"pipping" poems
It started out a day like any other.
Down at Billy Bobs Nuclear Power Plant and toaster repair.
Where I sit in front of the monitor
with my dumb blank look and stare.
Until my friend Jim came in,
with coffee, doughnuts, and a magazine, he had grabbed from the john.
Wouldn't you know it the centerfold was gone.
So, I stood up to stretch and yawn.
As I sat back down I knocked over the coffee,
And the jelly doughnut rolled out the door into the hall.
The array of toasters went up in flames,
as did the magazine and the wall.
Jim started talking like Captain Kirk,
as he went into his Star Trek mode.
I slapped him hard across the face,
and informed him this Enterprise was set to blow.
That's when we both turned and saw the florescent green ooze,
seeping under the door.
At that point it was every man for himself,
as I pushed the elevator for the 13th floor.
Leaving the babbling Jim behind,
with the elevator on its way,
pipping in a soft musical version
of Jimi Hendrix's Purple Haze.
(which seemed to me rather odd)
Once the doors slid open,
thinking there's never been a 13th floor before,
I was surrounded by flesh eating zombified rodents,
About to become their lunch de jour.
As the zombie rodents zeroed in,
my friend Jim showed up...What luck.
With communicator in hand, and in his best Kirk voice,
He said, "Scotty beam us up".
As we were high in the sky,
I saw half of the south implode.
As boring as this day started,
you never would have know'd.
I hated to leave the world behind,
In such a mess, after my coffee spill.
One thing I did leave, believe you me,
Was Duncan Doughnuts the entire bill.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
mild, so mild in the night
to travel with the earth
amongst an early starlit bloom,
muddy fields fill the air
with pubescent June.
goslings waddle, fuzzy scurries.
mother, father,
enlarge and hiss
protecting their long months work,
now free from pipping shells.
so cool is the night while
laying hidden in uncut fields.
chilling winds dance atop feral growth.
sanctuary for outward gazing,
through to unknown worlds.
there is no envy from a distance.
breath feeds wonder, spilling over
into this vessel, so soon to be forgotten.
spoiled from within, the unborn,
rotten. a shell too hard to crack.
there is no nest for that sacred sibling.
forgotten by mother and father.
their failed incubation, rotting.
lost amongst the stars
but within the field of all.
Apollo sings to Pollux and Castor
stroking somber tones from Lyra.
"Greet the voiceless into forever;
attach to them their rightful wings",
"chirp, chirp, chirp"
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 1:33 AM UTC
Sweet little eyes black and shiny.
Curious with my work, he's chirpy.
Hops and bops about, I trace a smile.
Beak, now agape, sings for a while.
'Rotund little Robin won't you dance some more?'.
'Skipping and pipping upon the forest floor'.
'Red little tummy containing your words'.
'Lost on my human ears, yet not unheard'.
'Little Robin, so happy, why am i not so?'
On little Robin I focus, my mind is sewn
"Be happy with your job" says Robin
"And fret you not of my boppin'"
"There's work must be done so dont you be a'stoppin'!"
"Though i might flutter from twig onto branch"
"My home is left decided by human chance"
"Should we build here or should we build there"
"Words of men against Robin, no matter how fair"
"Sweet little song you qualify my shouts?"
"Without ever considering what they're really about?"
"All I've ever seen of humans is their louts"
"So this boppin' Robin needs a'helpin' out"
"I see in thee good it is true"
"Hope; that never shall you see green land in gloom"
"Yet in back of your mind i see thoughts of doom"
Robin flutters away and I am left to wonder.
Should I leave this world now will I be thought of fonder?
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
I had gone looking for trouble.
I found it.
I had awoke in a sour mood. Very unlike myself at all. I am usually, always in good cheer.
Almost, always.
I was spoiling for a fight.
The need radiated from me.
Even Crystal could sense the difference in my demeanor.
The flea bitten, sweet, craven coward.
After donning my new Peacock blue cloak, with the black pipping and carrying my gold tipped, lions head walking stick. I left straight away.
I walked for miles. Ending up in the seediest part of the city. The Docks.
I aimlessly wandered the filth strewn, cobbled streets.
Passing many an Ale House.
