wearing of the green (inspired by Infinite Dwarf)

wearing of the green

There's pandemonium in my head
the little people are stomping around
clogging down memory lane
Stephen King is lurking about
hiding behind a polka-dot toadstool
and there's a foggy mist in old London town,

Woe is me,
I'm caught in an arachnid dream,
still trying to find a way out
from gallons and kegs
of Wild Irish Rose and Murphy's beer

Sorry, I just can't help myself... after all,
it's St. Patty's Day and it seems I'm sore out of luck,
someone please make the world go away,
spinning spinning,
I'm turning a bit green.

:-

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY TO ALL!

— Kailashana, Mar 17, 2009

About This Poem

About the Author

Critiques

Tonya

17 years 2 months ago

hahaha.. hmmmmmm, too much

hahaha.. hmmmmmm, too much celebration? and is that what green beer will do? Frankly, I love this piece. Entertaining, whimsical! Love the play on words and sharing the green in your meaning. Very well written. Top of the day to ye Lass! Always Sincere, Tonya

Kailashana

17 years 2 months ago

Hi Tonya, glad you enjoyed

Hi Tonya, glad you enjoyed my romp. Truth is I've never been drunk; high, yes.. in many strange and exotic ways... LOL! Tonya, you look like a friend of mine, Catherine. I miss her so. ~A "We have to try to get rid of the notion of time. And when you have an intense contact of love with nature or another human being, like a spark, then you understand that there is no time and that everything is eternal." Paulo Coelho

Tonya

17 years 2 months ago

lol, well, drunk, high…all

lol, well, drunk, high...all a state of altered existance, for awhile! lol and ya know... can never have to many friends. Very nice to read and meet you. :) Happy St. Patty's Day ~Tonya

Nordic cloud

17 years 2 months ago

Arachnid

I've never heard of St Patrick's Day as webs of sounds from a spiders weavings, the weavings of the noisy people around you adding to the stupor you are slowly descending into, great fun and games Anna. That word arachnid, sounds like some strange drink, perhaps we should make a new one for that day, which was this day then ( or am I getting drunk?)? I have never been drunk either, perhaps one shouldn't say it out loud or we shall have herd of Neopoets out to get us drunk? Sh!! Ann of Norway.

Kailashana

17 years 2 months ago

Top of the morning to you,

Top of the morning to you, Ann of Norway. That's the one thing I wish I could do, transport myself to you and you and you, all the you's in my cobwebbed head. Would be so nice to break some Irish bread, a sip of beer, share Mulligan's stew (or corned beef and cabbage) and *YOU*. A herd of Neopoets, hmmm. that sounds like a poem I should be writing. Ha ha! they heard the locusts were swarming dark storms were brewing in the sleepy town of Neopoet a herd of wordsmith goblins ate all the words of every poem written since and then; they burped and farted droll and drunken images (out loud) Much love. "We have to try to get rid of the notion of time. And when you have an intense contact of love with nature or another human being, like a spark, then you understand that there is no time and that everything is eternal." Paulo Coelho

Nordic cloud

17 years 2 months ago

Bottoms up!

Love the "Wordsmith goblins"- wordsworth telling!!!! "burped and farted droll and drunken images" Oh do write some more this is wonderfully, absurdly , fatastically funny and worth a pint of the best Guiness. I will gladly share your stew --of words too. Perhaps then we shall fart out loud!!! You know, the Norwegian word fart means speed, so I used to wince when people talked about it. Oh it is such fun being 'in' another language, there are associations that only I get, and roar with laughter at, while they look on aghast wondering what I found so amusing. The dew in Telemark is 'doggi', well I ask you? I listened for hours to a local villager telling me tales from the war and his fishing trips, and never tired of them as he 'sang' them in the local colourful dialect and I would have listened for many more hours, at first not understanding a word he said and then gradually forming the understanding I needed, the never ending poem of learning a language became the symphony of magic sounds; their poetry is beautiful too. Skaal, or bottoms-up from Ann of Norway and the British Isles.