To Be Perfectly Honest Poem by Richard D Remler

........



To be perfectly honest,
For I do always try...
I was simply,
Quite simply,
Just watching them fly.
And boy could they fly!
'twas a labor of love
Soaring so high in the sky
Up above!

Just to look at them all!
Each so perfectly pink.
All so round,
And so big,
And so silly,
I think
They may, perhaps be
The most peculiar of all...
Yes! The strangest, indeed,
Of all the odd things
I saw.

More amazing that the
Webb-Footed Gobbtrotter is.
Much stranger, indeed,
That a Many-Horned Snizz.
More fantastic that a
Green-Eared, Three-Headed G'Nute.
Even a Three-Headed G'Nute
Named Ganoot!

To be perfectly honest,
And I do try to be,
They were something
I never
Expected to see.
They were so very odd,
So unique,
And so clever.
I have never
Seen anything
Fly like that.
Not ever!

The Buggle-Nosed Snodd
Doesn't fly.
Not a wick.
And the Nevel-Winged Pflute
Hasn't quite learned the trick.
Even the Tozzle-Moffed Took,
With its Tozzle held high
Could never fly quite as high
As they fly,
Though they try.

And I tried.
Yes, I tried
To go on my way.
I would not,
I could not,
I did not wish
To stay.
I had things to do
Under here,
Over there.
And I tried,
Yes! To leave.
I did!
Oh, I swear!

But high above
The WigWig Trees,
I could hear the morning
Starlight sneeze,
And I heard our Summer's
Hobble Bees
Step out into
The welcome breeze
That moved each
Everwhat just so.
And I know,
I just knew,
That I could not go.

To be perfectly honest,
And I do always try,
I have never seen anything
Fly quite as high.
Yes! Fly quite as high
As they do.
And they do!
I have never seen anything
Fly like that.
Have you?

I've seen the Woodwomps that live
In the Far, Far, Far East.
I've seen the Blue-Spotted Spellit,
And the Kardigue Beast.
But they are nothing compared
To what was up in that sky.
And I've never seen anything
Fly like that!
Oh my!

To be perfectly honest,
And I mean this
Sincerely,
Not a cloud
Was in sight.
I could see them
Quite clearly.
It was like they were dancing
Just over the trees.
Never before have I
Seen things
Such as these.

The Oggle-Toed Tee
And the Warbling Whitt
Cannot fly like they fly.
Not at all.
Not a bit.
Oh, they think they can fly,
And they certainly try.
But how far can one go
On a warbling toe?

Were they but an Ott?
I am sure they were not.
Nor were they
A Nattingquill Newt.
They did not whiver,
Nor swiver,
Nor quiver,
Nor snee.
And they never did
Hobber or hoot.

They simply wiggled their woggle,
Their noggle,
Their nakk.
They shuddled their shim
Like an old
Burlap sack.
They flimmed, every one,
Every one I could see.
Much higher than
Any old flimm
Ought to be.

The Ferciferous Flibb
Doesn't floddle
Or flutch.
They don't really hoodle,
No, not very much.
And they never do wiggle their
Noggle and nakk.
They don't shimmel and shud
Like an old
Gunny sack.

And I'm sure I'd have noticed
A Noggling Nibb
If they were anything like
That Ferciferous Flibb...
I thought of a Boggard,
But that wasn't it.
They were not Willow Bees,
And they were not a Phlitt.

They were not a Poff
From what I could see.
They were not a single thing
I thought they might be.
And they seemed
So very silent,
So quiet,
And so fair.
They never gossipped,
Not once,
About why they
Were there.

They sailed through the sky,
And they danced oh, so high...
And I watched them,
I did,
With every
Which why.

And to be perfectly honest,
There were moments when I
Could just about,
Almost,
Reach up to the sky...
Where it breathed in the morning,
And then sang afternoon.
Right perfect,
On time...
And not a moment
Too soon.

They sailed through
The blue,
Through the cool
Of the sky,
And danced off the mirror
That nature held high.
And they left not a mark
To prove it fair
That they were really,
Really there.
And I had to
"Wow! "
Just a touch.
They deserved
My 'Wow! "
It's true,
That much!

To be perfectly honest,
And I do tend to be,
I tried to count them,
I did.
Every one I could see.
All the round ones,
And small ones~
The short ones,
And tall ones.
The rare, rarely
Seen ones,
And all those
In-Between ones.

All the big ones
And pink ones,
And round ones
I saw.
I tried,
And I tried.
But I could not
Count them all.

