Whatever You Happen to Be

The invitation arrived on Twernkle at three.
An envelope addressed upside-down to me.
It said, “Come dressed as whatever you happen to be,
or something that wiggles like Jell-O that’s sugarfree.”

Mayor Zwatz was the host, so I knew from the start
there'd be whizzlewear, sneeklehops, some questionable art.
I peeked in my closet. It peeked right on back.
Then a socktopus waved from the depths of a rack.

“What does one wear,” I asked my sperkly left shoe,
“To a party where nothing is and isn’t true?”
Should I go as a witch with a floofle or two?
Or a sous-chef in green with an anglingshelk stew?

When I got there, a creature with seven left knees
was serving fizzickle punch beneath unicorn-scented sheets.
A cat wore a schwap on a rat wearing three,
while something named Blunderbink winked lovingly.

I spotted the host eating pink-and-orange tripe
surrounded by serutacts of every old type.
He asked, “What exactly are you my dear?”
I shrugged, “Honestly, sir, I've been wondering all year.”

He laughed a great snickerwhirl, tipped back his hat,
and said, “well, you’re the best costume---imagine that!
Everyone here came as something bizarre...
but you, you came as yourself, the strangest by far.”

For over a month I have been trying to write a poem for a contest that has to have a least one made up word in each stanza. I was trying to write in my usual style, about my usual topics (heartbreak, anger, sadness...blah, blah,blah) and just create a silly word, but it wasn't going well.

I then read Sara Wilson's The Cat in the Hat Thinks You're Being a Brat and realized I needed to return to the classic of Dr. Seuss and just make it entirely silly.

Make sure to check out Sara's poem which is an August Top Story!!!