Category Archives: Humor

Directional Confusion

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Photo by Daniel Giannone on Unsplash

Directional Confusion

The part of my brain that is least to my pleasing,
(most limited and therefore fodder for teasing,)
is my sense of direction, which isn’t the best.
I simply don’t know which way’s east, which way’s west.

Thus, between friends it is frequently spoken
that I am geographically broken.
When it comes to driving, I have the dexterity.
It’s just a matter of lacking temerity.

Such things as location and proper direction
just seem to be out of my reign of detection.
Expeditions to L.A. end up in Long Beach—
my talent for getting there just out of reach.

It’s not that I’m dumb, but it seems that the section
of brain that determines location election
just didn’t develop in the usual manner.
I lack other people’s inbuilt radar scanner.

I don’t mind the driving if you’ll man the maps.
From the start to the finish, just fill in the gaps.
I’ll turn when you say to. I’ll exit with ease.
Just do not demand that I navigate, please!

Photo by Joshua Coleman on Unsplash

(Unfortunately, although hyperbole, this one is not fiction.)

Prompts for today are expedition, dexterity, teasing, fodder andsection. Photos from Unsplash used with permission.

 

What the —-? Palinode for dVerse Poets.

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The Invitation

“You are invited to a party at our house, Saturday at 7.
Please bring a dish to share and what you want to drink.”

 

The Reply

Pot Luck?
What the F—?

If I’m to bring a dish to share and also what I drink,
just who’s throwing the party? It sounds like me, I think.
If I’m going to cook a dish and also buy the wine,
I think I’ll just stay home instead, where all of it is mine!
The purpose for a party is for entertaining friends—
Not the other way around. This said, my poem ends!

Peeky-Kitty

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Peeky-Kitty

Peeky-Kitty’s surveying all
from his nest up on the wall.
He hears the car before it enters,
then sees his mistress as she centers,
trying to avoid the case
that serves as Peeky-Kitty’s base.

Balanced there upon the shelf,
he does not deign to stir himself.
He only opens one green eye,
raising his head only nose-high
over the corner of his bed,
for he has already been fed.

Though he’s been waiting, hour on hour
here in his padded leafy bower,
his lady’s home now, finally,
and since he has no need to pee,
he’ll close his eyes and sink back, curled,
content that all’s well in his world.

This is often the sight that greets me through my windshield when I drive into my garage. In this case, Pasiano had balanced the bed of the kitties up on the  top of the storage cupboards to make room for three big garbage bags full of mother-in-law tongue plants my neighbors had weeded out of their garden and contributed to me to put down in the lot and along my front wall. At other times, they owe their lofty perch to the fact that Yolanda has swept and swabbed the tile floor and put their bed up there so it won’t get wet.

Coronavirus and the Corner Bar

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Coronavirus and the Corner Bar

He scrubbed the bar with cleanser and moved apart the chairs
with six feet in between them and just a few in pairs.
He sterilized the counter with that gelatinous goo
that had become ubiquitous, as he was told to do.

He laid off all his servers and bartended well-masked,
ready to do with diligence whatever he was asked.
Yet his barstools sat neglected, for no one came to play
and his profit margin  was shrinking every day.

His savings were depleted by rent and overhead
 as all his favorite regulars stayed at home in bed.
When he looked at the percentages, he knew he had to act.
In one month he’d be ruined—bankrupted, in fact.

He took a bottle of the gin he’d used to such acclaim,
forgot vermouth and olives, taking careful aim,
to spill it down the counter where it ran down to the rug,
then upset a candle and departed with a shrug.

Carefully he locked the door, got in his car and left.
Basically broken-hearted, feeling gutted and bereft.
He saw flames in his rear-view mirror, his problems rectified
as he took the only out, committing barmecide.

 

Prompts for today are cleanser, basic, barmecide, acclaim and percentage. Photo by Jack Prichett on Unsplash, used with permission.

P.S.  If you wondered, as I did, what “barmecide” really means, as an adjective it means illusory or imaginary and therefore disappointing. As a noun, it means a person who offers benefits that are illusory or disappointing. Nope, I just couldn’t inflict that upon you.

 

En Mass Transit

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En Mass Transit

Traffic comes and traffic goes,
but where they all go, no one knows.
They gun their engine, shift a gear
to be anywhere but here.
North goes south and south goes north,
driving, driving back and forth.
Wearing tires out, burning gas,
changing where they are en masse.
In New York, Paris, Pittsburg, Rome,
Nobody seems to just stay home!

 

The Word of the Day Prompt today is traffic.,

Mean Woman Blues at the Corner Bar: NaPoWriMo 2021, Day 28

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The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write a poem that is a series of questions. Mine are all song titles save for one famous line from literature.

