The ramblings of an obsequious rabbit
Have inhabited my thoughts for decades on end
How can it be that a hare such as he
Paused my imagination time and again
You’d think I’d know better after all these years
Of that cute little nose and big floppy ears
That carrots and lettuce and who knows what else
Would harden these eyes to its beautiful pelt
But don’t think me cruel as it was his own fault
I’d built fences, filled holes to make the thing halt
Yet obsession, the little furry creature possessed
Made a martyr of that bunny to all the rest
It was a fine mind…
I wonder if it will ever come back?
Here’s to optimism!
The tin cup harpsichord
Sounds, tinny, at its best
Not a soul can play it, no
It should be laid to rest
But Rooster Oscar Blatherbeat
Just has to try his hand
He thinks the sound is pretty
So, he placed it in his band
No one has the heart to say
“You fool! You’re so
As they let him play
C, F and G bass clef
The tutor’s son
Out to have fun
With giant eraser in hand
Flipped through the pages
Of one students notes
Erasing them just as he planned
But, unknown to him
The tutor on a whim
Had exchanged the notes for his own
Too late did he see
As lost words were set free
His behavior she did not condone
Why the writer fell
No one will ever know
Perhaps the quips and snips he wrote
Were too much of a show
Maybe his plots were way too deep
Or, perhaps not deep enough
If he hadn’t written with crayon, yeah
It might have been good stuff
But no, he fell
All the way down
Now, he needs to write himself out
For when you are two
With nothing else to do
Crayons are good in the mouth
Oh, little red moth
How cute you are.
Sitting on my desk
Should I put you in a jar?
Should take you all around
And show you to my peeps?
Should I move you with the stealth
Of a fighting, ninja priest.
No, I think this time
I’ll just wipe you away.
Because you’re not a moth at all.
Nope! You’re dried strawberry flake!
“It’s hot as blazes!”
Said the Popsicle to the tongue!
“Chill out before you have a coronary,”
Said the teenager to the mom!
“Hot-damn, would you look at that beauty!”
Said the fisherman to his mate.
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens!”
Said the gunslinger to the wannabe.
“I don’t think that frosted look works for you, babe!”
Said the soon to be ex-boyfriend!