POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.


Amphigouri pic

‘Smells Like a Pillow,” Nerva, 2008, Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Nonsense verse, technically termed amphigouri, is the poetic form of literary nonsense, normally composed for humorous effect, which is intentionally and overtly paradoxical, silly, witty, whimsical or otherwise strange. It is particularly common in English, due to the typically absurdist streak in British humour. Some Dadaist writings could also be considered as being nonsense verse. 

-From Arts and Popular Culture (http://www.artandpopularculture.com/Nonsense_verse)

For today’s form, we’re going to go in a weird direction, in a manner of speaking. The idea for writing Amphigouri is varied depending on the source.  Some feel that this kind of poetry pertains to anything witty, silly or humorous.  For others, it means employing the use of made-up words which appear syntactically correct, but are actually meaningless.

Now, we certainly could use made-up words when penning the fun Double Dactyl, but we’ll attempt that as a specific form in a future In-form Poet session (although, you certainly can use the form here, if you’re so inclined.)  The same could be said of nursery rhymes too, so if you wish to make that the set-up for your Amphigouri poem, by all means, do it!

For our purposes, however, we’re going to simply suggest that you make up faux words.  Use your imagination here (and don’t be shy!) The form can be Sonnet, 5/7/5 Haiku, Free Verse, Kyrielle – heck, even Sestina.  But make it a verse of some kind (preferably in rhyme, although it is not essential) and invent at least 3 new words.   Your poem(s) need to seem like they make sense, but actually may not, except maybe to you.

Some famous examples are:

Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky:”

  `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

 John Lennon’s “The Faulty Bagnose”:

The Mungle pilgriffs far awoy
Religeorge too thee worled.
Sam fells on the waysock-side
And somforbe on a gurled,
With all her faulty bagnose!

Edmund Lear’s “The Jumblies:”

Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue
And they went to sea in a sieve.


Christopher Isherwood’s poem from “Poems Past and Present:”

 The common cormorant or shag
Lays eggs inside a paper bag
The reason you will see no doubt
It is to keep the lightning out
But what these unobservant birds
Have never noticed is that herds
Of wandering bears may come with buns
And steal the bags to hold the crumbs. 

Finally, here are a couple of examples from yours truly:

Autumn Leaves

Asunder, they’re torn as flang’d autumn leaves,
t’was nothing of craybors and gravlings and such.
So onward they trobbled as parsifle thieves
and ne’er did make windles or ado on much.

Their stinta in history regales and then grieves –
Surprise?  No, for halloc evades without crutch.
No mord may sing dirges, yet still no reprieves,
and cold of the yarr leaf shakes cold to the touch.


Song of Nooblitz

When e’er I sing a Nooblitz song
my neighbors hold their aurimackles.
I do not think my voice is wrong
so why does this act raise such hackles?

It takes a lot of prit.  This show of
Nooblitz-singing shows nascallent
skill, but still, the neighbors don’t love
me, ‘though I’ve got tons of talent.

Still, undrabbled, I’ll keep singing
as I’ve done each day, because it’s
what I do, ‘though hands are wringing…
Do re mi fa so, La Nooblitz!


So…do you have the gerlicknelloff to try writing Amphigouri poetry?  Yeah?  Well then, let’s see whatcha got…



My froes are tozen.  I would have chosen to teeze my hair, but there are wiglets nesting there.  You may not care, but the wiglet is rare, so I’ll deal with my tozen froes (and not expose my sniffifigant nose).

© copyright Marie Elena Good, 2013



While we write weird, nonsensical poems, Robert Lee Brewer invites us to write a “normal” poem.  Weeeeeeeeeird….

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  1. Dum-dee’s Dee-dum

    Along come the little Dum-dees,
    Dee-dumming as they leap the yake,
    And glugging henoy with bees,
    While counting Yums, five-nine-two-eight;

    The Dum-dees dee-dum all day long,
    And down the path they sing and de;
    But they are nothing like those Dongs,
    Who only count from twelve to three!

    © Copyright (if this actually needs a copyright, which I doubt) Erin Kay Hope – 2013

    This was really weird for me. 🙂

  2. Wm Preston on said:


    I trod the trozen triolet
    whilst traispsing in the Trappan Zee
    to trush my treeth. In truth, I say,
    I trod the trozen triolet
    and tracked a treezer to a tray
    that trembled in a trootsie tree.
    I trod the trozen triolet
    whilst traispsing in the Trappan Zee.

    copyright (oh, what the heck) 2013, William Preston

  3. Some crackling promes y’all’ve plenned. This dressicelated drlame will tly to emlificulate. Bleath-hording not advisable.

