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Poe’ts Haven


 
I take Crow

for a walk

(off-leash)

–every, every day—

and lately?

Lately I wonder if my

boomeranging companion

isn’t just wingin’ it
 
 

isn’t impersonating a bat

impersonating a superhero

impersonating humility

in a grand sort of way

humility, and oh

–Nevermind

caws the Crow

Nevermind

(just you…)

Nevermind

I always do, though,

and that’s why

I bell

mountain lions

Belle big kitties

to have a running start

(at fight or flight)

though I flat out don’t

–fly—

anymore

–run–

anymore

–fight—

anymore

‘cause I’m newly

seeking

Bears.

I carry bear treats

for

the Bears

I rarely find

(and find so rare)

since bare bones

is just

a typo

and gristlies

scream for

gummi,

and I’m all

about the gummi

these days,

chewy, gooey

gummi

most days

–anyway.

 

Rib Ticklers

if you’re out of your mind

–are you on a head trip?

why is your knee joint

a jerk—

but your elbow joint funny?

if you simmer funny bones

–do you get a laughing

stock?

it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to tell you the

definition of skullduggery shouldn’t be

underhanded.

 

Otherwise–it’s Ordinary

every poet

needs a

Moose. . .

a stampeding

Winkle

to Rip

lid

from the

Bull.

 

every writer

needs a

Mouse. . .

–a pen pal

that clicks

just like a regular pen

–off and on–

guaranteeing

electrifying

output.

 

every wordsmith

needs a

Moos. . .

since having cows

is part of

it

–a process

of moon jumps

that define

bovine inspiration.

 

every artiste

needs a Maws. . .

a >^^<

that couldn’t

curse her

–note extraneous

“e”

(for electronic)

ubiquitous

hitchhiker.

 
 
 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/ordinary/

Baking Soda’ll Fix That

I boarded

flight of fancy

to find

my ticket was in

coach…

and unable to

fly to

castle

in air

the grounding

failed to

deter me

–switching back

I discovered

an alternate route

–requiring new

and sturdy shoe

I scaled the underside

of stare-well

(to Zeppelin)

and jumped–

–faith intact.

Upper Middle Lass

she was

agri’cultured

–all about enemy

turf,

and bad geography,

she was

spit-polished

–extending pinkie

after Bronx raspberry,

and any seeded shell,

she seemed

refined

–like high fructose

corn syrup,

and motor oil–

viscous,

but

necessary.