Tag Archives: Poem

Bedtime Story: Zippedimus Cue

Zippedimus Cue
By Dan Bergstein

I can’t tell you anything about Zippedimus Cue.
If I did tell you something, I don’t know what he’d do.
I can’t tell you anything about Zippedimus Cue.
Or his dogs or his cats or his helium stew.

I never met him and never knew him and never went to his house.
I know nothing about him and I don’t know his spouse.
And I know even less about his titanic mouse.
And I never saw him wearing his blue polka dot blouse.

I’ve heard that he’s tall but allergic to height.
And there have been rumors of his teeth made of flashing red light.
And we all know he used nine owls on that terrible night.
But how can you prove his mom’s tongue was pure white?

I know he hates attics and invents new types of whips.
I’ve read only twelve of his novels and five of his scripts.
And he works underground or while sailing on ships.
He calls his left eye “My Dragon” and his right “The Eclipse.”

I don’t know him at all, so how can I tell,
If his underground lighthouse is really a well?
And it’s not for me to say where he learned that one spell,
That turns chickens to trees at the sound of the bell.

Don’t ask me his age or his favorite song,
Though I think he’s 107 and sings with a gong.
And I know he once was an astronaut but something went wrong.
His neighbor has told me, “His toes are too strong!”

Zippedimus Cue has a daughter he made out of clay.
At night you can hear her turn gold into hay.
And did you know he makes candy in the forbidden way?
And he owns a pet rabbit with wings — at least that’s what they say.

I’ve heard he has a sister who married a bee.
And I think his first finger is shaped like a brass key.
And there’s one other thing I know of ol’ Z,
All of this time did you know he is me?

Daily Transmission #36: The Kring-Ding-Zing

The Kring-Ding-Zing
By Dan Bergstein

Some play the tuba, some play the flute
Some play the trumpet with a loud brassy toot
But of all the instruments and musical things
You ain’t heard nothin, ‘til you a hear a Kring-Ding-Zing

It’s bigger than Earth, and wider than Mars
It’s made mostly of strings, but not like guitars
There are also nine pipes, and a whistle you strum
And what looks like a mountain, is really a drum

The ocean is solid, it’s one great big cymbal
It wobbles and shakes, so the fish must be nimble
The whole thing is a planet, and look — there’s a moon
But if you look closer, you see it’s a bassoon

There are titanic horns and mile-long keys
There are bells bigger than clouds and chimes taller than trees
There are forests of harps, and jungles of lutes
And when hiking the xylophone you must wear special boots

There are levers and wires, pulleys and chains
That connect all the things, like tracks of a train
Every bleeter, every blooper, every bonger, every beeper
All are linked up, and controlled by the keeper

It floats out in space, too big to play here
It takes giants to tune and three giants to steer
But only one person knows how to play
She has practiced for years, she’s Gwen Dinah Bouquet

Gwen knows all the noises and all of the tunes
From the prairies that honk to the valley that croons
She pulls on the ropes and presses the pedals
She pounds on the keys and the mountain unsettles

With a boom and hoot, and a treble and bass
The music lifts up and floats out into space
It bounces off planets and echos off skies
It soars across galaxies, the song never dies

And right here on Earth, if you squint with your ears
You might hear the song that’s been playing for years
It sounds like a whoosh with a thunk and a ring
But that’s not the wind, that’s the Kring-Ding-Zing!

Daily Transmission #15: The Daisy That Rose

The Daisy That Rose
By Dan Bergstein

Next to the rumbling highway
In the wild grasses and weeds
A small purple flower
Talked to her small purple seeds

“You will one day be planted
And then slowly you’ll grow
But listen my children
There are things yet to know”

“You can grow to the left
You can grow to the right
You can grow ziggy and zaggy
Or grow only at night”

“I won’t tell how
Or yell if you’re wrong
But let me just tell you
Of Daisy Susan, the strong” Continue reading Daily Transmission #15: The Daisy That Rose