the panda

there’s a purple spotted panda at the bottom of our street
who’s dressed like how’s your father from his head down to his feet
he’s speaking in italian, a language he don’t know
of the wampus cats awaiting where the welkin’s hanging low

the ground is made of taffy though they not a one said please
but wrapped him up in spider’s web and brought him to his knees
and all the pretty butterflies are flying much too soon
while children dance upon the path that leads them to the moon

the leaves are made of iv’ry on iconoclastic trees
the depths of their despair can be heard floating on the breeze
mice and rats will comfort you when all your money’s spent
and sing you christmas carols just to carry you through lent

now i have never been there, and i guess i never will
for though i love you dearly, i’m peculiarly ill
and everybody knows that pandas rarely tell the truth
a symptom of celebrity they picked up in their youth

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  1. damommza

     /  September 24, 2015

    Absolutely lovely and adorable!! You had me at “wumpus cats”’s possible that you are better in this poem than Lewis Carroll was in some of his. This poem defines “whimsy.” Kudos! 😀 😀

  2. Clappity Clap 😀 ** Takes note of “welkin’ and “wampus” 😉 **

    • Thank you 😀 That’s how the line came to me, and I have found arguing with my subconscious is a waste of time 😀


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