Category Archives: humorous poem

Die Laughing

Die Laughing

Much of his popularity 
stemmed from his jocularity.
Those who described him as laconic
were certainly being ironic,
for he was fond of show and tell—
where he was rumored to excel
and used his talents more than once
to amuse a captive audience.
His violent end was unexpected.
His funny bone became infected
and went for too long undetected
until his remains were dissected.
But all agreed he’d be amused
to know a bone so overused
would be the one that would so lend
itself to bring about his end.


Prompt words today are jocularity, laconic, amused, violent and show. Image by Denis Agati on Unsplash, used with permission.

Spring Brakes

Spring Brakes

Her freshman year at college, my sis brought home a guest
that dad said was a nincompoop–rude and badly dressed.

His pants were tight, his buttons opened half way down his chest,
but my sister made excuses for the crudeness he expressed
by saying he was sensitive and recently depressed.

He strode into the kitchen and jerked open the door
of the refrigerator and began to pour
milk right from the carton, down his chin onto the floor.
What’s more, when he was finished, he asked if there was more!
Well, I could sense Dad’s anger before I heard his roar.

“He can’t help his behavior, he’s parched!” my sister cried,
pleading with our father as he threw the jerk outside.
Where, by his own volition, the kid sauntered to his ride,
put the keys in the ignition and, gathering his pride,
put the pedal to the metal, but then the engine died!

To inject a bit of humor would probably be rude,
but I simply can’t resist expounding on the dude.
My parents called his parents who came a bit unglued
and gave the kid a lecture on respect and rectitude,
imposing a Spring Break spell of solitude.

And that is why my sister spent her term vacation
in a state of martyrdom and excess perturbation.
I chalked it up to part of her farther education
and gloried just a little bit in her situation,
trying to abstain from another smug oration.

And that’s part of the story of when sister was a fool
and chose a dud as boyfriend, but to dwell on it is cruel.
That year she learned more lessons that weren’t taught in school.
When it came to spring vacation, it became her rule
that mixing  dads and boyfriends really wasn’t cool.


Photo by Mark Decile on Unsplash, used with permission. Prompts today are parched, nincompoop, inject, bide and guest.

I’ve Been and I Am

I’ve Been and I Am

In earlier days, I’ve been cursed and rehearsed.
Been nursed for my fevers, relieved of my thirst.
Dialed and aisled, exiled  and trialed.
Filed and riled and even profiled.

I grew tired, retired, and my interest was fired
to try moving off to a place I’d admired.
Fate guided my steps, waved her magical wand

and found me a house by a beautiful pond,

Surrounded by greenery both flower and frond,
 I’ve probably formed my ultimate bond.
What we were we still are, for that is our core,

but if we have courage, we can be still more.

Life isn’t over when we’re retired.
We may be at rest but we needn’t be mired.
The flame of our life has not yet expired.
No circuit’s so old that it can’t be rewired!

Prompt words are tired, wand, thirst, negate and profile.

Bonus View

Bonus View

The sun was at its zenith and although I ventured bare
out to my jacuzzi, I had no intent to share
a peep show with my neighbors, for tall bushes masked the view
from their high terrace to my bedroom, and my hot tub, too.

I’d forgotten that leaf cutter ants had lately been to dine
upon the hedge between us, depleting leaf and vine.
So when birds perch upon it, they’re exposed from tail to plume.
I can see them from the terrace and see them from my room

as they feed upon the flowers against a bright blue sky,
exposed there as they lately are to every human eye.
In addition, I’d been duly warned by  neighbors recently
that since the ants had visited, they can’t help viewing me

as I go about life’s duties on my terrace, in my yard,
and if my drapes are open, they had found that it was hard
to deflect their eyes from bedroom views. I’d been duly alerted
that if our mutual embarrassment was to be averted

that I should be more careful until our hedge filled out
lest I inadvertently forget and walk about
in fewer clothes than usual or pursued private actions
not intended to be shared for neighborly reactions.

So when I left the hot tub seeking to slake my thirst
and headed for the kitchen, I, too, witnessed the worst.
Through bare branches, void of leaf, male neighbors stood askance
viewing me against their will as I took the chance

naked as a jaybird, to scurry to the house
devoid of any raiment—swimsuit, pants or blouse.
Now this might have been exciting when there was less to see
in my earlier years, preceding seventy-three,

but I fear the scene they viewed was more a shock than titillating.
Certainly not the scene that they had been anticipating
as they strolled out with their guests for a visual interlude.
I’m sure they’d no intent to view their neighbor nude!

Prompt words today are plume, zenith, thirst, duly and share.

Humble Up to a Point

Humble Up to a Point

I’m not noted for my moxie. Not famous for my wit.
When I tell a joke, I rarely get away with it.
My asides are not whimsical. They’re lacking in their zest.
The laughter they occasion is optional, at best.
When they hold a contest in delivering a line,
I promise you the loving cup never will be mine.
And though it would be wonderful to be life of the party,
I’ll have to make do with being brilliantly arty!


Prompt words are contest, whimsical, optional, moxie and wonderful. (Amazing that three of the five prompts, all taken from different sites, actually rhyme with each other! ) What are the chances?

Directional Confusion

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.

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’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

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

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.,