  4. Henrietta Choplin on said:

    RJ, Meg… wonderful 🙂 !!

  5. This is not as nonsensical as required, so I will try again later today when my electrician restores power to my house. Remodelling is just sooooo much fun! (thumping head on desk)

    Idle Thoughts During a Morning Bathe

    It occurred to me
    whilst sitting inside my wrinkles of skin,
    sitting there propped in a puddle
    of nearly sufficient water to bathe,
    that wet flannels are not suitable
    for purpose, if washing or rinsing
    be your aim. They’re quite acceptable
    as a wet squirrel’s kiss, or a clingy friend,
    if clingy is what your heart should desire.
    And as I sat there, shivering in 4-inches
    of tepid water, I held that wet flannel
    that spilled trickles of tributaries
    down my arm and dripped like rain
    from the point of my elbow, that the trick
    to beating a wet flannel into submission
    is to never allow it anywhere near water.

  6. Pingback: Idle Thoughts During a Morning Bathe | The Chalk Hills Journal

  7. The Redikerus Rueffious

    The sun’s all graled, the sun’s all graled
    the redikerus rueffious wailed
    and the rueffious fire brigand
    fluffed their clumps with ampersands
    and roared out of sight into the night.

    My nest has been vamboozled, vamboozled to the hilt
    the redikerus rueffious raggedly spilt
    and out came the rueffious consectors
    with shinglettes and prosectors
    and reboozled the nest with zest.

  8. Amphigouri (nonsense poetry)
    “Latent Shown the Sonnet”

    My poem peeps of sonnets in their stew
    it skittles in the misty summer keen
    its cradled in the mind and heart of blue
    a child of wond`ring bottles in between.

    Bold crazing is a mystery sublime
    wherein the doubts of giants intervene.
    They, snoring through my eyes, make my heart mine
    then skip the light so drastic, Billiejean.

    Now, if you would a sonnet sublimate
    grab shovel; find a hole in which to fill
    and in the springtime of a summer late
    replace your soul with sausages and dill.

    Your lessons for diameter adjunct
    your poem’s scatter-manded than you thunk.

  9. magicalmysticalteacher on said:


    Dundering under the sand dunes
    Or wibishing wobbishing waves,
    Conner remembers his manners,
    And biffles bifickitous baves.

    His mother with smithers and smiles
    Dabs dribbles of dust from the floor,
    And Conner, no longer dancing,
    Deblenders away from the door.

    If you find my song confusing
    And not even one word makes sense,
    Go to the mishy-mash meadow,
    And flander the frimishing fence!

    © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher

  10. William Preston on said:

    Much of what I’m seeing here reminds me of old comedy. There used to be a fellow named Al Kelly (Abraham Kalish) who was known for doubletalk. Sid Caesar also did gibberish that sounded like real words (his German general is a classic), and Ernie Kovacs did a character known as Percy Dovetonsils, a poet who was a bit drunk. There seem to be lots of Yoo-hoo-tube videos pf Caesar and Kovacs, but the only one I found of Al Kelly was in a Kovacs video. For those interested, using the terms, “Al Kelly doubletalk” will provide a link to that old excerpt.

  11. William Preston on said:


    A plank and a plink and a plath
    were elected to link and to lath,
    but the plank’s on the plink
    and the plink’s in the sink
    and the plath’s waxing wrothful with Rath.

    copywrong 2013, Silliam Pleston

  12. I don’t know who wrote this, but through research, it seems to be a combination of a very old Welsh children’s poem and an old American children’s poem. Either way, I learned it while stationed in Germany from a fellow Airman who used it as a sobriety test. If he couldn’t say it clearly, he would walk home from the club. As a note, I’ve taught this to all of my children, and they got a dollar when they learned it. They’ll teach it to their children, and remember it for life. Yes, I’m a strange one.

    Impty Dimpty

    Impty Dimpty Diddle-a-Fig
    Deal-a-doll, Dominig
    Iechie Piechie Dominiechie
    Om Pom Pooh
    A bottle of ink will make you stink
    Pew, Pew, Pew

  13. Slipping

    I hope mindlosery soothes like this:
    blouting out words, sproding a kiss,
    bedeckled toppers, flousy blurt,
    all castlewarm and mingleflirt.

