The Whatever Contest - poem/prose without 'e's
|Written for "The Whatever Contest."
"A Trio of Rhymology"
Word/Line Count: Lines - 12,12,15
Should a robin or tiny sparrow
land on his arm and sing to him,
Simon Scarycrow is happy,
a bright, smiling chappy
But NOT squawking gulls,
always squabbling, sadly…
and crows who CAW loud and stingy,
spooking him so badly.
Appalling dining p’s and q’s,
and without any bluffing
on any hungry occasion,
will pick out all his stuffing.
Marvin, a mystical magician,
with his long black silky wig,
would affirm it was SO charismatic,
drawing his rapt and trusting fans
into his abysmal, but wondrous world.
No harm, was his thought,
to add gilding to his natural ‘lily’.
Mystical mask a vital part
for cardinal circus acts.
Until a chill-wind blast his way.
With acid rain? No. Sulphuric snow.
A gas mask crucial on that day.
I was out walking, and I found...
my own child,
I hadn’t known I was missing,
or lost and looking.
Could any knowing souls find an abstract story?
Tasting a spiritual sign?
Casual looks might not sight a lackadaisical lady... roaming.
If you’d stop a twinkling to look, hark and mind,
you may sight my signs of anguish,
catch my mournful song,
though it was only a painful groan.
A solo abysmal look could touch my soul...
Only a fantasy?
I think not.