When you’re searching for the crupleprat
you have to look beyond the zimblebeam
and walk the willyways and follow turlytats
through wind and rain; see there she gleams
in fur and diamonds, with her spotted skin
rejoice with her, your crupleprat, walk
slowly north and yonder to the rumblebin
sit down a while, drink fumbletee and talk
and gaze at stars and she may show you where
to find the galaxy named Tumpleskin,
which is the place for planet Bombamare,
a place abundant with her starbound kin.
“In Bombamare” said she, “the streets are gold
and crupleprats wear velveteen and glump;
we dance the brumbala till we get cold,
drink fumbletee and nib from galamump”
And you may stare into her nineteenth eye
and lick her tentacles while wondrin’ why
the sky turned pink, while on your gnarly knees
you rest, say thanks and bid goodbye.
When you’d searched for her the crupleprat
you’d looked beyond the lonesome zimblebeam
and walked the willyways and followed turlytats
but through the wind and rain she’s gone it seems.
Hello all, today it is Open Link Live at dVerse, where Lilian hosts. I made the choice of expanding my little nonsense poem from last week into epic nonsense.
January 20, 2022