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TRYPTYCH

22 August, 2013

SNARK CATCHERS

I loathe the bindersnatches that niggle
and the portstanger with its squiggly wiggle.
My higgeth doth shudder
at the grindstaff’s crude flugger.
Oh how I wish for a Snarkcatcher and friggle.

YOU THINK THAT WAS MARGLE?

You think that was margle and flunch, do you not?
My friend: Pigglebunkers are all that I’ve got.
My nargling can’t help it
if the glancer must smellget.
After all, in the end, it’s all just pig snot.

I’VE SPENT YARNS

Yarns have passed with not one single glatch.
The Snark was a Boojum with nary a batch
of blarnstabbing glancers
or pettyglump stanchers.
My mood, you may tell, is quite overly cranch.

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From → Stories & Poetry

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