Quadruped Quimby

Quimby

While planting in the yard I noticed a hole,
Remote and camouflaged, near a kobold knoll.
The dirt was pulled out in a small little mound
Deep inside for a quadruped, a home had been found
Never would have noticed this queer tiny friend
But the roses were blooming and I needed to tend
When I peered into the ground two eyes peered back
I feared for my life this tetrapod would attack
I ran for a shovel but only found a rake
To fill the hole in the ground for everyone’s sake
I ran from the shed after a swig from the flagon
I returned to the hole and there stood a small dragon
At first I was scared but then I could see
He was just as frightened, even more so than me
He promised he’d be kind and wouldn’t hurt a soul
If he could just live in that hole down below
With contemplation and thought I finally agreed
In the garden he could stay if on the bugs he would feed
He pledged no flowers but only insects he would dine
Now I only see Quimby when I drink of the wine.

Q

Adventure to Journey Unknown

Adventure
The Challenge

Join me, friends for an on-line road trip,
We’ll explore the world, while red wine, we sip.

Pack yourself a comfort food bag,
Perhaps well puff a clove cigar fag.

Who will we meet down around the corner?
A vagrant, a prostitute, a man of honor.

Journey through this writer’s imagination
Experiencing daily a new creation,

Prepare yourself to laugh or to cry,
Or feel bizarre anger for no reason why,

I’ll write what I know and say what I feel,
Jump on my wagon, I’ve got the wheel.

The grass may be greener o’er yonder the fence,
Sometimes my ramblings won’t make any sense.

I promise you this, I won’t let you down,
On your face I’ll put a smile where once there was a frown.

The cows in the pasture and the pigs in the corn,
I’ll spin you a yarn and toot my own horn.

Grab a partner and let’s do-si-do,
It’s A-Z blogging, and away we go!

A

Don’t Bite the Hand that Feeds

House

The grass grows thick and the weeds sprout taller
“I want the lawn cut!” the landlady hollered.
When things were pretty, we did all we could,
She always commented about her soil being good.
It’s not just the soil that makes a garden grow,
The farmer that toils it, nursing each planted row.
She won’t give credit where credit is due,
She only sees dollar signs, such a shame, but true.
We treated this place as if it were our own
Now that we’re leaving she wants to pick a bone,
Take care of this, and get rid of all that,
She’s forgotten all about her own hazmat.
We’ll do all we can to leave the place nice,
It won’t be infested with roaches and mice
When we first moved in, this place was a joke,
General maintenance and upkeep made us broke

    house1
The hedges needed trimming and some creative cuts
Grass needed watering, and filled in the ruts
Paint on the house was chipping and flaked
Tons of pine straw needed to be raked.
The roof had a leak and screen door broke
The back porch in shambles this is no joke
“I’m quick with a fix,” he said with a drawl.
My man did it all; not just handsome, but tall
The hedges were trimmed up in unique fashion
Lawn mowed, watered, flourishing green with passion
Scrapped, taped and painted in just a few days
Replaced the roof metal without delays
Over and over we tried to buy this place
Didn’t want to sell it, she smooth-talked with grace
“Stay as long as you want, I won’t raise the rent,”
That was before her money was all spent.
afterhouse

 

With all the upgrades and hard work we‘ve done
Town took notice and higher taxes have begun.
She said the increase is only due to insurance,
This and our opportunities are a happy confluence
What she doesn’t understand is we are not deceived
Insurance doesn’t benefit us, as she’d have us believe
Adventures await us, over the road in a truck
She’ll take advantage of the next innocent shmuck.