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Our Boreal Natures

Good afternoon, faithful questors. As always, the pleasure is mine! Oh no, you’re far too kind. No, YOU are!

Apologies in advance for the annoyingly Canadian essence of today’s post. I suppose my roots are showing through, time for a fresh dye job.

First, the (next) terrible joke, “last year there was a terrible murder committed at the local Bad Boy location, police apprehended a viable suspect but the crown was unable to achieve a conviction due to a key piece of evidence missing. There was, you see, noooooooo body.

You would think I had at least a kid or two with the dad jokes we fling around here. Inner children should count, poorly as they’re children but at least up to say 10.

Now it’s necessary to get this poem out prior to snowfall, else its material shed germane status with the rest of itself. So let’s do that!


“Are Boreal?”, October 12, 2021.

They’re old folks and yet newborn 

So long grown while freshly shorn 

Metronome arms crisp salute 

Dignified stand then acute 

Frantic leaves wave so heureux

‘Fore flitting jaunty adieu 

Circle of faiths perfection 

Seasoned treaties affection 

Hello, goodbye, see you soon

Please forgive my dear friends strewn.


Are boreal what? Pff how am I supposed to know, I’m making this shit up as we go along.

I stole some inspiration for this from the old kid’s books/ show, “Madeline”. They would always make their rhyme scheme easier for them by writing in both French and English, so pourquoi pas? I mean, when in brome, am I write? It’s primarily because I crafted this initially not to rhyme but then for whatever fleeting artistic notion switched it up and refused the necessary alterations to make it mono-languaged. It was overly tiring.

Vous êtes formidable, comme toujours! You’ll remark I used the less colloquial, “vous”, since we’re close acquaintances naturally. 🙂 French can be so étrange, why so many verb tenses? It’s mad and maddening and Madeline!

And so we close on one of our more unusual posts. Then again, madness is relative, like anything else. Granted it seems to be a rather close relative of mine. Of course, genealogy has never been of particular interest so I’m minimally invested. More bad puns in this piece than you can shake a stick at.

Be blessed my friends as surely we are, acknowledged or not.

Happy Trails and Waggy Tales!

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: comedy original poetry

Tagged as:

dReadpoetssobriety

A fractured mind held together by cellophane and some used tack.

1 reply

  1. I’m feeling grateful that you only have 2 languages under your belt, otherwise my chances of understanding you would drop into the single digit percentages. You are a wizard with words, I’m just not sure if you are Gandalf or Sauromon. I’m personally going for Radagast, animals are my heros.

    Liked by 1 person

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