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Victoria Apr 16
There was a sort of whizzer boy,
The tinker blinker clinker boy,
With gears and knobs and springs abound,
A head full of thoughts and gears that go round.

He liked to paint and make and build,
For every craft, yes, he was skilled.
“Working hard but with time to play?
Why, that’s my favorite kind of today!”

But what made him different, you see...
He was always quite metallic-y,
And when it was his time for bed,
He charged his battery, and turned off his head.
Bobby Dodds Nov 2020
It started out as most things do.
At a distance.
In the back of my mind.
Something to wonder about,
But never define.
Most of the time it's just "hello",
Or "Shalom"
Or "what book"
And their reply.
And, it continued, as most things do,
Way too fast,
And,
Way too soon.
Thinking back now they are a wonder in my thoughts.
About-
What could've been.
If I took the chance of knowing them.
And,
Why do I miss them.
When I've got all but squat.
It's often something I think about. To miss someone I never took the chance of knowing.
To listen to a sort of rain and think about what they're listening too. Or who they're thinking about as well.
After a few years it everything seemed flimsy anyways.
Phoenix Black Oct 2020
If I had one wish
I'd be a fish
I'd swim the sea
and make a splish

If I had one other
I'd make a brother
We'd splish around
With one another

If a third would come
I'd make a mum
To make us smile
When we were glum

If a fourth were had
I'd make a dad
To keep us safe
From all that's bad

Then out we'd set, and swim all four
Skimming above the ocean floor
From coast to kelp to shell to shore
And skip and play forevermore
Jas Oct 2020
Woodland gardens, in their clunky brown depth
Of wet, powdered strings soiled in sap
The raw scent of shapeless red clay lost and wondered -
Where I, remember briefly, catching a glimpse of a bear
Or rather it's fur.

Mingled in the concert, a blur of peculiar bursts of noises
Struck with no identity, whimsical and plain
The songs of festivities -
Cool, romantic winds fueled the ferris wheel
As the man pressed flatly in pools of his own vitality
Broke my heart into orbes of fear and empathy.

If you watch closely
You'll come to know that men won't lie when you're listening
They won't hide.
You'll lie for them to yourself when you catch your eyes closing.
Pete Badertscher Oct 2020
The geese
Form a procession
in their northern formal dress.
Single file they march down
The hill
Coming from deep out of
the tree line and through
A courtyard of grass and sedge,
Their solemn walk
An act of unison metered by
webbed feet.
And an overdone elegance.

At shore of the pond
They prostrate themselves,
Head bowed to the water.
As if encountering an old
priestess among the
church pews.
Solemnly they shake their
Necks like human hands-
A time honored ritual.
Then, an unknown cue,
Their heads
turn up to the blue sky
launching themselves Into
the water
splash-less, like
Floating clouds blown on
The breeze.
Now moving independently,
leaving ripple paths
across the pond.
The ritual has ended.
A vision of fairy life along a rural woods with a pond.
Kara Shirlene Aug 2020
Whimsical as it may seem
I still find myself
Getting lost in a daydream.
I look up, and look around.
Beauty surrounds.
Life gets hard sometimes,
That will always be true.
But I have found
Joy in the mundane.
I've learned how to breathe
Through the pain and anxieties.
To live mindfully.
What does it mean to
Daydream now?
To find peace in
Doing nothing—
Except watching the
Clouds.
©KSS 8/2020
Phoenix Black Jul 2020
Little Jonny Octopus
Spies through his oculus
He sees a regal platypus
With worms in its bill

Then Jonny sees a porcupine
Tasting olives from the vine
Its quills looking very fine
As it sits upon the hill

Then Jonny sees a fuzzy bear
Covered in the brownest hair
Sitting there beside its lair
Eating up its ****

Then all three creatures Jonny spies
Return to look with hungry eyes
They like the taste of seafood pies
So they grind him in the mill
Phoenix Black Jun 2020
A ****-****-pede rose from 'neath the sea
and sclobbered towards the beach
on seven and twenty tenticlaws
with a retching craw-craw screech

He flared his squinty nostrils
then snapped his clack-clack beak
his tenticlaws grabbed man and child
and he slapped his glob-glob cheeks

Soldiers came with their woof-woof guns
fired shots to schlump him dead
but they should have shot his flub-flub gut
not his hardy thick-***** head

Bescreeching craw-craw wallercries
The beast hauled himself onshore
Townchums flit-flit scurry-fleed
to evade his gaping maw

“I come in peace,” he scrotle-honked.
“Pray, let's have some fun.
I'd love a game of skittles, and a
custard cream-filled bun.”
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