Poor Imp

Oy, there were pieces of poetry this month; some of them rather inclined to do backflips and others that sat much too solidly on the ground.

Oy, only one option that can't be beet. Or it can be beet.

This is the nook for National Poetry Writing Month forays and assays. :: 13 April 2026 :: how spring does not in Boston Warped by weather, winter’s sinking I think ...

Oy, 'tis always Pat Buchanan.

Attempting serious over a still childlike heart; dark curling hair, bespectacled; fond of plaids and plaits and her younger brother. Quisp

defenestrate

If you could have tea or coffee with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?

This one is missing a big piece of its story skeleton. But it's close. It simply doesn't tie up all its threads. Spooky Retelling of: Red Riding Read with this ...

Jozef Kredenc, you know, znachit someone like this: chelovyek shto has too much cigarette, not enough lip. Long lean fellow, ladna but not fast, da? Actually, dyestvityelno , he's Polish. ...

Ponyo: "Haaaaaaaaam!"

Er ... **Bump** this little bloke of a thread up.

Oy, I recall Snoink from right off the first step. Snoink (and Griffinkeeper) were ubiquitous and...er, has it really been twenty years? 0_0;

Oy, semi-colon: It's got a mean hook.

Er, shopping the works; I mean, working shops. Something like that.

I can do a bit of this! Oy, Christmas in February. ^_^