    I’ll labe t’others as I please,
    call Goodinchek or Mauseltease,
    or Mamsbrum, Flogginsy, and Frip,
    wave sbun voyage to Schnausensgrip.

    Maybe I’ll spling and vordel some,
    scuss drain with ribbits, flits, and strum,
    and if it’s lightful, potoblue
    I’ll press allcall and stwait for you.

    A smile can recreate the tongue
    ‘til foggy poemed genius sprung,
    and greaders digging through inanity
    discover their own gentlemanity.

  14. ejparsons on said:

    The Mangloopler King

    A dream I once had
    When a very young lad
    Took me to a land far away
    Where blinkers and bleepers
    And purple tree creepers
    Lined narrow paths called skipaways

    A bleeper screamed loudly
    As it skipped so proudly
    “Walkers must walk to the side!!”
    So I started to skip
    Something made me slip
    “It’s the goomberry juice.” It replied

    Then up skipped a noid
    He said, “Try to avoid
    The goomberry juice and maglampers
    One is quite slippery
    The other quite flippery
    Skip only on yellow-green plampers.”

    I skipped on the plampers
    Avoiding maglampers
    To the end of the skipaway I skipped
    There to my surprise
    I soon realized
    I had been there on a previous trip

    The blinkers and bleepers
    And purple tree creepers
    The noid, the ninks, and the gnomes
    All gathered round there
    In Magloompler Square
    To welcome their Kingloompler home

    “May I say something?
    How can I be your king?
    I’m not from around here, you know.”
    The noids and ninks screamed
    “Hey, this is your dream!!
    So relax, and go with the flow.”

    I did as they said
    They dressed me in red
    With boggles and goobles and bleams
    Such fun we all had
    This king stuff ain’t bad
    I will always remember that dream

    © 2013 Earl Parsons

  15. William Preston on said:


    odd up to oddquains, oddly.

    Copyr…. oh, the heck with it.

  16. Henrietta Choplin on said:


    The little fairies spin and glow
    Druidellas color hair with bows
    of ribbons long, enchanting toes
    in sandals draped in cherub clothes

    That whirl and twirl and pearl below
    their hairpins singing soft and low
    to clouds of puffy, misty blow-
    ing thru their wings of glossy glow

    To carry sangs that they have sung
    in churches softly, warmly rung
    the bells that chime when they enchant
    the light in spot that shines BE ~ CAN’T…

  17. Wm Preston on said:


    Pica or

    copywrite 2013, William Preston

  18. d’Cone of Rabbit Ears Ice Cream

    Crimp rabbit ears up like big cigars,
    big piggy wiggy muscular ones
that dribble whimwhip in windyblows.
    Fill china cups with copious creme d’curds
    and twaddle wenches bedawdled in dress.
    Like they used to wear, before boys
plounts! Bring me flowers in last
    jatter news, in 
paper folsers like rabbit ears.
    Let there be 
hickoglyph praise of har,
    and lickstable emperor d’cone,
    the d’cone au’ ice cream 
of pink
    crimped windyblows rabbit ears.

  19. connielpeters on said:

    The Amphigouri

    The amphigouri is wonderful
    Whenever you have happulite
    Simply breathe in bundergul
    The amphigouri is wonderful
    Rhyming is no longer plunderwool
    Just pop in a mapusite
    The amphigouri is wonderful
    Whenever you have happulite

  20. Jerome (a limerick)

    I made an amfriend named Jerome
    Would love to have taken him home
    But the trumeans would laugh
    ‘cause Jerome’s a giraffe
    Yet he toescribes the funniest poems.

  21. William Prestone on said:


    Molten rondelets
    leave circumspection all aronds;
    molten rondelets
    turn basalt into clastic clays,
    hasten harvests on lily ponds,
    and pffft! Only a fool absconds
    molten rondelets.

  22. Pingback: d’Cone of Rabbit Ears Ice Cream | The Chalk Hills Journal


  24. sheryl kay oder on said:

    It has been so much fun to read all of these poems. Recently I have had less time to write or comment, but I read what I can. Keep it up guys and gals.

  25. William Preston on said:


    My hearse has
    on its ruuf;
    to placidate the zombies
    and hide Abe’s crombies.

