"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Saturday, December 17, 2016


Lalamilty ties boredom
with itchemis bows
so can’t will get a rash
and fingers will scratch
scars into no.

She doesn’t like don’t
and she sneers at won’t.
If a rhambangle can climb
the pickimous tree
on only one knee,
 then spoiled children can walk
where the snardiffanous squawk.

So she passes out socks
to protect toes from rocks,
and puts tryhardous candy
right where it is handy.

With a whistle through a thistle
she marches tiny feet that balk
through purple gigglemist stalks.

When the very last whimper turns into a song
Lalamilty tells the wee ones they now belong
to the Wizardlet Order of Rhambangle Strong.

©Susie Clevenger 2016

This makes more sense than politics. :)


gillena cox said...

Luv the giggles of your last verse. Days of childhood adventures written so witti-ly🌲

Much love...

Rommy said...

Lalamity sounds like a lot of fun despite being quite a demanding playmate. The poem reminded me a bit of Pipi Longstocking. I very much enjoyed it.

Kerry O'Connor said...

The photo is so cute - and the tale has such a jolly ring to it.

brudberg said...

This is just like a morality tale for whimpering children.. lalamity is what's needed.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I totally love it - and the adorable photo - I especially love the tiny feet marching "through gigglemist stalks".

Magaly Guerrero said...

I love, love, love the idea of giving "can't" a rash!

Martin Kloess said...

What fun. Thank you for the smile

Ekta Khetan said...

I am singing like that school time song, jumping in orchards and climbing the trees. Yes, this is so much fun than any politics :)

Sanaa Rizvi said...

I too love the smiles around the last verse ❤️ Delightful read!

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