Category Archives: Humor

Stuffed

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Stuffed

I lose my glasses, cuss and mutter,
but my worst quality is clutter!
I have a drawer just filled with socks
I never wear.  And pans and woks,
old dishes, fondue pots  and skewers,
a fourteen-year-old bottle of Dewars
not one friend drinks, much less myself,
sitting there upon my shelf.
Everything I buy just clings.
I  can’t seem to part with things!
In boxes on my garage shelves
are all my former castoff selves.

The slides from art shows long ago?
I dreaded sorting them and so
they remain in plastic crates,
labeled with their types and dates.
Old letters, class notes, tax returns?
I’ve heard that paper easily burns
as well as shreds, yet still I wait.
Years pass as I equivocate.
They might be needed someday so,
get rid of them? I must say no!
With finite space in drawer and bin,
I buy new things and stuff them in.

I should destroy, but can’t commit,
those mismatched pan lids that don’t fit,
My studio is filled with things.
My jewelry drawers with bracelets, rings.
My closets stuffed with different sizes,
shelves stacked with future gifts and prizes.
Snow boots although it never snows
anywhere this woman goes.
A safari hat with veil
hangs upon a closet nail
along with wet suit, snorkel, fins,
and other useless hoarding sins.

My kitchen is a spice museum.
So many spices, I can’t see um.
Fenugreek and capsicum
that I was given by my mum
so long ago they have no taste,
green olives and tomato paste
well past the date they should be used.
Yes, my house should be perused
and sorted out, I must admit,
instead, I sit and write of it!
I know some folks clear out their closets,
but me? I only make deposits!

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Prompt words today were security, finite, someday and commit. I admit, I took a poem from four years ago and added lines to include some of the new prompt words.  Still can’t throw anything away but at least I’m repurposing!

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/22/rdp-friday-security/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/22/fowc-with-fandango-finite/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/22/your-daily-word-prompt-Someday-february-22-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/22/commit/

Toilet Paper Blues (and Greens and Yellows)

6 Replies

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Toilet Paper Blues (and Greens and Yellows)

Once paper for the toilet came in every hue—
green or blue or yellow to wipe away our poo.
And though we all liked paper that was soft and squeezable,
most people felt that color wasn’t very feasible.

Hue was always optional, for you could still find white,
which had the best capacity for capturing the light.
Of all the other choices, white was still the best
to help you find the toilet on your midnight quest.

Now in the tissue aisle, no color meets our sight.
Green and blue and yellow seem to have taken flight.
We use our toilet paper for what it’s created for
without the added problem of matching our decor.

My poem isn’t delicate, it mentions words like poo.
I hope this does not put off such proper folks as you.
You will perhaps forgive me for my word choice this one time,
for feces’s not poetic and caca doesn’t rhyme!

Prompt words for the day are color, optional, squeezable and quest.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/17/rdp-sunday-color/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/17/fowc-with-fandango-optional/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/17/your-daily-word-prompt-squeezable-february-17-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/17/quest/

One Rhyme Friday: Rude Awakening

6 Replies

 

Rude Awakening

I must say that I don’t believe and in fact, I eschew
your variety of reasons for doing what you do:
cutting right in near the front of a lengthy queue,
breaking into conversations never meant for you
or gobbling down two cookies when there are just a few.
All of these rude actions are things that make me rue
the day that you arrived in town and first came into view.
You shuffled ‘cross the dance floor, doing the old soft shoe,
asked if you could have a dance and then commenced to woo.
Oh, if only that was something that I could undo!
I’m tired of your rudeness that you seem to do on cue
whenever there is someone interesting or new
that I’d like to get to know. You just don’t have a clue.
But stuff this in your big mouth, please, and then begin to chew.
You be the ass. You be the monkey. Be the kangaroo.
I no longer want to be the trainer in your little zoo!

 

Want to try doing a poem that makes use of only one rhyme?  Write one and send me a link to it in my comments.

 

https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/15/fowc-with-fandango-variety/

Venetian Dreams

19 Replies

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Venetian Dreams

The year we did the Grand Canal,
I came home feeling humble.
My own life just seemed so banal.
My dreams began to crumble.

