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Lucky Queue Nov 2014
In a glade the size of a potted plant,
On a blanket the size of a napkin,
There sat a pair, the queerest of all,
Pieris and little Rotkaepptchen.

One was a goldfish,
But not just a goldfish.
The other was a plant,
But not just any plant.
(He was a fern, get it right.)

These two had a mission only they could complete,
The Quest for the glorious NumNums.

The legend of NumNums
Was told far and wide,
And all NumNum lovers
Wanted them inside.
(Their tummies that is, don’t be inappropriate)

ANYWAY,
The NumNums were glorious,
Such a yummy treat,
Until they were poisoned,
That wasn’t so neat.

Pieris and Rotkaepptchen,
The task now at hand,
Set off on their journey,
Through strange, distant lands.

They navigated bedrooms,
They slid down the halls,
They were chased by vacuums,
And trapped by LEGO® walls!

This impossible mission continued,
Until, at last, success!
They found the trail’s end!
What joy! What bliss!
(Huzzah)

Now all that was required
Was to figure out the poison.
So they, without the antidote,
Could eat NumNums again

What a task that would be,
What work, what a chore!
Yet near the store of NumNums,
Upon the ***** floor,

They found a scrap of parchment,
With clues inscribed in black,
To reverse the candy’s poison
And bring them NumNums back
(Hollah!)

Into the woods they ventured,
They searched day and night
To find the precious antidote
And to relieve their plight.

For days, the land they scoured,
For ingredients rare and odd
Until they finally saw it,
Held captive by the frog!

The gleam of silica crystals,
The shine of his mucus
His curious croak was answered
With a meek “Help us.”

“Why should I?” he croaked again,
Staring them down drearily.
“I know not your quest,
I’ve only hints at the best.”

“Then surely you can help,
Surely you can try!”
Little Pieris yelped,
Looking about to cry.

“Don’t worry my friend!”
Rotkaeppchen declared
“For I’m he cannot resist
our plea, and most surely will assist.”

“Then, my dears, I solemnly swear
To help you in your need.
For here, this little draught of pear,
Will help you to succeed!”

And then, procuring a vessel
of the clearest glass
The wise old toad
Cleared his throat,
And promptly passed some gas.

“Excuse me,” he rumbled.
“Excuse me for that faux pas.”
And then he amphibiously
Handed over the pear draught glass

“Egads!” the two exclaimed,
Taking the glass cautiously.
But at last! They had the pear
And thanked him graciously.

At long last they had the cure,
The pear to fix the poison.
They took it back to the glade,
Where their lips they proceeded to moisten.

And that, my friends, is the last of our tale,
The tale of Pieris and Rotkappchen
The daring elves of yore.
With NumNums three,
Under the TumTum tree
They lunched and brunched once more.
And now, we’ve reached the end.
11.5-6.14
Written with my darling dear Storm for our Creative Writing class as a narrative poem
Storm Nov 2014
In a glade the size of a potted plant,
On a blanket the size of a napkin,
There sat a pair, the queerest of all,
Pieris and little Rotkaepptchen.

One was a goldfish,
But not just a goldfish.
The other was a plant,
But not just any plant.
(He was a fern, get it right.)

These two had a mission only they could complete,
The Quest for the glorious NumNums.

The legend of NumNums
Was told far and wide,
And all NumNum lovers
Wanted them inside.
(Their tummies that is, don’t be inappropriate)

ANYWAY,
The NumNums were glorious,
Such a yummy treat,
Until they were poisoned,
That wasn’t so neat.

Pieris and Rotkaepptchen,
The task now at hand,
Set off on their journey,
Through strange, distant lands.

They navigated bedrooms,
They slid down the halls,
They were chased by vacuums,
And trapped by LEGO® walls!

This impossible mission continued,
Until, at last, success!
They found the trail’s end!
What joy! What bliss!
(Huzzah)

Now all that was required
Was to figure out the poison.
So they, without the antidote,
Could eat NumNums again

What a task that would be,
What work, what a chore!
Yet near the store of NumNums,
Upon the ***** floor,

They found a scrap of parchment,
With clues inscribed in black,
To reverse the candy’s poison
And bring them NumNums back
(Hollah!)

