Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
In Scotland painters favor plaid
Though tartans are likely just a fad.  
When dabbing on the wall
The hand can’t slant at all.  
Glaswegians think diagonals bad.
Postmodernists like Rohrschach blots
But painters prefer polka dots,  
But shaking paint just right
So dots stay round and tight
Is like tying needles in knots.
A widow from Wimberly whistles
And fills all her pillows with thistles.  
So nice on the cheek,
You’ll sleep for a week.  
When dozing on brambles and bristles.
Perhaps it’s to exercise jaws
But a naughty porcupine gnaws
On handles of wood,
So salty and good,  
But they’d prefer popcorn to saws.
A farmer from Farmington sowed
His hectares with freckle of toad.  
When asked what would sprout
He hadn’t a doubt
Of harvesting doughnuts à la mode.
A spinster from Flint once opined
In her day the suitors were kind.  
Though sister was gone,
They didn’t stay long.  
An overfull parlor can grind.
A vegetable sufficiently boiled
And buttered and salted and oiled
Can taste just like meat
Off a parakeet
Or platypus flambéed then broiled.
Next page