See You Real Soon ~ a Nonsense Poem

John is a poet and short fiction writer who enjoys collaborating on stories with other writers, and partaking in challenges.

Inspiration for This Poem

In her fine article 'Colours: Their Wonderful Namesto Conjour Images in the Mind, Brightening Lives' Ann Carr issued the following challenge.

"So here’s a challenge! Describe an object, scene or person, using colours, but in an unusual way. Make up colours if you like but don’t use the basic, well-known colours we refer to every day. You can put senses into colour-ways if you like, or just invent shades that are exciting. "

As well as being inspired to take up Ann's challenge, I read a poem called 'The Green Parrot of Shakespeare' by Tanmoy Acharya, and I was impressed by the surreal scene created by this poem.

I decided to write a poem combining influences from each of the above. So, here is the result: 'See You Real Soon.'

See You Real Soon

It was in the fern-green month of June

When I set off to seek my fortune

Accompanied by my raccoon, Boon,

In a race to beat the next typhoon.

I bid goodbye to the bride and groom,

Who were honeymooning in my room.

And we sailed to the vermilion moon

In a big chartreuse hot-air balloon.

I guess you’d call me a buffoon

And say I’m flying to my doom.

But I don’t give a purple prune

Of all your tales of doom and gloom.

As we approached the scarlet moon

The altitude had me a’swoon.

“I hope this place won’t be our tomb,”

I said to my black-masked raccoon.

We landed roughly with a BOOM!

Upon a tall cinnabar dune.

Around it many rocks were strewn,

But we had made it to the moon.

Our spacesuits were a deep maroon,

And built-in speakers played a tune.

This seemed surreal, like a cartoon,

Or dream of some Tesla tycoon.

Moon marigolds were all abloom,

I breathed in deep their strong perfume.

Their colours were in such volume,

Sangria, flaxen, and mushroom.

We met the famed Man in the Moon

He gave us chocolate macaroons,

And tangerine jam on a spoon.

Low gravity allowed more room.

He offered me a wine-filled goon,

Made from the best grapes on the moon.

I said, “Just one, I’m flying soon.

I cannot fly if I’m spewin’.”

“To this atmosphere, we aren’t immune,

And we cannot live in a cocoon,

So, we must return to Earth quite soon,

Or else we will risk being marooned.”

He said, “Come back and visit soon

We have a party each New Moon.”

“Of course, if it is opportune.

If not, let’s try to meet on Zoom.”

We got back into our balloon,

Bid farewell to the rouge-red moon.

With more a lift-off than a v-vroom,

We left that lunar afternoon.

We made it back in our balloon,

And landed on a wide pontoon,

In azure seas near Cameroon.

During a tropical Monsoon.

But soon I’ll be back in my room

Defeating all predicted gloom.

I never had a silver spoon

But that can’t take you to the moon.

So, don’t tell me I am a loon,

Or my ring-tailed best friend raccoon.

Our space adventure was a boon,

We’ll only dance to our own tune.

© 2021 John Hansen