to find a gift that aims to please
the fungi ours, you'd rather cheese

4/9- NaPoWriMo - write your own ode celebrating an everyday object
moon's blink shadow cast
sandpipers scurry from sight
Ra retires briefly

April eight twenty twenty four
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