There was an old lady whose yard,
Grew bunches of stars that she jarred;
The night bought them all,
And sometimes they fall,
To get back to their home in that yard.

There was a young lady of Nashville,
Who tried but could never stand still;
She jittered and jumped,
Her doctors were stumped,
That bouncy young lady of Nashville.

There was an old man with a drum,
Who’d play for a drink or a crumb;
Give him a plate full,
He’d always be grateful,
And bring down the whole town with his drum.

There’s a tiny, whiny troll growing on my knee.
He complains that on his back there grows a giant me.

Illustrated by Aaron, whose art can be found here.

I won’t tell you what to do,
To look both ways or tie your shoe.
I won’t tell ’cause I can’t do,
All your doing’s up to you.

We’re not one that’s split in two.
I’m just I.  You’re just you.
That said, whatever you do,
Know this much to be true –
I’ll be right there with you too.

Never have you ever seen
A finer miner than my neighbor Keene.

She seems to find the perfect seam
To tear into the darkest dream
That Mother Earth has ever dug
Of buried bones and burrowed bugs.
She goes where no one’s thought to map,
Tap by tap she makes the gap
That gives because it cannot hold
Against the single-minded bold.

Into the muck and mud!
The sloppy, slippery sludge!
Straight through what will not budge!
Keene goes at it with gravest pleasure,
Bringing up whole trunks of twisted treasure:
Emeralds and gemeralds.  Dragon eggs in sacks.
Silver spiders hiding in Earth’s cracks.
Tearing her way through untold buckets
Of filth to haul out two-ton gold nuggets.

But she doesn’t do it for the mindless worth.
Keene really likes the dirt.

Drawn by Tawna.

Illustrated by Guitarseer, whose art can be found here.

There was a young lady of Prague,
Who befriended a miserable frog;
The poor guy couldn’t croak,
He quacked when he spoke,
She translated, that young lady of Prague.

There was an old person whose suit,
Was almost completely made out of fruit;
Pears, apples, and figs,
It was eaten by pigs,
That old nude’s in need of a suit.

There was a young lady whose toes,
Climbed all the way up to her nose;
Now she walks on her face,
No one can keep pace,
With her marvelous face walking toes.

“Mess maker, mess maker,
Make me a mess,”
Perfect mocked in the tone of one of the best.

Replied Storm:
“I like what I make and can’t guess
At what’s next.  The secret to mess?
What’s broken is blessed.”

“Mess maker, risk taker,
Make me a mess.”

“What’s it like to have every duck in a row?
Never chasing a goose or cawing at crows?
Perfect, you joke without jest.”

“Mess maker, rule breaker,
Make me a mess.”

“You’ll never make anything new
If you only ever follow the rules.
Please, Perfect, let’s give it a rest.”

This plays off of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star by Jane Taylor.

If I twinkle really hard,
If I’m little like you are,
If I fly out really far,
Can I join you, little star?

How I wonder if I gave
Everything I’ve ever saved,
Would it be enough to fly
Up above the world so high?

Twinkle, twinkle, little star…

You don’t have to like me.
The world’s all kinds of grimy.
Anyone you meet could be
Cruel, corrupt, two-timey.

You don’t have to like me.
The way’s all kinds of windy.
Anyone you meet could be
Nicer, better, shiny.

You won’t find many like me.
I’m kindly known as “feisty.”
Anyone you meet would be:
“He’s crooked, buggy, bitey.”

You don’t have to like me.
You just can’t help yourself.

I never liked the ground,
It’s always been too there.
And I must say, as things abound,
There’s not much more than air.
Water, too, is easy found
By sky, on leaf, in lair.
And I must say, as things astound,
I’ll take the fiery rare.

Upton Frass switched heads with a wolf
‘Cause he wanted to better bark, howl and bite,
And Wolf wanted to know what it was like
To chit and chat and smile bright.

They did those things and found some others
That they hadn’t thought to think.
Frass sniffed and snuffed, he heard new things,
And Wolf used a cup to drink.

They shared a thought in both their heads
And both their bodies agreed –
They wanted to know what other heads knew,
You might even call it a need.

Wolf and Frass didn’t give their heads back,
They handed them off to other critters, in fact,
The day may come when their heads come back
But until that day, try ’em and pass ’em along in the pack.

Illustrated by Marissa whose art can be found here.