Finally, my preternatural hearing found the sounds of a fight.
Why, it was an all out riot.
Off I flew to join in.
Fists flying. Daggers plunging. Walking stick cracking skulls. (that would be me)
What fun!
I held back from using my immortal strength. I wanted to feel each time my fist met flesh. To have to Pick teeth out of my knuckles.
One chap actually caught me a rather right smart jab to my chiseled chin.
Exhausted, the men crumpled to a heap.
Only I remained standing....and the fifteen or so Policemen watching the fray from a respectable distance.
I have always prided myself on being a law abiding, upstanding citizen. As it were.
So, when they started gathering up everyone and loading them into the Jail Wagon. I went along, as a lark.
What a buffet!
By the time we reached Central Station, I had sipped upon many a fine blood.
When the Police opened the rear doors of the wagon, I jumped down to the ground, tipped my hat to them and simply (to his eyes) vanished.
Preternatural speed can be so amusing, when used correctly.
By now, my description will be bandied about. A well dressed gentleman ghost. A polite wraith. A handsome demon.
I like that. A Handsome Demon...very apt.
I am in a much better spirit now.
~Lord Kellington
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 5:33 PM UTC
Reality is like a dream
When you spend all day trying to escape
From its weight
Which like an elephant fills the room
Pull open the door and step away
Like a phone box whose bigger on the inside
The mind always finds a way to hide
Where fae and fairy folk dance their magic dance
Fair maidens say their right words
And young hobbits smoke to victory
Pipping away their pipe songs to the sound of groaning trees
Dwarves become kings having fought themselves free
When padfoot, wormtail and prong create mischief along the moving stair
And a boy who lived once again
No reality can be rather lame
Because adventure awaits..
"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit..."
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC
are
my tears
mock me
again
grindersedges
for your skin
wool
man
pipping stars
watch them hatch
stone glaciers
keep calming
me back
?
...
..
.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 7:59 AM UTC
I see a pear tree with ONE partridge and feathers grand
that makes heart sing with love.
I gaze at TWO turtle doves flying in unison
quenching eyes to feel empowered.
I hold THREE french hens and celebrate
natures greatness to move with gratitude
I hear FOUR calling birds that sing in songs grand
that expands heart with compassion.
I hold FIVE golden rings that harbor energies
of dreams that become my reality.
I watch SIX geese lay golden eggs
as sign for prosperity during new year.
I see SEVEN swans a swimming graceful
reminding of my divinity and elegance.
I wave to EIGHT maids a milking who share
their egg nog concoction with me graciously.
I observe NINE ladies gracefully dancing,
with rhythms grand to commemorate season.
I celebrate TEN lords a leaping who remind me
to carry faith every moment.
I listen intently to ELEVEN pipers pipping
who echo with music to praise the season of giving.
I hear TWELVE drummers drumming
to welcome in Christmas as I celebrate life
and sing out Merry Christmas
to one and all.
And with 364 gifts infused in this poem
I move with gratitude for all I have
and all you as readers are.
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 1:11 PM UTC
Oh tea
How you comfort me
I want you pipping hot
Curse the day if you're not
Oh tea
How you know me better than most
You're with me through biscuits, curry and toast
Through the sadness and the jokes
Oh tea
We're together when my slumber breaks
Before and after afternoon naps
The solid, the broken and the cracked
You're my constant, that's a fact
Oh tea
You put your trust in me
Making you is an art, you see
My colleagues didn't understand
The severity that was in their hands
Oh tea
I'm sorry for the disrespect
For the long life milk and unsealed tubs
For the dust and 2 second snubs
The stained mugs and shrugs
Oh tea
You're the perfect friend
When my social skills have come to an end
Whether out ‘n’ about
Or on the couch all cosy and slouched
Oh tea
I take you everywhere
Without you? imagine the despair!
I must declare, you make me feel like a millionaire
A cup of you is like a prayer, without you I'd likely swear (a lot)
Oh tea
In a teapot, mug or cup
The choice is lucious enough
When someone comes through the door, the kettle goes on for sure
Oh tea
Through joy, celebration or pain
Disaster, pandemics or vain
Through loneliness or togetherness
You've always been so generous
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 10:05 AM UTC