Everything is ducky in their house I bet
I turned and saw the twins – Annie and Annette
Wearing duck hats and ducks on their feet
With dour expressions, they never look sweet
Sure, just ducky I agreed and we all had a laugh
The elephant, raccoon, me and the giant giraffe
Annie and Annette have been grumpy since day one.
I do not think they have even once had a bit of fun
The fact that they dress in ducks is amusing to us
They look stupidly silly, said a sloth name of Gus
He rarely comments, said the elephant’s daughter.
I smiled myself as these grumps came out of the water.
Wearing ducks as if to say everything is ducky
When their expressions always say the world is yucky
The contrast brought a bit of a smile on me
Then they turned and dove back into the Indian Sea.
Cohorts of suits distort
Court the last resort
Damnation of immigration
Onslaught in cahoots cavort
Pander to propaganda slander
Escort darker fraught faces
From other races caught
To starker places.. shunted
Hunted like a sort of sport
History debunked
“Before” skunked & kerplunked
Lore of Yore junked
Fossil fuel full sumps
Well More is More
Trees flump become clumps
Of gnarly snarly stumps
Petrol pumps pour
Sheriffs thumps any grumps
Tariffs Gazumps…prices soar
Ready for the final encore?
Golden is silence, words often said
Written words linger inside one’s head
Poets have ways of leaving their mark
In the stars and inside someone’s heart.
Reader and writer may never meet
Yet words swing along to one's heartbeat
It’s a poets gift of art come through
That lifts one's spirit when life is blue.
Poems of love leave one warm and snug
Alike being tucked up in a rug
Those of faith, there’s many can relate
They guide folk to the Lord’s golden gate.
Tribute poems melt the toughest hearts
They mean so much, are top of the charts
To recipients words mean a lot
They're alike sweets from a candy shop.
Poetic humour brightens one’s day
A laugh a day keeps the grumps away
And in the silence of loneliness
Cheer up poems are simply the best.
she was purple and black with silver streaks of anger
we saw her rising above the crowd and felt her wrath
a cantankerous balloon, she is, she cannot be satisfied
This was stated by more than one person
I could not help but wonder if it was my Aunt Ann reincarnated
She was the grouchiest, meanest being I have ever met
And I have met several grumps and rumps in my day
I watched the balloon rise above the crowd
As she traveled over the woods, the timbers turned black
the crowd began to cheer, for we were all lighter now
optimism and joy returned the minute she lifted up over the trees
Signs Of The Times
Miracle Man
5/3/2024
Our lives will experience many speed bumps,
Designed to move us from the path we travel.
Perhaps God’s moving us away from our grumps,
Before our present path causes life to unravel.
America is polarized, and severely divided,
The story that each days news cast sends.
But I can’t worry because tomorrow’s decided,
and the Bible tells me how this story ends.
Mark 13:8 KJV
There are ghosts in her closets, ghouls on her stair.
If you visit my grandma grump, it is best you beware.
I’ve seen a see-through body with half a head.
It looked curiously like my deceased cousin, Little Ned.
No one else has seen these ghosts, it is a fact, and true.
I know this is curious and peculiar to me too.
The doll who could was confident in every direction.
Her enthusiasm and excited joy spread like an infection.
The grumpiest grumps in the world could not stay mad
With the doll who could around and this made me glad.
I took her to school, I took her to the playground and work.
She went to the mall where rappers were starting to jerk.
They stopped spouting mean stuff and talked about candy, cotton.
She had that effect on people, they all stopped feeling rotten.
Pierre Maruse lived in a house that wasn't like any other.
One window down lived the queen and her crown,
Right next to her world-famous brother.
Oh, brother of mine, I'd give you a dime!
For Booette's kisses to you.
Please don't pout or flout about,
I could not afford all the love I see,
So, give her a kiss for me!
On the third floor down was a clutch of clowns.
The three elves: Wish, Promise, and Hold.
Their faces were square,
And they were always fair.
They would smile rather than scold.
The fourth floor down was below the ground,
And somewhat damp and cold.
There lived a slew of grumps.
In window one, Bad Breath, king of the evil smell would appear.
Window two had China Doll,
Whose eyes were squinched enough for two.
Window three was the home of Min Chee,
Of the pointy beard and rumpled nose.
And last of all, mumbling across the hall,
Was Cross Talk the irritable.
