Archive | 4:12 pm

Shooting From The Hippo

27 Jun

a.k.a. Unpublishable Saturday Afternoon Whimsy


Jamshedji the Hippo lived in Cooverbai Pond

He was born and raised in its glorious mud

After his Daddy did abscond.

Growing up among sisters, he would pluck lotus flowers,

String them, wear them, and play pretend

For many afternoon hours.

Listening to Beethoven, he would twirl a dainty leg,

And settle down at the end of day

To swig a Parsi peg.

He would pray a tad too earnestly for pretty, pretty Daisy

To waddle over and say hello

But no, she was too lazy.

His hairdresser was Suki the Stork, who labored all in vain,

Try as she might, it was a fight,

To manicure that mane.

If you’re trying to glean exactly where this ditty is going,

Let me know, will you, kind soul,

For I am certainly not knowing.

Stop by, say hi and share a drink, these lines will shortly end,

The author doesn’t appear to think,

But will be glad to see a friend.