My life was filled with piety
of very little note.
None of the notoriety
could my First Baptist quote

compared to all the beauty
I’d seen in St. Mark Square.
I felt it was my duty
to be living over there.

I needed no incitement.
My life here seemed so rote.
I needed the excitement
of traveling by boat.

Though it seemed an overindulgence,
I sought to be alone.
I needed the effulgence
of sun shining on old stone.

I could sell my small red Honda,
put my jewelry in hock.
(I had visions of a gondola
waiting at the dock.)

I imagined a “For Sale” sign
in front of my small home.
It seemed a “Get out of Jail” sign.
This housewife sought to roam.

If it sold within two fortnights
I could take off, traveling solo.
I could trade in Sunday sportnights
for a flight to Marco Polo!

I would feel I was at home again.
I’d missed the sights of Venice.
I wanted to be where I’d been,
free from all the menace

of getting three kids off to school
and ironing hubby’s shirts.
I sought to trade the Golden Rule
for romantic nights and flirts.

I’d give up school bake sales
for pannetone and gelato
eaten with Italian males.
“Me First” would be my motto.

I tried to conjure the Rialto,
but I saw the Bridge of Sighs
as my sound track’s rich contralto
assumed a different guise.

“Mommy, Mommy! was the chorus
of my shattered dream.
My stone fantasies were porous,
issuing a frantic stream

of nightmare shrieks and pleadings.
I started down the hall.
My daughter’s midnight needings
my most urgent call.

The canals were left in shambles
as verity flooded in.
So much for fantasy gambles.
My real life won again!

The prompt word today are canal, overindulgence and humble.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/15/rdp-friday-canal/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/15/your-daily-word-prompt-overindulgence-february-15-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/15/humble/

Love Spell

12 Replies

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Definition of spell: 

—a state of enchantment
—a strong compelling influence or attraction
—an indeterminate period of time waited
—a continuous period of time (did a spell in prison)
—a period of bodily or mental distress or disorder
(spell of coughing, fainting spells)

Love Spell

As with so many, their flirtation
started over a libation.
Tequila conquered hesitation
and augmented jubilation
Minutes later, infatuation
 roused their hearts to palpitation.

Palpitation turned into lust,
a string of cans pulled through the dust,
a sign: Niagara Falls or bust!!!
Their honeymoon’s great joy and thrust
made every day a celebration
with not one hint of love’s cessation.

A single simple act of treason
ended up being the reason
why true love’s flare and excitation
turned into a conflagration
that started as an agitation
and ended up as litigation.

The judge soon granted the decree
that set the bonded lovers free
with a newfound realization
that a certain titillation
brought about by alcohol
could be the rise before the fall.

The prompts today are flare, reason, infatuation and trust.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/11/rdp-monday-flare/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/11/fowc-with-fandango-reason/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/11/your-daily-word-prompt-infatuation-february-11-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/11/trust/

Retribution

12 Replies

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Retribution

He built himself a sanctuary in the old garage
to shelter from his mom’s complaints, his stepfather’s barrage
of insults that he spewed out whenever he drank beer
and his teenage stepson happened to be near.
He frequented the shadows of their viral house.
Took shelter in the attic, quiet as any mouse.
Hid out in the garden in a cave of loam.
Anyplace his stepfather was not became his home.

His meals lacked spice and savor also missing in his mother.
Her meals furnished nutrition, but very little other.
No laughter flavored mealtimes. The food rendered no spice.
He secreted small bits of food—a slice of bread, some rice—
to feed to his companions—a family of mice.
It was worth the beatings that he’d suffered twice
when that man not his father saw him hide away
some morsel in his pocket and said he’d have to pay.

 Raising his fist, he said he would take it from his hide
and gave another beating  to the boy who never cried.
The boy who simply stored it up—kept all of it inside—
bore the abuse stoically and then crept outside
to commune with his real family who lived in wall and  rafter
of the garage he’d made his home, and filled with love and laughter.
They came out at his bidding, swarmed around his feet
to eat a bit of porridge, some carrot or a beet.

