The inside of my car is getting wet,
So I open an umbrella inside it,
I discover that it isn’t a great fit,
A convertible might be a better bet.
THE UMBRELLA CAR – (Drawing: PaC)
From behind our house
a Bullfrog Chorale
serenaded us every night,
It started at eight
and stopped promptly at twelve
going off like the switch of a light.
While they bellowed and croaked
the frogs’ music we soaked
up in all of its ribbity splendor,
Thinking ‘This could be worse,
they could go on all night,
or their singing could sound like a blender.’
LUCIANO FROGAROTTI Famous amphibious tenor. (Illustration: PaC)
Coelacanth
scimitar
sconce and crèche
are words in which you can see
A flexible fungible
letter with moxie,
the magical malleable
letter C.
It’s silent it’s loud
it’s subtle it’s proud
it comes after A and B,
Coy crazy clandestine
Cantankerous cirrus
The bendable mendable
letter C.
UNBE-C-ABLE: Coelacanths are famous fish from the Indian Ocean, which borders on Asia, where curved swords called scimitars were created. (Illustration by PaC)
Don’t kick or head-butt
your brother at all,
unless he transforms
to a soccer ball.
Always use a placemat
to keep mealtime clean,
unless that placemat
is made of ice cream.
Danish, Denmark, Netherlands,
Dutch, Flanders
Flemish.
France, Wales, Britannia
Scotland, Irish
English.
Peruvian,
Bermudian,
Australian,
Toboggan,
How will I ever fit the great big world inside my noggin?
GLOBERTO
Click on the “book cover” image above to see this poem presented as a #StellerStory.
The Scowl So-sigh-ety
meets way back in Angry Alley,
Deep in the heart of Distasteville
across Disgruntled Valley.
If you’ve never met them
I suggest you stay away,
unless, of course,
you love looking for clouds on sunny days.
If so, run to their next meeting,
frowning’s the sole entry fee,
So show a grumpy face, complain,
and join the Scowl So-Sigh-ety.
To see The Scowl So-Sigh-Ety as a #StellerStory, click the image below.
In a pinch? In a bind?
Have an out of style flip?
That’s dampened your spirits?
Put a dip in your zip?
Well no messy hair doll
has reason to fret
who knows the old Ballad
of the Green Barrette.
It’s a song that licks cowlicks
and marches past bed-head,
that makes crooked parts
straight as new tire tread.
So to tune up your coif,
it may be your best bet
to sing that ol’ pea-colored clip classic,
The Ballad of the Green Barrette.
“SIGHT READING IS TOUGH, PILGRIM!” – An artist rendering of the original score from “The Ballad of the Green Barrette” (Photo: PaC)
The Clement Clark Moore standard meets, you guessed it, Norman the Great. Pickle lovers will recognize traces of their favorite brand in the seal at center.
Artist rendering of the mythical Snuggly Cactus from the fabled Friendly Desert. (Drawing: PaC)
The Sun is hot
the snow is cold
babies are young
fossils are old.
The water is wet
there’s no I in team
no snuggly cactus
no sad ice cream.
There’s no awesome hiccups
no soothing snores
no turning five
without being four.
This was the first year I sidestepped scissors, stamps, and the sweet smell of xerox fumes, producing an all digital card out of a table design, photo, and email blast that went out on The Night Before. (Photo: PaC)
Carry them as if your feathers
are all weather,
and you shall not be ruffled.
No business card order
made Jim’s Print Shop squirm
like the monthly one from
the Dublin law firm
of “O’Billy, O’Biley, O’Riley, O’Connell,
MacDougal, MacTavish, MacCabbage, MacDonald,
Kilkenny, Kilpatrick, Fitzpatrick, Kilboyle,
McLanahan, Shanahan, Flanagan, Doyle.”
So many Dubliners would make almost any Jim’s head spin. (Photo: PaC)
Red is dead,
Green can’t be seen,
Blue’s invisiblue,
Orange is gone, too.
Yellow, fine fellow,
And Purple have failed.
So the last working part of my markers
— sniffle –
The caps
— sniffle, sniffle –
are for sale.
ALL THAT YOU CAP LEAVE BEHIND — In the world of markers, caplessness is next to colorlessness.(Photo:PaC)
Whether your trough holds milk, water, or pop,
Drink a gallon before spilling a drop.
How I wish I could draw
something more than a saw
or a hammer’s blunt butt
or its backside, the claw.
My paintings are messy
and sculpture all lumpy,
the sweaters I knit
make their wearers look frumpy.
By far my sketchpad
is my art at its best
and at best it looks like
a burnt scrambled egg mess.
The needlepoint, woodwork
and origami I’ve tried
Have not earned even one
complimentary lie.
So I’ll stick to my pen
and make it make words
and stop drawing things like
flocks of V-line birds.
FLOCK OF V-GULLS : A failsome foursome by The Art School Flunkee
It’s not for lack of sweets that I weep,
Not a bump nor a bruise nor a finger in the door.
Restrictions on TV watching aren’t on,
No concerns being raised if I’ve finished my chores.
In order to say that anything’s wrong now,
Or that I’m being hassled I’d have to lie.
Which makes all this wailing’o’mine a N.A.R.C.,
A good, old-fashioned No Apparent Reason Cry.
Click on the image above to see what a N.A.R.C. looks like up close. (Illustration by PaC)
I know my Dad just loves
to put my toys away
because I see him do it
at the end of every day.
I can’t think why he’d do it
If he wasn’t having fun
Bending down and picking up
every ball block car doll clay clock truck bike book bell and drum
under the sun.
Yes, I’m sure there’s nothing better
For dear old Dad each night
Than to find and file and shelve
Every last plaything left in sight.
DOGPILE OF FUN – One peak in the mountain chain of Dad’s nightly handiwork, that lucky dog. (Photo: PaC)
A long lost pal
of Crazy Horse
was far less well known
Lazy Horse
Who napped most hours
of the day,
waking only
to munch hay.
When others asked,
“What is it, huh?
why are you so, Lazy?”
He said,
“’Cause this way I’m dependable,
which I reckon
sure beats Crazy.’”
(Illustration: PaC)
