Sometimes I Sits And Thinks...

and sometimes I just sits...and sometimes, I wander Blogland and learn odd things...like on THIS POST (click to read it for yourself) where I found a challenge I couldn't resist. So here is my very first attempt at a Rondolet.


When love grows cold
don't mourn its passing, but reflect,
when love grows cold,
a different story may be told.
Let Cupid's arrow not deflect!
View not its piercings with regret
when love grows cold.

Umbrella Sucide?

Many clear raindrops

fall onto dead umbrella.

Blood drips from its spokes.

I'm afraid the prompt on this week's Mapie Tales set my warped sense of humour in motion! 

Sorry, Tess!

Ouch!

Mr Bumpy got his name,
(you'll guess the reason why)
because he kept on looking up  -
up towards the sky!
He'd not watch where his feet went,
or what may lie ahead,
but stargaze upward all day long
until he went to bed.

There he had no problem
for ceilings are just fine
for always looking up to -
he could do it all the time
and use it to draw pictures
on, as if it was his mind!
For in imagination
that white world overhead
could be painted with a rainbow
of fantasy, instead.

With thanks to the Poetry Jam, and apologies to M J Fox for messing with his book jacket in the interest of composition!

Washday Blues?

55 words, thanks to G-man for the prompt & picture!

 
Gremlins in the wash, Boss?
Oh, what a todo!
And don’t forget the white stuff,
which comes out looking blue,
or red or pink or yellow
as socks slip in unseen,
adding lurid colour…
Then one's face turns green
with bile, unlike those clever dicks
who always seem to realise
how to avoid such tricks!