Some crackers from his school lunch, some lettuce or a plum,
proved the presence of a heart that otherwise was numb.
Mice frequented his pockets and sat upon his shoulder—
every generation seeming to grow bolder.
They slipped into his mother’s house when she was sound asleep
and crept into those places where he could never creep.
They nestled in her shoes and chewed out all the toes,
severed all her bra straps, gnawed holes in all her hose.

They found the belt the monster man used to beat their friend,
dragged it deep under the bed and chewed it end-to-end.
When they crept into the larder to finish off the pie,
it must have been an accident that the can of lye
spilled into the sugar, pouring out in one fine stream
right into the bowl that would be placed beside the cream
on the breakfast table.  For how could it be
that vermin knew only the man took sugar in his tea?

 

The prompt words today are sanctuary, garage and nutrition.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/09/rdp-saturday-sanctuary/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/09/fowc-with-fandango-garage/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/09/your-daily-word-prompt-nutrition-february-9-2019/

Southern Expressions That Will Crack You Up!

16 Replies

Okay, this goes so well with my earlier post of Southern Discomfort that I have to reblog it. Thanks, Joyfultobeeblogs for bringing it to my attention.

Wordsmith

8 Replies

Wordsmith

He manufactures, word by word,
sentences that are absurd.
Each construct is a little joke—
an irony or  equivoque.

If you wish, I’ll let you know
when he’s ready to stage a show.
I guarantee, his recitation
is sure to win your approbation.

Making each word serve as two
is something that he’s driven to do.
Each double-entendre an education
in the art of revelation:

one meaning clear to any child,
the other more obscure and wild.
Thus does a punster get his fix
by stirring up a wicked mix:

a word cocktail whose piquancy,
cleverness and frequency
in any form or any guise
promises a rare surprise.

So come with me and in two winks
my friend will tell you what he thinks—
his discourse rare and smart and funny,
acerbic and right on the money!!!


Today’s prompt words are manufacture, construct, revelation and equivoque (an expression capable of having more than one meaning; a pun.) Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/07/rdp-thursday-manufacture/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/07/fowc-with-fandango-construct/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/07/your-daily-word-prompt-equivoque-february-7-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/07/revelation/

Phonetics!!!

8 Replies

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Phonetics!!!

My neighbor wears her clothes too tight
which wins her dates most every night.
They do not mind her overbite
or that she’s not too erudite.

Her life just seems to hum along—
nothing too right, nothing too wrong.
And though her life is over-bitten,
No part of it is overwritten

except for the incessant drone
of her ubiquitous telephone.
As annoying as a megaphone,
it never ceases its loud drone.

The admiration of her crowd
of callers should not be allowed.
We wish they’d call less on the phone,
thus lessening its constant moan.

If just one suitor would ease our plight
and remain there overnight,
perhaps she’d take it off the hook.
We crave our peace by hook or crook!

A night without its incessant trilling
would, I must admit, be thrilling.
We do not have as many fears
for her morals as for our ears!

The prompt words today were hum, megaphone, overwrite and admire.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/05/rdp-tuesday-hum/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/05/fowc-with-fandango-megaphone/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/05/your-daily-word-prompt-overwrite-february-5-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/04/admire/

Cowboys

12 Replies

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Cowboys

When considering cowboys, there’s much to admire.
They’re tough and they’re skilled and available for hire.

Their style’s not eclectic. They all look the same.
They’re wild and they’re wooly. Not easy to tame.

They’re never clandestine. They’re out in the open.
Just  shootin’ and spittin’ and ridin’ and ropin’.

Made out of leather and chew and barbed wire,
nobody knows when cowboys expire.

For though they aren’t known for their tact or their heart,
there’s much to admire in how they depart.

No need for a service or funeral pyre,
no casket, no preacher, no flowers, no choir.

They merely climb up and sit straight in the saddle,
ride toward the horizon and simply skedaddle.

 

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https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/02/04/rdp-monday-skedaddle/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/02/04/fowc-with-fandango-eclectic/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/02/04/your-daily-word-prompt-clandestine-february-4-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/02/04/admire/