And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse
Happy Poetry Month!! :D
This month is ultra-super-busy and stressful, my brain may explode at any moment, and I probably shouldn't be on here at all, but I shall still strive to post one poem every day for the next 30 days because it is important to me. (Poetry Month is my second-favourite time of the (bibliophiliac) year. First is Banned Books Week, of course, which I always wish was a Month, but like to celebrate every day, regardless.) At any rate, as long as I'm posting poetry you'll know I'm still alive. (*wibbles*) If I can make it to May 11th without suffering a nervous breakdown, I am going to do something frivolous. I don't know what, but it will be FRIVOLOUS. (Well, and also probably free or at least cheap, because money is also woeful of late.)
So, to start, we have a silly poem in honour of the Day of Fools. :)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.
Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.
But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.
The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.
Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
~ "The Tale of Custard the Dragon" by Ogden Nash
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Also, today I ditched Communities of Practice class early to go on a field trip with my Children's Lit class to the Library of Congress, where we got to see the Rare Book Room and the Children's Literature Center. The building is so PRETTY and there are so many PRETTY BOOKS. I kind of desperately want to work there. ♥
This month is ultra-super-busy and stressful, my brain may explode at any moment, and I probably shouldn't be on here at all, but I shall still strive to post one poem every day for the next 30 days because it is important to me. (Poetry Month is my second-favourite time of the (bibliophiliac) year. First is Banned Books Week, of course, which I always wish was a Month, but like to celebrate every day, regardless.) At any rate, as long as I'm posting poetry you'll know I'm still alive. (*wibbles*) If I can make it to May 11th without suffering a nervous breakdown, I am going to do something frivolous. I don't know what, but it will be FRIVOLOUS. (Well, and also probably free or at least cheap, because money is also woeful of late.)
So, to start, we have a silly poem in honour of the Day of Fools. :)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.
Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.
Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.
Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.
Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.
Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.
Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.
But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.
The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.
Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.
Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.
Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
~ "The Tale of Custard the Dragon" by Ogden Nash
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Also, today I ditched Communities of Practice class early to go on a field trip with my Children's Lit class to the Library of Congress, where we got to see the Rare Book Room and the Children's Literature Center. The building is so PRETTY and there are so many PRETTY BOOKS. I kind of desperately want to work there. ♥