The Land Of Odds

Walk with me into a world of no restrictions,
Where ostriches fly, penguins fly, even dolphins fly.
A world where cheetahs plays poker,
And elephants play rugby,
This is the world of creativity,
It was created by the gentleman himself.
 
It's where I go before I fantasize poetry like this,
My poetry comes from the "The Land of Odds",
That's why I recite things like:
The misunderstood dog spent a day understanding the misunderstood people.
Also things like:
The broken ostrich spent an hour using his power to make things sour.
 
When you step into "The Land of Odds",
You are greeted by a talking, walking, singing, dancing, laughing, clapping, everlasting duck!
Call him uppy ducky,
He ask you for your fourth name,
Translation nickname,
Then he starts talking, walking, singing, dancing, laughing, clapping and it's everlasting,
So let's leave him to that.
 
We are now in the "Land of Odds",
First stop is the vanilla river of complex phrases,
We're greeted by my Blackmunchers,
What's the cost for the ride? Only your imagination.
The Blackmunchers give you a fishing rod and I get one too and off we go,
I go first I pull out:
"Don't trouble trouble till trouble troubles you".
You have a go, you pull out:
"The lesser become greater depending on the weather".
And sadly the ride is over.
 
Now we get in the Mars Rover,
And take a little ride to the airport,
There we're greeted by my Bluemunchers,
And we get into my fighter jet.
I command the flight you just enjoy the sights,
Our destination is planet Poetry!
The countdown starts and we take off...
10 minutes later we have arrived,
We're greeted by the Redmunchers,
And here we take a walk,
Down the valleys of secret words.
Up the mountains of rock hard punchlines,
And our last stop?
The slide back to those unique gates.
 
Our journey has ended.
Hope you enjoyed it all!

Poetry's More Than Just Words

People often ask me why I write poetry. Some may just see poetry as boring words which make no sense but that's pro'lly cause their mind doesn't have the ability to comprehend such beauty. I write poetry to express my thoughts, to voice my opinion, to tell the world something, to make people smile and it goes on. When I write it's like I drift off into a world of creativity and freedom. I'll describe it in a poem soon called "The Land Of Odds". Stay tuned!!

The Yellow Cave

Down in the blue valleys where green shadows gallivant,
They search for souls to make their own
Pleasure seekers.

Their offspring brings happiness to the being that is nature,
They breathe out life in it's primary stage;
Beautiful life it is.
Crystalised stalactites even envy its beauty,
But leave them alone and they die
Spewing out colours that ooze from their openings,
Making a way for new beginnings.

But deep in a certain blue valley
Where a certain blue majestic mountain dwelled,
It resided with a flowing purple river,
Home to some voluptuous beasts,
They found pleasure in being superfluous,
Never taking mind of what was at the bottom,
No wonder they died.

But deep in a certain blue valley;
Lied the yellow cave.
The yellow cave,
Legend says the last of the voluptuous beasts dwells there
Its size unknown
Its colour unknown
Its creativity limitless.

Adventurers who were eaten by the menacing mouth of the yellow cave,
Were spat out never the same,
The mystery of the yellow cave was mysterious,
It left some people delirious,
Not even the beasts of the valley,
Would go on an excursion into the mouth.

So shadows continued gallivanting,
Beasts continued being volutptuous,
And beauty was ever present in all forms,
But today the yellow cave still speaks
To nobody.