Tag Archives: Toads

Re(Collections)

Posted on October 11, 2018 by whimsygizmo

.. Tonight, tonight, my plans I make: to spin real hair from all this useless strawman’s gold, to hold …………(perhaps) a child of my own instead of stealing someone else’s. To call myself a man, a sham, a king, a … Continue reading →

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The Land of Un(Sleep)

Posted on June 15, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. The clock is ticking (me off) again, tocking too loud again, clicking and clocking the hours lost. The moon is mocking my lack of sleep, my uncounted sheep, the tilted cost of thinking too hard at 2am. I, too, … Continue reading →

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Dragon Moon

Posted on June 1, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. She’s a white curl snarl of bright stone, shone in fire and song. We watch her tail turn black, wane smudge into this talon-punctured scrim. She swims across the inky ocean, curved into her own dark flank. She’s listening … Continue reading →

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Night Bane

Posted on May 25, 2017 by whimsygizmo

“I’m the thing monsters have nightmares about.” – Buffy the Vampire Slayer  .. Do monsters dream? A swirl of stakes and garlic and revealing mirrors and silver bullets? Are talons sharpened on the wool of counted sheep? Howl at that … Continue reading →

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Partic(ip)le Wave Dualism

Posted on April 30, 2017 by whimsygizmo

… They’re going. They’re shifting sands, changing hands, altering stars. They matter. They’re smattering themselves in nothing less than always, nothing more than forever. They’re clever little waving things, winged cur rents, working theories, bright sigh -entific discoveries. Microscopic dreams. … Continue reading →

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pen-ultimat(um)s

Posted on April 29, 2017 by whimsygizmo

… perhaps, this is (definitelyprobablymaybe) the second to last (to last to last) ………………(too fast) poem i shall ever pen , she tells herself. ……………………..and laughs.     .. prompted by toads.       

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The Monster Under the Bed

Posted on April 28, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. He’s well fed, what with all the cookie crumbs and occasional pieces of cheese. But please, don’t wake him too soon. He’s exceedingly grumpy until at least noon. And whatever you do, don’t sing. When given just the ghost … Continue reading →

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Pickup, Aisle 2

Posted on April 27, 2017 by whimsygizmo

… She was really only there for peaches. But still, she fell – melon ……..over …Man ………..-olos. .. prompted by toads. Also a fun older shoe poem here.   

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Poemriah

Posted on April 26, 2017 by whimsygizmo

I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me. – The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton  .. Looking in {again} , I wonder just how long it’s been {no doubt} since I was on the inside, looking out. . … Continue reading →

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Strutting His Stuff

Posted on April 24, 2017 by whimsygizmo

.. He’s all that and that bag of chips, one for his shoulder and one for his bright-eyed tail. He’s turquoise and turned, poised and ready for his runway show, decked out in his finest feathered trails. He’s pride and … Continue reading →

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