A Flea, a Goose, and a Lollipop Walk Into a Bar.. (And They’re All Poems)

Well I really have no idea what that title is all about but I have to keep coming up with these things.

My poetry brain was working overtime last night. I can’t tell you why. All I can tell you is that I settled snugly into bed, after a hard day’s work and a fun day’s enjoyment, tired and ready to get my rest, and then suddenly, relentlessly, I was seized with an attack of unabating poetic inspiration. I wrote a poem, then I wrote another poem, and another, still more, my brain twisting and turning, churning them out like an oven. I don’t know what was happening. After I spent twenty minutes on a monkey poem that I didn’t even want to be working on, I had started to feel possessed and unhealthy, and I had to stop myself, and get in bed and stay there. Something was coming over me last night, it’s clear.

This poem about fleas was inspired by the fact that my legs are covered in what I think are chigger bites, and I was laying there in bed with my incredibly itchy legs, twisting and turning, trying not to scratch.

Fleas

Fleas! Fleas! I’m up to my knees, In 10,000 fleas!

I’m scratching, itching, jumping, Jeez!

Somebody please — Help me get rid of these dastardly, bastardly Good-for-nothing, fleas!

The goose poem ended up being about the classic battle of my father versus the geese that terrorize and poop on his lawn. But it simply started with my brain wanting to rhyme goose with noose.

Goose

Goose, Hey Goose! Tell me when was the last time you felt the noose around your neck — The cold kiss of Death?

And do you want to feel it now? Because I have the power to end all your fun with my plastic air gun.

Stop pooping on my lawn. Go away. Don’t come back!

Or I’ll sic the attack dog on your ass. She’s faster than fast — a great black beast named Daisy.

On geese she feasts. A goose is her treat. She’s a fan of goose meat. And she loves to eat beaks.

So I would advise, You go find another lawn to terrorize with your crap!

The last good poem to pop out of my brain last night was inspired by The Jumblies by Edward Lear, where he writes “lollipop paws”. And I just loved that so much that I guess the word lollipop has been stuck in my brain.

Lollipop

Lollipop Lollipop Call it a Jollypop It makes people happy It’s better than taffy

You lick it and lick it And make it all sticky It can be tricky To figure this one out — How many licks does it take To get to the center Of a Lollipop Jollypop Pollywop

They come in many colors — Pink, brown, and blue — And many flavors: Bubblegum, cinnamon, Raspberry too

If you ever find yourself In need of a treat, Something sweet, Take this:

A Lollipop Pollywop Jollybop For you

Muses have mercy on me! Let me sleep tonight..!