Things seen and unseen in the world of waking dreams,
a land past reckonings where nothing's what it seems.
There rocks are as hard as cotton candy,
the crowds of clouds are soft as stone,
and wherever one is dared to fare,
they're assured a ripe hot scone.
The mountains are made of Mountain Dew,
the trees of a thousand beetles.
Pillows are banned throughout the land,
as they prefer a bed of needles.
The writers of this wondrous world,
who are by far the best that never were,
are two score wiser than the wisest owl,
and as smart and sharp as the mink coat's fur.
Yet to me, a lesser intellect, their pearl's honor they did anoint,
to say that poetry, like life, doesn't always have to have a point.
Reviewed for the contest, "ISLAM, US & UN: 3 rictameters"
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