Into the woods they ventured,
They searched day and night
To find the precious antidote
And to relieve their plight.

For days, the land they scoured,
For ingredients rare and odd
Until they finally saw it,
Held captive by the frog!

The gleam of silica crystals,
The shine of his mucus
His curious croak was answered
With a meek “Help us.”

“Why should I?” he croaked again,
Staring them down drearily.
“I know not your quest,
I’ve only hints at the best.”

“Then surely you can help,
Surely you can try!”
Little Pieris yelped,
Looking about to cry.

“Don’t worry my friend!”
Rotkaeppchen declared
“For I’m he cannot resist
our plea, and most surely will assist.”

“Then, my dears, I solemnly swear
To help you in your need.
For here, this little draught of pear,
Will help you to succeed!”

And then, procuring a vessel
of the clearest glass
The wise old toad
Cleared his throat,
And promptly passed some gas.

“Excuse me,” he rumbled.
“Excuse me for that faux pas.”
And then he amphibiously
Handed over the pear draught glass

“Egads!” the two exclaimed,
Taking the glass cautiously.
But at last! They had the pear
And thanked him graciously.

At long last they had the cure,
The pear to fix the poison.
They took it back to the glade,
Where their lips they proceeded to moisten.

And that, my friends, is the last of our tale,
The tale of Pieris and Rotkappchen
The daring elves of yore.
With NumNums three,
Under the TumTum tree
They lunched and brunched once more.
And now, we’ve reached the end.
Written with my dearest friend Ginger (aka undeadfairiegirl) for creative writing.
Mike Hulstrom Jun 2017
Criminal erasers; cowl wearing clue chasers.
Costumed,
Crusading,
Constantly crime-fighting two-facers.

Egads
No real mistakes by the guru doing Kung-Fu:
Calm as Sulu
Simply sampling fingerprints of clues just to enthuse
Any evil on the loose: No excuse

Impartial to dangerous sharks, he’s got repellent spray
Master of all martial arts, in each apparent way
Perfecting corrections to ******* a simple blade
Inspecting collections of riddles, stenciled and sprayed

He lurks in the dark,
Look for the signal in the sky
The rodent that flies,
And gives bad vibes to bad guys

He acts prudishly;
Lives reclusively.
Actuality:
Delivers swift justice with impunity.

Fighting like every breath: the last
His knowledge is vast,
His fortune’s never few from the cash he’s amassed
And his strength is never surpassed

Steadfast; he’s on the enigmatic hunt.
Overly-dramatic with an acrobatic stunt
Committees never get things right
Egads they’re thick as planks.
They need my input every night
And seldom give me thanks.

They tell me I’m a gadfly
And I should go away,
But even if I have to shout
I’m going to have my say.

You cannot swat me like a fly
Or swish your horsey tail.
I’ll crash your meeting every night
Until I’m locked in jail.
      ljm
Love a good challenge.  Part of BLT's word game.  Come join me.
Grasping figurative literary straws
     poetic theme yielded
     farfetched aggregate
i.e., where each dwelling
     listed as figurative Stormy bedmate,
this nada so eminent (Eminem fan)
     lived since the year MM at:
     1148 greentree lane,

     724 railroad avenue, and
     2 highland manor drive, which
     defy obvious numerical pattern relationship,
     albeit tougher than dismantling
     an atomic bomb
     Fermi (Enrico) to create
least common denominator
     nonetheless, aye delineate

laughably limpid, loquaciously lumped,
     and ludicrously as an Uber Lyft
     (please lemme look foolish)
     evincing desperate clamor
     ring blather already
     prepping myself for fallout after,
     I post very tenuous
     schema attempting to enumerate

loosely linkedin previous
     to present physical addresses
     straining credulity to formulate
formulaic relationship between
     street numbered residential places,
     futile endeavor mathematical
     relationship to generate
readying myself (hatches

     being battened down) against
     first responder, who
     doth dare to humiliate,
this self serving ingrate
gnome hatter hood
     awkwardly entwine goofily integrate
ting (Spike Lee's
     She's Gotta Have It)
    
