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Dispensing Keys
by Hafiz aka Hafez
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The imbecile
constructs cages
for everyone he knows,
while the sage
(who has to duck his head
whenever the moon glows)
keeps dispensing keys
all night long
to the beautiful, rowdy,
prison gang.

Keywords/Tags: Hafiz, Hafez, translation, imbecile, cages, sage, duck, head, moon, keys, night, prison, gang, prisoners, inmates, felons
The Platypus
(a limerick for adults, teens and older children)
by Michael R. Burch

The platypus, myopic,
is ungainly, not ******.
His feet for bed
are over-webbed,
and what of his proboscis?

The platypus, though, is eager
although his means are meager.
His sight is poor;
perhaps he’ll score
with a passing duck or ******.

Keywords/Tags: limerick, double limerick, humor, light verse, nonsense verse, platypus, ******, duck, proboscis, nose, beak, feet, webbed, flippers, eyes, eyesight, sight, vision, myopia, myopic, animal, nature, ******, erotica
At first I thought I was born to succeed,
Which was good and great because I lack luster for greed
To give and to cherish was largely my creed,
Life blooms everywhere so why covet its seed?
For shame and for glory, my truth was a story.

  A story, not a fable, one with use in its cradle
No. Not my truth, my feeble fiction. That to give and to gain was no contradiction.

With strong head and strong body I’ve wasted my days,
To think beau intention wouldn’t lead me astray.

You see I’ve done all I could in the space of this mind,
To unravel the hope to create world’s in kind.

Eureka! I had it, for one second’s perception,
A prospect in favour of catastrophic direction.

Though its gone I still taste it, like the vacuum in glass,
My pious mis-deception that my chance has not passed.
Some day it'll be the day
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Quacky little bird sound
When you hear it coming duck!
If farmer Ted is after you
You're running out of luck

Totin' shotgun and bird shot,
Son, he's aiming not to please
He's sneaking close behind you bird
You better hold your sneeze

Cuz your feathers are a tickler
Your bill is orange and bright
While the farmer is a stickler
He will sup on bird tonight

Lord love a duck!
Of him you mustn't run a fowl
Pain from your freshly plucked feathers
Will be enough to make you howl!
7/17/2019 - Poetry form: Light Verse - This is the first poem in my new e-book "Bird Beaks & Bee's Knees", a collection of bird-brained poems that attempt to answer the following question:  What can you do when you're as busy as a bee and life bugs you to the point where you cry fowl?  And there you go, barking at the geese, ducks and swans, swatting carpenter bees with your tennis racket and drowning ants with your water hose as if that will help.  The Woodpecker Gazette calls it "A silly, idiotic and unintelligent must-read." So as not to run afoul of the grammar police, please understand that my poetic license is up to date, misspelled words are intentional and the use of puns is clearly authorized. Why in the world would I use puns? To make it more punny, of course! Ok, I'll stop now. Maybe...
Bardo Sep 2019
Would you be the Lard then,
The Lard o' these lands ?

<The Lard !!!
I ain't the Lard of anything!
I'm the Laird of these lands, yes!
If that's what you mean.>

The Laird, eh!
So there's no Duck or Duchess over
    them then.

<Duck! You mean Duke, no Duke or
    Duchess !!!
Ain't no Dooks or Dutchesses around
   here Mon! >

Then what about the Goose,
The Goose of Gainly Hall.

<The Goose!!! What Goose ?
It's a ghost not a goose,
The Ghost of Gainly Hall !
Only goose I can see around here is
    you
Begone you unruly Mon, Begone!>

Unruly Mon is it ! Unruly Mon !!!
   (squaring up to the Laird)
...Heh! I'll nay fight ye, yer not worth it
The Big Lairdy Mon
I'll go off and alight some place else
Just like the Goose, the Goose of Gainly
    Hall !!!
............Hey Big Mon!!! The Goose! He's
    loose!! He's gone!!!
A bit of silliness purporting to come from the Highlands of Scotland.
The uniVerse Jul 2019
I once had a dream
where I ate duck ice-cream
it was drippy and trippy
and all kinds of sticky
there were fairies that hopped
and cherries on top
on top of the duck
on top of the cream
on top I was stuck
on top, I did scream
as I waded through dream
I swim and I swam
through an ocean of cream
melted I felt it
up to my ears
I tried and I cried
my ice cream of tears
but then the duck spoke
and said you're quackers
it was then I awoke
in my undercrackers.
JT Nelson Jun 2019
Like water
off a duck's back

water ran
                 right off
                                that
                                      duck's
                                        back
It's funny what you observe in nature that makes sense sometimes.
MayC Jun 2019
it may sound crazy, but
do you know how many
species of ducks are there ?
beautiful, gracious, colorful
ducks.
well, of course not.
because you'd rather
spend your time
crying over another copy
of a swan.


-May Colde
try to find the beauty in the unique.
Maybe, this thing does not matter.
It feels like a current,
But maybe it’s just another stream
with the promise of leading to the sea
when it’s truly
just heading for a lake.

Maybe, I can watch the ducks paddle over the water
and the twigs float on by.
It could be that this is how you learn,
that your gut doesn’t have eyes.

But it could also be how you learn
that there are some things
no eyes can see.

Whether it be
for the worsening or for the bettering
you are floating down this river
an island in the water
it’s viscosity carrying
you, with your hands
at the side of your hips


where you’ll end up
grace cannot be too far
when you follow the flow
who knows where you’ll end up
maybe next to those ducks
or in the vast open sea
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