fantasies – itinerantneerdowell

In Search Of Lost Limericks

Donald knew
If he waited
It would be
Too late
His limericks
Fated to a drawer
Waiting for the day
When pigs flew
Impossible things happened
If he was persistent
He could conjure up
Something, that had
previously never existed?
His mind wandered backward
To when, knights
Rescued distressed
Damsels in castles
And performed
Other feats of derring-do
Then, Donald paused
To ponder the science
Behind everyday appliances

Time Perceptions

Low hanging clouds
Muted red, white, blue bunting
Thunderstorm laundered freshness
Parallel rails gleamed, bright, shiny
The church modernized
To multi-storied multipurpose
Urban decay apparent
Businesses, closed, boarded
For lease, available, in perpetuity
Buildings, once revered
Despised eyesores
Didn’t matter anymore
Yesterday’s classics, abandoned
With cracked windows
For who knew, how long?
Cryptic messages mocked
Sensationalism skipped town
And, the world hadn’t ended

Junque Extraordinaire

I know, four years later, this picture was of Mr. Sherman’s collection of curiosities. It’s a head-turner, every time I pass by.

#################

It takes a
Sense of humor
Some craziness
More, than a
Smidgen, of
Zaniness

Marching, to
A different
Drummer, to
See hidden
Beauty, treasure
Mementos, under
The surface

Among
The whatnots
Thing-a-ma-jigs
Bric-a-brac
Beneath, the
Ordinary
Lies, the
Extraordinary

–http://www.lynnjordanphotography.com/–

From the Clutter Of a Disheveled Mind

I missed the era when euphemisms, metaphors, and, even, mixed metaphors proliferated. It took creativity to come up with some of them–blind hogs, acorns; horses led to water; the art of catching flies with honey, instead of vinegar. People talked around things instead of going straight for the jugular.

It was a dreamlike state–watching silent movies with captions. For some odd reason–I knew when it would rain. What to do when people ran out of crutches to lean on? What would bowling on the moon be like?

You would be surprised to learn–as I was. Prognosis, everyone was waiting for payday–it was only Wednesday. The diagnosis was hypnosis. What was that out the window? It was a fog bow. And, you didn’t know? Open another box of “try not to act surprised.”