Hare hate

If the dog saw a rabbit it would always bark,

Most often than not it would miss its mark.

It hated rabbits but none lived around,

But it remained vigilant to every single sound:

The slightest crack and the barking would start,

Sometimes it would bite, which wasn’t smart.

It would bite people for not hating hares,

Bite other dogs and put on great airs,

As, for the dog, it’s a job well done,

It had to be done, plus it was fun.

Others, of course, didn’t like it one bit,

Being bitten is not nice, now is it?

Treats and scratchings grew fewer with time,

It lived all alone already in its prime.

One day it was taken away by the cops,

And it thought it was only protecting our crops.

Much too much mud cake

Vanilla and ordinary sugar and flour,

Some salt plus cocoa and baking powder.

Mix it all up, add oat milk and oil,

Melt down some chocolate, microwave it or boil.

In the metric system, almost 200 degrees,

For almost half an hour, patience please.

Also, you have to wait till it cools way down,

Burninating your tongue ain’t the best thing around,

With a cake right there it can be frustrating,

Especially with your sweet tooth beating, pulsating.

Be smart now, and sillier later,

Your portions can grow to be greater and greater:

I made a mud cake and now it hurts,

Ain’t much left of the best of my desserts.

I didn’t need to bother any chickens or cows,

But still, I have cake on my cheeks and brows.

Biting into blue tack

Blue tack is fun as it’s a bit like gum,

Except the taste, honestly like bum.

Stick papers to walls or onto a dog,

Which becomes homework gone for a walk.

The gum-like quality shines its most,

If you bite down hard you will see a ghost

Of your teeth much like on skin,

Which warmed my sister along with my grin.

Biting the tack in a circular shape

You have a fence of teeth, no escape.

Then you can fashion a blue tack cow

Inside the fence is where it’s now,

It won’t leave your blue tack farm,

Which is full of blue tack charm.

DIY fountain

If you want a fountain but are not a mayor,

Or a rich person who employs a bricklayer,

You don’t need the political power,

You can always go to where you take a shower,

Take the shower head and let the water flow.

Mind that your feet don’t get soaking wet, though!

Turn it upside down, the stream flowing up,

Change your position for a good close-up.

Now you have a fountain and voilà,

Pretty and soothing, just one flaw:

You can’t customize it with bushes or straw,

No naked cherubs or mermaids or such,

But personally I never liked them much.

The water is beautiful and quite enough,

It will sooth a day that got too tough.

Dual wielding swords

I watched a YouTube video on historical martial arts. Apparently dual wielding two swords was mainly quite silly, whereas a sword and a dagger were a good combination.

 

Swords were normally used with a shield

Or just alone, single-wield.

Using two, from a real point of view,

Is for those who don’t have a clue.

Dual wielding in Dark Souls is pretty cool

As the character won’t stumble like a huge fool.

Drizzt Do’Urden used it as well,

And, as proven, it made the books sell.

It sounds like a source of a flurry of steel,

Barring a mistake that makes the metal squeal.

Double long blades is only for sport,

But if one of them happens to be short,

Now that’s an idea, for a riposte,

Or a counterattack worth a foaming toast.

Parry with the dagger, lunge with the sword,

That strikes a real, medieval chord.

(Also, war hammers, maces and such,

Weighed about two pounds, not that much,

About as heavy as the ones who do the poking,

Which is not related, just thought provoking.)

Cleaning my room

I rented my room away,

As someone needed to eat by day

Sleep by night and have no one say:

“Go home you bum, here’s not there!

You will give all of our tourists a scare,

Besides, it’s cold and you’re not a bear.”

I cleaned it, of course, the walls and the floor,

Fixed my DIY knob on the door.

(People get shocked handling a toy boar.)

Hid my poems for awkward’s sake,

Otherwise they’d sing and keep her awake,

The bad ones might make her laugh and break.

I thought I cleaned it till ready and done,

Nothing left over, zero, none.

I even exiled my sheltered fugitive nun.

Some days later, she moved in,

Was greeted by something that had been

Still left over, my abstract kin.

My personal scent gave her a shy smile

From everywhere at once and lingered a while.

I guess, no matter your cleaning style,

You leave your essence there as you live,

The time you spent is determinative.

Infrared vision

If I ever had infrared vision,

I would have truly zero indecision.

I wouldn’t do an impossible mission,

Such a great height is not my ambition.

I’d go on a plaza, that’s what I’d do,

Keep my eye on people quite like you.

Observe the signatures of heat they release,

Their bodies and breathing while at peace,

Occasional puffs of humorous gas,

I’d make note of every lad and lass,

Note how they always quicken their step,

Smile to themselves in the human web,

As they do it, slightly forbidden,

But always as fun, in the open or hidden.

Note how similar we tend to be,

Wind is fun (also for adults you see).