spring sprung (Remove filter)
Tickled Green
a little baby finger tickled
the large pot-belly,
but the heavy sleeper slept on,
out like a rock
the giggling tot
mischievously said, ‘again!’
wiggly-wormy fingers dug in,
but the loafer was idle,
simply a fat lump.
it’s well known, little kids don’t give up,
and indeed, not this little tyke
who thought the slumberer was playing,
pretending to ignore
with renewed resolve, the b...
Sunday 14th March 2021 2:22 am
Recent Comments
Tom Doolan on Poetry Is Pain
1 hour ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
16 hours ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
17 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
20 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
21 hours ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
21 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
21 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
22 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on The Policemen Arrest The Men.
22 hours ago
Ray Miller on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
23 hours ago