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Whimsel Brousel (early version)

affirms to children
the value of good cheer

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Whimsel Brousel, philosopher--
you've likely never heard of him.
Relatively figs to Newton
he was Light
and loved Impossible.
Late one lack of starry night
Whimsel rolled about
in one of his fate's shorter sleeps.
Whimsel's appetite for light
woke up Whimsel,  gnawing
--jawing him to state aloud
"I'm famished for a snack of light."
So Whimsel Brousel
(wrapped in a towsel)
shumbled to his humble kitchen
where there stood
a cupboard...
...is it yet clear his story dates
near as old as Mother Hubbard?
In the cupboard Brousel bared:
"Whyyy, not a speck of light's left here."
Whereupon, our Whimsel Brousel
laid his towel =in= the cupboard
and waxed a candle on it there.
"I'll restore my stock of light
by Natural Regenesis."
(hear the children of today
(shouting, warning)
Beware, Whimsel, oh oh noooo!
We're so sorry...
...Whimsel Brousel cannot hear.
He was deaf you see; besides,
this was all so long ago
a cuckoo clock could never count
nor cuckoo Whimsel ears.
Return there now, now with our Whimsel--
he has glided back to Nodders' Zzzzz.
Thank goodness for inventions--his
nose alarm has just set off:
Ka-choo! Ka-Koff!
rewakes our Whimsel, whooping, whalping:
"Oh my stars! The house! On fire!"
Recall please, our Whimsel Brousel
lived on loosened light?
This was to be, and how it was
one very well-fed night.
Not to worry, not a whit
--Whimsel Brousel healed just fine,
and later could be found a'snooze
in our stumped alder's living-time,
lying on a bed, right here,
of towels, given him by--
children--Whimsel is a well-liked man.
"Joy! My new cupboard's never bare.
All the world is in it here above and near
my stars--the days--all lights
delight for me, that I may live for Ever now,
to remind the young, as real as Life
no-one should be hungered in the Light."
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10 Jun 06

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  Whimphel is  at home
accepting visitors under the alder.
 — netskyIam

This is a beautiul poem for children and adults, there's more to Whimprel then mere whimsy. One of your best.
 — unknown

sorry, makes no sense.
 — unknown

no-one should be hungered in the Light -- yes this has its beauty and truth and realEYEs'd insight -- I like the color'd markers for the effect and yes I bet that every child smiles and nods there heads that we are each no less than the Trees or the Stars and bend toward the Light
 — AlchemiA

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 — chuckle_s

Raised to give notice that this poem by my early-poet self will be revised, just slightly, and recited aloud.  It is older than the indicated date. In its first form I named him (me, in a vicarious way), "Whimphel" (silly).  No, "Whimsel" is the name. Remember he still with us, not really myself. He is =you=, whenever you think of helping others, inventing ways and making the means for better live-conditions to come.  Much to do.  So foolish I am at times, but I mean/t well.
 — Reid_Welch