The Dance

I saw a werewolf dancing a jig

He jumped, he spun, he shifted his wig

With twinkling toes and red-sparkling nails

His laughter echoed through hills and vales

His grin, his teeth, incredibly big

A handsome werewolf dancing a jig

His partner, a fairy in sparkling array

Acted as if she were dancing for pay

Amid  bold sneers and snickers guffawed

He heard only admirers applaud

That handsome werewolf dancing a jig

Was outdone by a talented pig

Judges awarded ribbon of red

“I thank you,” the winning dancer said

“I beat you fair and square,” said the pig.

Then that werewolf quit dancing a jig

    A Teacher’s Lament

 I spoke with your teacher today,

And this is what she had to say:

Please tell Billy I like him a lot

But not when he licks each tiny spot

Of food off his plate.

It’s just plain gross.

It’s not polite to pick your nose

That’s why tissue’s good for blows

Putting snot between his teeth

Makes kids stare beyond belief

You just don’t do it

It’s just plain gross.

He needs to keep his shoes on his feet

The stench smells like rotten meat

While in the playground yard

Children find it too hard

To forgive him.

It’s just plain gross.

People don’t put their hands on their butts

And scratch until they make big cuts

Blood through the clothes

And a stick up the nose

It’s just plain gross.

Wedgies are not fun to receive

And when he complains, I believe

He only got what he deserved

Get back that which you served

And whine not

It’s just plain gross.

As far as work, Billy’s losing out

He wrinkles papers and runs about

Seldom sits for more than a minute

Pencils in places where they don’t fit

He’s failing

It’s just plain gross.

There’s not much more that I can say

Except that you should be on your way

To talk to Billy.  Tell him I care

For him I’d go anywhere

To find him help.

He’s not that gross.

Flowers, Flowers Everywhere

It didn’t take too long to realize

That I had begun to fantasize,

And I was forced to carefully apprise

The situation before my eyes.

My time had come, that much was certain.

I stupidly stared at the white curtain,

After my legs had stopped their dartin’

And my poor heart had ceased its hurtin’

The doctor, a diagram he traced

Of my heart: at me he boldly faced

And now declared, as my eyes gazed

At my demise. I was sorely fazed.

Later that day, I died, to my surprise.

Sad I was this good world to be partin’

The flowers still remain where they were placed.

The Poet

There once was a poet named Sue

Who struggled when words away flew

She wept salty tears

Which washed away fears

Until she knew what to do.

This poem was created during a writer’s group meeting. The prompt was to write a limerick. The pattern was given: AABBA along with how many syllables per line.

Child’s Play

Easy, breezy, light and freezy

squeezy, sleazy, sometimes squeaky

Fluttery, buttery, I’m not nuttery

Cattery, splattery, but no flattery

Speedily, bleedily, just not greedily

Eerily, blearily, eyes are tearily

Quakery, shakery, give me cakery

Flakery, bakery, do not takery

Snuggle me, bungle me, don’t tungle me

Spangle me, dangle me, please jangle me

Laughy, gaffy, just plain daffy

Play with words every dayfy