A little man dressed in green
played upon a tambourine.
He slipped near the edge,
took a tumble and a fall,
crawled under the door
and into the hall.
He was oh so tiny.
He was oh so small.
There’s no more to tell.
It’s over. That’s all.
That wall of fog with fingers is the wily labbimist.
Shun its cloudy twinings. On this I must insist.
For if it should enfold you in its milky sightless seep
captured there forever you’ll be lost like Bo Peep’s sheep.
It’s a walking, talking pile of rocks
Rance Marl is its name
It doesn’t own a pair of socks
It’s not afraid of flame
It’s said to be a marvelous guide
On one of its boulders you may ride
the mud hen is a stubborn bird
it won’t come when you call
you must lure it with a song and dance
while balanced on a ball
Reach for the ceiling
Reach for the floor
Reach for the window next to the door
Reach for the sky
Reach for the sea
Reach for the bird on the top of that tree
Reach for the dog
Reach for the cat
Reach for your money and put it in my hat
Nonsense poems are always green unless they’re red or blue. The one below is orange.
Hungry
I ate a plate of flavored nails,
some porridge and a boat.
I was still a little hungry
so I ate my sister’s coat.
I went outside to ride my bike
and found to my surprise
I was still a little hungry
so I ate a tree with fries.
I made the fries from twigs and rocks.
They tasted not so great.
I salted them with dirt and dust.
And that was all I ate
except for many other things
and the garden gate.
I finished the puzzle yesterday
but it’s missing one of its pieces
It’s not on the floor or under the door
or in the couch cushion creases
Where oh where oh where did it go?
Where oh where oh where could it be?
One thing for sure without any doubt
it can’t be in snow under a tree
Look at this room
It’s not a mess
How often must I tell you to tear your dress?
Look at your hands
Not a finger missing
You think a 2 eared head is worth me kissing?
Unshape now
Get rid of that nose
If you want to play in the tombstone rows
This self-deprecating yellow owl has worked her way into the story of NUTH, although she doesn’t think she’s worth it.
Soon to join her relatives over there on the right is the cover for The Snows of Charborr Forest, #8 in the middle grade fantasy ebook series, The Bekka Chronicles, from Wild Child Publishing.