Outside, in a crack of the stoop,
Waved the sunshine flower,
Who bloomed once, every hour!
Pierre Maruse had a very odd house.
4 years of happiness
Not really bliss
But something between
I had friends
Church friends
School friends
I lead a youth group
People showed up
It was fun
Church coffee shop
Everybody loved us
Even the grumps
Childcare
I met young parents
I watched their kids
Hope and expectation
I was meeting my goals
I was living
Groups at the library
For young folk like me
Everybody was hopeful
It's no wonder so many
Remember so fondly
The years of positivity
When people had hope instead of expectations
Joy at the smaller accomplishments
And forgiveness for your failures
Shuffling my life around like a gambling cards
Even when I know I may win or lose
But what do I have to lose?
I bet nothing
I’ve been evolving around my kindred circles where I place my priority into my shield
Hoping not to be Hopeless but I gain more less
For I satisfied their thirst even when they left no grumps for me to smash on
They all pretended I have the best closet to my face and laughed behind me sheepishly cause they garnered my rags for their fashions
For I learnt in a hard way when the humiliation brought upon me didn’t pass through my unlock window but my locked beloved heart
I wept joyfully to lose the key to my Paradise
I burnt the bridges like Jacob and become Jeopardized
I purchased a dream in greaves of Graves
I lost my humility to become horror of my situation
I sacred my ego for my alter
I protagonise my redemption for my Antagonism
Then I named the VILLAIN
all gym op Ill chumps free caw’s paces.
ball brim bop dill thumps see jaw’s maces.
call crim cop grill pumps knee saw’s cases.
nonsensical word play is the aces!
doll dim drop shrill humps plea yaw’s places.
fall flim flop frill rumps tree slaw’s glaces.
hall him hop jill lumps dee flaw’s races.
sing song rhythm leaves graces.
enthrall limb lop bill dumps knee straw's laces
mall mim mop cill grumps lee vaw's faces
paul prim pop hill stumps wee heehaw's praces
melody keeps me jumping glaces
saul stem stop zill mumps jee gnaw’s braces
tall grim plop thrill plumps zee draw’s vasesp
wall whim whop pill frumps kee shaw’s daces
loving this poem and her traces.
In flower beds in three or four cities,
Hugging along white painted walls,
Lie stands of Shasta daisies,
Blooming summer and even fall.
Almost the size of saucers,
They bob and say a cheery “Hello.”
To grumps or chortling child alike,
And even some happy fellows.
Fresh, they are my favorite,
My mother’s perennial transplants,
I adore, yes adore, those Shasta daisies,
More heavenly than a monk’s plainchant.
Others may cherish red roses,
Still others may cry over the face of a pansy,
But I, I will always love my daisies,
In my heart they will live as the fanciest.
the sunspots ensconced
behind howdy-do curtains
a cockcrow in lace
white watering can french blue
white sprouts of ivy deep green
unhackneyed eggs bright brown
the pale yellow sun flickers snow
and no one wears silk nightgowns
as knees fall, and wrinkles like weeds
are read on the backside of palms
that hurry the yolks and sizzle
the bacon, pour coffee into old cups
one for the geezer who grumps
but puckers up for his buttercup
Cantankerous, crotchety, crass, crude, crazily charismatic and confident.
Hold my own with the best of the grumps, forcing them to back down.
Ornery in my abilities to build a door on which you are too fearful to knock.
Long days and night spent doing exactly what I want, bothered by no friends.
Enthusiastically excited about my solid undisturbed pursuits.
Recklessly irritated when the phone rings, or someone interjects a voice.
Iconic in my love for being alone and unperturbed, loving my freedom.
Creativity taking me by the hand and leading me into imaginative sole pursuits.
Eternally Lovely now,
The Bride of my Dream of Gold.
And rolling down grassy slopes,
Whose smiling heart ne’er grew old.
Eternally Helpful, too
The Braid in my burgeoned beard
That round my loquacity ropes
And sees that I’m rightly reared.
Eternally wise and kind,
The Bread of His Life and strength
The Child of the King of Hopes
The Lifeline of endless length.
She rides through the ethers now
E’er calling forth clouds of snow
The crying child, helps, as he copes
Wherever his troubles may go.
And so, I have finished my tale,
Except the Divinest part
The poor fool who grumps and mopes,
She JOLTS by her Heavenly Art!
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