Mean Woman Blues at the Corner Bar

Him: What’s up Pussycat? Are you lonesome tonight?
Her: Can you mend a broken heart?
Him: Do-ya do-ya do-ya do-ya wanna dance?
Her: Who are you?
Him: Hello, Hello. Bad, bad Leroy Brown. What’s your name?
Her: Hello. Mary Lou!
Him: Ever dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight?
Her:  Who let the dogs out?
Him: If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?
Her: What’s going on? Hang on, Sloopy!
Him: Wouldn’t it be nice?
Her:  (Looking down,) Is this a dagger which I see before me?
Him: Can’t you see, can’t you see?
Her: Is that all there is?
Him: Do you really want to hurt me?
Her: Would you still love me tomorrow?
Him: What’s love got to do with it?
Her: How did it get so late so soon?
Him: Does anybody really know what time it is?
Her: Should I stay or should I go?
Him: Do ya think I’m sexy?
Her: (taking out her car keys) Do you know the way to San Jose?
Him: Are you going to go my way?
Him: (To her back as she walks out the door) What’s goin’ on? Am I that easy to forget?
Him: (To the room at large) Can’t you see, can’t you see what that woman, she been doin’ to me?
A stander-by:  What I can see clearly now is what becomes of the broken-hearted!

In case you want to play along or read more poems written to this prompt, here is the NaPoWriMo prompt . Photo by Milo Bauman on Unsplash, used with permission. If you doubt any of the song titles or want to know who sang them, just Google them. I ran out of time or I would have made links.

Moratorium

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Moratorium

I’m waging a campaign against your excesses.
You don’t need more shoes or jewels or dresses.
I’m sending a notice to wherever you shop
that your random purchases just have to stop!

Your profligate spending’s way out of control.
Abstemious behavior should be your new goal.
I abhor that I’m having to start this campaign
and hope that my efforts will not be in vain.

I’m not suggesting that you turn ascetic,
It’s simply that your present life is pathetic.
You buy and you buy and you buy and you buy
’til the Amazon boxes are stacked to the sky.

Then you head to the mall to buy a bit more,
’til your closet is fuller, I swear, than the store!
Now my salary cannot keep up with the strain,
so I must insist, dear, you try to refrain.

To help, I have cancelled your credit cards, then
tackled your charge accounts, closing all ten.
I’ve taken you off my bank account, too.
hoping to try to educate you

to the fact that life’s more than spending and spending.
I hope that my excessive acts will be ending
your own excesses, and that you’ll find
new hobbies to fill your acquisitive mind.

Prompt words today are random, abhor, abstemious, ascetic and campaign.

Eulogy

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Eulogy

Men whistle, catcall, stare and stalk
and even vagrants stop and gawk.
Old ladies cluck their tongues and talk,
but I can’t help the way I walk.

My talent was not learned of late.
It’s rumored that it is innate.
My mom, a flapper in her day,
was zany, silly, clever, gay.

And now I ooze with her pizzazz,
her craziness and all that jazz,
or so Dad says. And long-dead embers
spark in his eyes as he remembers.

She’s only stories heard, a name,
a face within a silver frame
on the nightstand of my dad—
the mother that I never had.

She never held me in her arms
or schooled me in feminine charms,
but I have her spirit and her butt.
In this I am most fortunate.

So I resurrect her daily,
imagining her as I gaily
sway and flirt. It is a token—
a eulogy with no word spoken.

Prompts for today are pizzazz, fortunate,  vagrant, innate and frame. The photo really is of my mother, but the poem is fictional. My mother taught me lots of things, but not how to walk seductively!!! ;o)

Mad Poem: NaPoWriMo 2021, Day 26, Parody

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Mad Poem

We’ve been pinned to our homes
for a year, maybe more,
and after a month
it’s turned into a bore.
We’ve stared at computers
or the walls of our rooms,
our social encounters
just tweets, Skypes or Zooms.
We’ve missed our Starbucks,
the beach and the mall.
Our range of diversions
has been nothing at all.
Restaurant after restaurant
called on the phone
has said they were closed
and to leave them alone.
When we called up our friends,
we had nothing to say
for we did the same things
for day after day.
We yearn for the freedom
that will come with a vacc.
It’s not fair that our elders
can get what we lack!

 

My poem was a parody of the Dr. Seuss poem below:

Sad Poem

 

The NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a parody of another poem. 

Blind Fashion

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Blind Fashion

They were a fashionable couple, noted for their dress,
attired on all occasions with a unique finesse.

She dressed up on work days in a crinoline and sash.
He even wore a coat and tie when taking out the trash.

Her shape was rather pandurate—thinner in the middle
and very broad down by the hips, rather like a fiddle.

His hair  was thin and patchy with many bald spots that
might have gone unnoticed if he had worn a hat.

So, though they dressed for fashion, they didn’t dress for shape.
He should have worn a tam and she should have worn a cape.

 

Photo from Unsplash, used with permission. Prompts today are  pandurate, work and  finesse,