Because I needed more fingers.
And I needed more toes.
Some counting-type eyes,
And a counting-type nose.
A counting-type mind
That could count, count, count, count.
Yes! Count, count, count, count
Almost any amount.
But there were far,
Far too many.
And I hadn't any
Worth half-half as much
As a shiny new penny.

To be perfectly honest,
They drew quite a crowd.
And the crowd
Drew a crowd
That was really quite loud.
So loud you could hear them
Ten miles away,
On the noisiest day
In the middle of May!

They tiptoed and they twizzled.
They tozzled and plopped.
They clicked and they clickered.
They fizzled and popped.
They canoodled their noodles,
And then they fiddled their flaps.
They asked tons of old questions,
And then snapped all their snaps.

There were Courtier's a'courtin',
A splendid tour-de-force,
With a thousand blue pidgeons,
And a Prince on a horse.
Who was surrounded by peacocks,
And a hundred G'Nutes,
All wearing identical
Porcupine Boots.

With a Valet of Chambre
Who held a solid gold staff.
And a man togging stilts
Right beside a Giraffe.
There was a Ponchielli Flogg
Who sang, "Hail to the Chief."
And a blue noggled log
Tied into a fine shief.

The Crowd-Keepers were there
To keep track of the crowd.
With their Crowd-Keeper Trackers
A' clickering 'loud.
Their People-Ometers peeped,
As they counted each "Wow, "
Every 'Oh my, " and "Jeepers, "
And every "Kazow! "

They were selling all kinds
Of trinkets and poppers,
Big green balloons,
And a thousand pop-toppers.
Caramel apples
And double-dipped toffy tandy.
Chocolate filled cheese puffs,
And pink cotton candy.

For a penny or three
You could buy a plumb bob.
And for half-half a dollar,
Some corn on the cob.
If you fancied a quint,
You could get one kupie doll,
Two french-fried peabodies,
And a large pizza ball.

There were twelve marching bands,
And a thousand balloons.
Eighteen blue elephants,
And twelve dancing baboons.
Five singing ostriches
That could not carry a tune.
And a rat with a hat
On a purple pontoon.

And to be perfectly onest,
In a most honest way ~
And when am I ever
More so than today?
They tibbled, they wibbled,
They kibbled so well,
Every onezit and twozit
Crawled out from their shell
Just to see every Obb obb
In every which how,
Soaring as high as the winds
Would allow.

That's when the sky thundered
And boomed with a clap!
Rain drizzled down with its
Old tappity-tap.
Each Ickwidget 'round seemed
To popple a pip.
And radishes bloomed
From each porcupine tip.

The Ackinaks,
Oh, they
Had no flittler to flay.
And all that the Mantises
Did was to prey.
The Kedors all climbed
Their invisible wall,
And the Beekels refused
To snorkel at all.

The Tortoises counted
Each and every Ingitt.
But not a one noticed
The Sebaceous Snitt.

The elephants stopped
Their marching,
And let out a
Grand sigh.
They scuttled,
They shuffled,
Then looked up
Into the sky,
With a hifalutin wonder
And just a bit more,
As if they'd seen
A fine something
They'd not seen
Before.

The people stopped popping
Their Feezlenut Poppers.
Their Tweezle-Toed Tappers,
And Butterbean Boppers.
And they fell into a hush ~
And the hush grew and grew,
A quiet that echoed
So very brand new.

And they stared,
Yes, they did,
Far up into the sky,
Their eyes wet with awe,
At what they all saw.

The sky was a rainbow
Of purples and greens!
Of ribbons the shade
Of eight grand Halloweens!
It was violet and orange
All bathed in the sun,
And it danced in the stardust
Our morning had spun...

And then they were gone.
Every one.
Every who.
Every odd little Ibb
That seemed so
Very new.

They bid us the gentlest
Morning adieu,
And then quietly sailed off
Into the blue.

To be perfectly honest,
And I do always try,
I was simply,
Quite simply,
Just watching
Them fly.
Just watching
Them sail
Through the
Sea of our sky,
Before the morning
Turned gray,
And then called them away.

Back into the stardust
Where once they were new,
Back into the rush
Of our soft morning dew,
Back into the green,
And the gray,
And the blue.

And maybe,
One day,
When I'm as old
As the sky,
When I've witnessed
A lifetime
Of winters slip by,
I'll sweep all the stardust
Away from my shoe,
And share one more
Impossible story
With you...



Copyright © MM Richard D. Remler


**A Children's Tale**