  26. Flirting on the Shores of Lake Onian

    In the land of Saffronious Waztonian
    lived a three-legged elder Froponian.
    He was spry for his age
    and would often engage
    a young maiden Waztonian
    for a dance by Lake Onian.

    But the maidens did giggle
    they would much rather wiggle
    with the young, strapping Froponians
    whose three hands roved quickonians
    all over their curves and with a rush
    that made all the maidens blush.

    But all in good fun
    there was always one
    young Saffronious Waztonian
    to dance with the elder Froponian.
    Under the curving arc of the rising Moarch
    danced young and old to the tunes of Boarch.

  27. autumn whistles loo
    the lollylags fall with grace –
    harvesting yel goins

  28. Hmmm, not sure where this one came from but here it is…

    The Contest

    Whistling loos
    compete for poos!
    Whoever has the greatest shudderrocks
    wins the amazing duckerdocks!
    It’s not too late
    to regulate!
    Enter now while you have the time,
    entering doesn’t cost you dime.
    Come prepared to strominate
    you will be sure to dominate!

  29. I hae a Bauks

    I hae a bauks
    and in that bauks
    is a lauks
    and that lauks
    lays on rauks
    and those rauks
    are heated thrauks
    and thrauks
    and rub off on blauks
    and those blauks
    line the waulks
    and the waulks
    surround my lauks
    and my lauks
    likes to eat red chauks
    for his dinner.
    I hae a bauks.

  30. Pingback: I Think…Sometimes | Metaphors and Smiles

  31. I Think…Sometimes
    They say one hasn’t lived fully till
    you’ve viewed the world through dog’s eyes,
    till you’ve breathed deeply on your knees of green;
    when you’ve grasnarrfed and rollranslidsidled
    face first into the lawns tallest plot of grass
    yes, you’ve lived then. And when you’ve
    entertained oneself with the creedlebeetles
    following them with your snoseanseears
    then you’ve rallied up and become a one of a kind deople-
    taken part in the wave of new thinking
    “somethinklike pogs for peace.”
    It’s a fulfilling way to be-finding joy in the chase
    shredding leaves with teeth when you catch them;
    for sure, a case of classic shrilseekhappyskipandance.
    This, this little/huge simplicity, will be the ultimate goal, I think.
    Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013

    Wow…the image that RJ picked…I was out in the yard when I thought of my topic…couldn’t have fit the picture better though!?

    Smiles and regrets that I haven’t time to read right now…must cook…I’ll be back hopefully tomorrow and Saturday. :)’s to all in the garden.

  32. Hannah is probably spending all her time cooking for that new dog of hers, lol…

  33. Not an official entry. Just playing around over here…. This is an Arabic song that I could never decipher the lyrics to clearly so I would make my own and sing to the family. They would be all in tears laughing 🙂

    Gul-lee ya hilwa irweenee
    Atshan maya isgheenee

    Galat-lee rooh ya maskeenee
    Superman humus bitaheenee

    Gu-lee ya hilwa wakleenee
    Ju’an lahma inteenee

    Galat-lee rooh ya maskeenee
    Superman humus bitaheenee

    Oh beauty pour me a drink
    Thirsty for water sate me

    She told me go away poor boy
    Superman humus and tahini

    Oh beauty serve me some food
    Hungry for meat feed me

    She told me go away poor boy
    Superman humus and tahini

  34. Seizeling the Day

    I’m frizzumpled today.
    I want only to play.
    Perhaps I could pay
    a quintumplet or two
    for permission to stay
    in the garden with you.

    I have shivered me timbers
    and timbered me toes, but
    I can’t granite these wishes
    with my twizzle-twinked nose.

    I need guppers, or grumbies,
    those cute furzly fellas.
    Have you hugged any humblies?
    Or some lime-lemon yellas?

    Let’s finagle some yeplers
    and hogtie this breeze,
    breathe yes to a daisy
    and whisperwill trees.

    Just gather your song, Love,
    and come follow me.
    This kissumptuous day waits –
    joyjiggered and free.


  35. Pingback: Seizeling the Day | Whimsygizmo's Blog

  36. Alla-ya’ll are tooo trumpaciously talented. I guffgiggleglugged into my coffee all morning. 🙂 Thank you!

  37. Marjory MT on said:


    Ze zay
    Do’d zip it
    Do not U zo zlow
    When ze zay is zis wonderful.

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