The Vibrant Channeled Creator

Once upon a poem
A couplet had twins.
The quatrain got thinking:
A rhyming set wins!

Let’s call in our Grandma
With limerick to sing
“Til lais, haikus, sonnets
And narratives ring!

We’ll have a reunion
Of short poems and long
Of comic strips, videos
Meters and song!

The poets played music
Wrote lyrics and rhymes
The poems danced ’til midnight
‘Twas vagabond times!
9/24/2012
Jeanne Poland

Never Go Picnicking With Elephants Loose
by Catherine Johnson

Mrs. Peabody arrived at the zoo
with a hat and a smile and a picnic for two.
She laid down her blanket, a nice gingham red,
“What a beautiful day for a picnic,” she said.
She picked up a sandwich of lettuce and ham,
while hubby preferred to eat pickles and spam.
They munched on some carrots and sipped cranberry juice.
Little did they know there’s elephants loose.
If only they’d sat just a few feet away
their beautiful picnic might’ve lasted the day.
Mr. Peabody glanced up at the sky,
thinking that thunder was sure to pass by.
Little did he know, that wasn’t the case.
No thunder today just an elephant race.
The warnings went out but neither could hear,
their hearing aids needing a tweak twice a year.
The elephants brrrrd a huge elephant sound,
In shock they dropped all of their food on the ground.
Now up on their knees, arthritic and slow,
a teeny bit faster they needed to go.
Oops they’re too late, here comes the stampede.
Knocked over, surprised, the poor dears weed.
Squish went the sandwiches, spilled went the juice.
Never go picnicking with elephants loose.

CASSOWARY
By Steven Withrow
I wish I were a cassowary,
a double-wattled cassowary
roaming lowlands of New Guinea,
and if you ask me why

I’ll tell you that the cassowary,
the spongy-crested cassowary
hiding away from town and city,
did not evolve to fly

but runs top-speed on sure and steady,
sprints full-tilt on strong and steady
legs forever at the ready
to leap two meters high.

Although he’s almost ostrich heavy,
though he’s nearly emu heavy,
and his middle toe is dagger-deadly,
the cassowary’s spry,

so you’ll seldom spy a cassowary,
a deep rainforest cassowary,
eating laurel fruit and myrtle berry
beneath a southern sky.

How I wish I were a cassowary,
a legendary cassowary
who flees through trees because he’s very
shy—and so am I.

Jeanne’s Response:

Your poems made me linger –
Content and beguiled;
As if lifted to shoulder
To touch in the wild.