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Stop Watch

Karen Robiscoe dba CHARRONs CHATTER

Q: Alice Little why’d

you wander

after rabbit

falling under

lepas lure

was it wonder

or waistcoat watch

that led you yonder?

 

A: Neither, nor

I tell you plainly

led me forth

it was mainly

rabbit feet

I find them dainty

besides the fact

they’re lucky—ain’t they?

 

Q: And when below

you quaffed in quarts

abandoned potions

cakes, and tortes

growing tall

and shrinking short

was that prudent

before Queen’s court?

 

A: I must agree

my judgment failed

when aromas

nose assailed

delightful scents

made senses bail

–excepting cakes

they proved quite stale…

 

Q: and what about

Mad Hatter’s fest

that you attended

on your quest

empty-handed

was that best

from uninvited

party guest?

 

A: In retrospect

I should have skipped

the gathering

or brought some dip

but in defense

my ass was kicked

from all that happened

on my trip.

©Karen Robiscoe

daily prompt: interview your favorite fictional character

Popped

poison_sign 
skipping thru

bubble gum culture in a fog

ponging and bonging ears

–hair drugged up on Peroxide

an’ so high

it buzzed bee-hive high

her cover—jealous, so she

gave her face its fix, too

tying off flab by the dime roll

spank you very much

because soda pop bones

break with the smallest provocation

©Karen Robiscoe

Poem Platters (opt.)

balloons

Poetry’s a party

with soul.

Paper invite

writ on wool.

emoted, noted, spoken, coded

a load of odes,

or so I’m quoted…..

a bon vivant

who’s on a role…

 

a Bard’s a card

who cuts the stack.

Top to bottom.

King to jack.

jotted, blotted, thought & plotted

hot in spots,

if she’s besotted…

a raconteur

to shuffle pack…

 

Tale Tellers

crochet weave.

Darn a yarn

of make-believe.

distort order without border,

knit two-bits

into a quarter…

a priceless stole

of all perceived…

 

a Melody’s

the sounding bell.

Wordless note

of notes that knell.

nixing, fixing, and remixing,

harmonies

that every pitch,

is suited with

a lyric meld…

 
 

©Karen Robiscoe

prompt: yarn

Karen Robiscoe dba CHARRONs CHATTER

Yardstick

ruler

I buy towels

I’m not good enough

to use

feed

silverfish

expensive clothes

keep memories

on my

to-do list…

dream dreams

too perfect

to dare

Lose

things never

mine–

try

and don’t

believe

but, oh!

I want

—and wanting

do exactly

what’s

necessary

to insure

that’s always

the case.

©Karen Robiscoe

Hot, Cross Buns

breadthe grindstone

crushes many grains,

call it bread

or call it pain,

the milling crowd—

the grist within it,

stones don’t care

if chaffe or millet

–if flowery white

is kneaded from it,

it rolls its load

no heed to crumbs

that break away

from bread then baked…

like Antoinette

it could be cake…

bread

only bread insists specific

every flower by rights terrific

the bakers lording

choice of mix

like bankers hoarding

golden bricks…

bread

golden loaves

are packed and labeled

to complement a humdrum table

every slice

/ familiar cut /

they never mix banana nut

with sourdough

–although the blend

might suit the diners

in the end.

©Karen Robiscoe

Come She Will

calendar

September

~reaps~

October’s

dead

November

e< a< t< s

December’s

red

January

———–>starts

————–>anew

February’s

♥ love ♥

for you…

a lion’s

March

–as April jests!

from

May

/ pole /

moves

that

June

mOOns best.

July

unleashes—

August’s

dogs

that guard the yard

September

.crops.

©Karen Robiscoe

I Know

Karen Robiscoe dba CHARRONs CHATTER

My I’s are all spoken

& so is my knows…

by that same token

I lip-read my pose…

 

My ego—so super

is tight under lids

ephemeral rumor

to govern my id…

 

My I’s are so pretty!

in make-up & shadow

from fathomless deep

to skitter-bug shallow

 

My knows—problematic

it’s big and it’s small

& in the right lighting

it’s not there at all.

©Karen Robiscoe