     "FAKE" self importance,
     sans presenting schema
     with literary Bo Jangles
     flourishes, that (EGADS) doth jaculate
utter cheek to jowl (consonant
     to vowel) outstanding
     Uttar Pradesh Khanate,
nonetheless strives to

     feign making Genghis
     (alias Matthew Scott)
     Harris heirs legitimate
if necessary calling on
     Trump to mandate
and/or asking supreme
     court to necessitate
putting sanctions against

     quasi (moe toe)
     POTUS oxymorons
     so American totalitarianism
     can freely operate
in tandem with
     Putin to participate!
Whit Howland Feb 2021
these fits
of cognitive dissonance

we're having

from exposure
to the snow and sun

egads

we have way too much more
to explore

about each other

whit howland © 2021
This sole jeering, albeit grace
full soulful foo fighting - base
sic primate approaching - at a pace
faster than prefer
     hubble even lace
sing electric shoes to
     evade senescence - aging case
closed, asper near

     ring finish line,
     nope, no exit,
     (not even with Jean-Paul
     Charles Aymard
     Sartre) to displace
non negotiable fact
     of life and death,
     a blink'n, wink', n

    nod in sacred space
time continuum,
     quaffing unforeseen
     adventures extant
     within Alsace Lorraine
regarding germane
     human league race,
whether master fully baiting,

    goo goo dolls,
Barbie included, who enviably
retained hourglass figure
     hood never display trace
of aging, always beast
towed with fields a twitter with
     my little “chickadee” face,
nor akin to me,

     when solitary lad
     didst pretend (imaginary)
     beastie boy played chase,
while girls made believe to
     no longer remain chaste,
viz primitive rued
     amen tree snapchat,
     shutterfly, and instagram

     future memories glommed
     courtesy once upon
     time this "mama's boy"
     only brother, now ace
sip ping his herbal
     elixir night cap suffusing
     warm glow to face,
this while count

     ting black crows
     nsync forever
    longing to kiss with
     heart felt being brace
sing against unrequited love
     succumbing to gravity,
     and unable to erase
ravages of aging

     (YIKES) completing
     last two plus months
     regarding LIX
     orbitz riding roughshod
     thru ethereal aerospace
recalling early boyhood snippets

no idea why, when taking a
    mister bubble
    bath with siblings,
an elder and younger
sister nonetheless!

Heaven's (to Betsy) dis allow
wing danger fields vow
wing to protect and bless
     beasts and children – endow
wing inadequate livingsocial
     egads, fore-fend, now
a days such simultaneous show
whirring, or bath,

     asper in above - flow
whir a sad comment
     aery on humanity,
     when one cannot,
     but be faulted bestow
wing unforgettable sibling
     camaraderie making
     a splash together -

     holy cow
"big brother" watching quickly
     contacted and how,
hastening to doorstep
     child welfare pow
were fully advocating
     (nee demanding)
     legal custodian to bow

with demands...,or else...
     get locked up in tow
handcuffed if in sub
     ordinate or cause row
dee ness regard
     ding custody of
     minor, no go
even though dependents

     only freshly crow
wing out of toddler
     call robin hood,
     to help post bail
    necessitating scraping dough
such nonchalant
     activity, would grow
into flagrant ****** abuse know

tub bull lee i.e. ******* poe
tent shill strongly predicted,
     especially **...**...**
Christmas holidays,
     where queen ****
     scent shill average Don Joe
Jacob Jingleheimer
     *******sits on Santa's lap,

     (a veritable stranger),
     this practice oddly enough
     acceptable to status quo
ordinarily kids
     should think "whoa"
upon being accosted, confronted,
     detained...and NOT slow
to run the other way pronto!

— The End —