Category Archives: humorous poem

Luxuriating in Being Left

Luxuriating in Being Left

In retrospect the loss of you has turned into a gain.
I’m rejoicing in the comfort of not having to explain.
I can do just what I want to, every day and every hour.
I am a snool to no one. I do not cringe or cower.
I sleep in in the morning with no breakfast to prepare.
I can dress the way I want to, choose the length of my own hair.
When I go to bed at night, I spread out in the middle.
I’m cool as any cucumber, not bacon on a griddle.
I wish your new love well with you, but I’m fine as I am,
for it’s the truth that when you left, I didn’t give a damn!


Prompt words today are nacre, comfort, rejoice and explain. Snool is an additional word I may or may not use.  The definition of snool is: a cringing person, to cringe or cower, or the opposite: to reduce to submission, cow or bully. There is one extra word today because I also used yesterday’s word from on prompt site because it was published too late to be used yesterday.



My mother had a tranquil life the years before my birth,
when I increased her headaches in addition to her girth.

I was a question-asker—a most  impertinent child,
and my ever-present inquiries drove my mother wild.

The preponderance of these queries got greater year-by-year.
Why was my reflection backwards when looking in the mirror?

Where did babies come from and where were they before?
When she and daddy went to bed, why did they lock their door?

It wasn’t until later that we seemed to trade places
and then it was my mother who put me through my paces.

Why was I coming home so late? Why was my lipstick smudged?
By the time that I was seventeen, I was the party judged.

Thus did life do a turn-about concerning endless questions,
with the one who was interrogator now doling out confessions.


Prompt word today are preponderanceimpertinenttranquil and birth.

Christmas Cancelled!!!


Christmas Cancelled!!!

Lower the pinãta. Bring the party to a halt.
Cease your roar of protest, for I’m not the one at fault
for curbing your frivolity and quashing all our fun.
If you need a scapegoat, Father Christmas is the one
who turned Rudolph out to pasture and retired his sleigh to blocks.
while Gaea, Christ and Santa Claus have some major talks.
The Christ child won’t be crowned this year. The elves are on vacation.
Santa will stay a figment of your imagination.
The only Santas left are those “Ho ho” ing for their wages.
St. Nicholas gave up the ghost when we put kids in cages.

He sold off Donner and Blitzen when we turned our backs
on nature’s other creatures: the elephants and yaks.
All the endangered creatures in the forest and the seas,
those crippled by pollution, global warming and disease.
He closed up his workshop as we squandered nature’s gifts,
deserted the North Pole as the glaciers formed their rifts.
Now bad boys won’t get presents and, alas, the good ones either.
We’re being banished to our rooms while nature takes a breather.
Will Christmas come another year? I guess we’ll wait and see.
Next year will we be perched on or turned over Santa’s knee?

Prompt words for today are crown, roar, fault and figment.

Tsk, Tsk!!!!

Tsk, Tsk!!!

Though I applaud your intellect, your word-usage and clarity,
I’m taking steps to deal with your outlandish temerity.
Since I sincerely hold that obscure words should be panned,
hereby, I proclaim that such smug words will be banned.
So words like “impignorate”—found in no sane vocabulary
hereafter will be turned in to the lexicon constabulary!

Word prompts today are steps, temerity, impignorate and  proclaim

Thanksgiving with the Neighbors

Thanksgiving with the Neighbors

Rendered farctate by turkey and gravy and dressing,
I overindulged, I am hereby confessing.
When they pressed more upon me, I didn’t demur.
I ate all the turkey that I could endure,
but then when they asked if I’d have a bit more,
although  I was already stuffed to the core,
I said, “Maybe a little,” and with no compassion,
they piled on potatoes in an equal fashion.

More gravy, cranberries and more candied yam,
and lest they discriminate, a bit more ham.
So in that yearly paradox, they proceeded to stuff
first the turkey, then me, until I’d had enough.
And though I declared  I was ready to burst,
when they brought out the pie, although I had rehearsed,
“None for me,” in my head, when they asked, “mince or peach?”
I’m embarrassed to say that I had one of each!

Then I lay on the floor and simply digested
as some guests told stories that other guests bested.
But since I had already been over-fested,
I admit my attention was under-invested.
I tried to moan silently, but fear I failed.
In the end, I complained and I groaned and I wailed.
Yet my friends showed no mercy, but proceeded to laugh
and inquire if I’d rather have caf or decaf!

Then they rolled me next door to my own waiting bed,
where I passed half the night feeling overly-fed.
But by the the next morning, I was ready for toast
some bacon and eggs and a lovely French roast.
And I was bemoaning when time came for lunch
that there were no leftovers on which to munch—
No turkey and stuffing. No leftover pie,
so I had to make do with carry-out Thai.



Prompt words today are compassion, paradox, demur and farctate.

Restoring Qi

Restoring Qi

Standing on the corner waiting for my qi
to recognize my face and get in touch with me.
I could use its help in restoring my zing,
for I haven’t had exuberance for much of anything.

All the troubles of the world seem to cling to me,
provoking pain and worry. I just can’t let them be.
My need for an infusion of qi has grown so dire
that I fear without it I’ll probably expire.

I hear the bells a-ringing. Could they be a clue
that my chi’s catching up to me to infuse me anew?
But since it’s the good humor truck coming into view,
I guess a double-decker cone will simply have to do.

Photo from Unsplash used with permission. Word prompts today are qi, exuberant, cling, provoke.
Chi, (Qi or Ki) is the energy of life itself, a balance of Yin and Yang, positive and negative, electromagnetic energy which flows through everything in creation. So Chi can possibly be described as an electromagnetic phenomenon, as a form of light energy, as a form of bio-electromagnetic energy or electricity.



An arresting behavior and aquiline nose
insure female attention wherever he goes,
and yet since he walks at a most rapid pace
and there’s always a new book in front of his face,
one must consider, just what are the chances
that he would see even one lady’s advances?

The literature that he daily reads

satisfies all his vicarious needs.
So though he must know what it is that he’s missing—
the adventure and romance and hugging and kissing—
and though more than one gal has chosen to tout it,
I fear he’s unlikely to do much about it.

They flutter their lashes and pooch out their lips,
flex their lithe bodies and rotate their hips,
but nary a glance does our scholar cast on them.
None of his attention is wasted upon them.
For though he is definitely romance-prone,
it seems he prefers to enjoy it alone.



Prompt words today are aquiline, arrest, literature and afford.

Grandma’s Escape Note

Click on photos to enlarge.

Grandma’s Escape Note

I’m juggling my remembrances of all you said and did
way back in the past when you were just a kid,
when I was so uptight and the scalawag was you,
causing all my looks of disapproval and of moue.
But now that I am seventy and you’re a kid of fifty,
the fact that things are changed around is somehow sorta nifty.

I’m the one who’s acting up while you are disapproving.
You registered your angst when you heard that I was moving
off to wild Mexico, away from kith and kin,
leaving far behind me all the things that I have been.
The stuff stored in the attic? I’ll leave it all to you.
I don’t have time to deal with it. I’ve still so much to do.

The house is up for sale, so you’ll want to get right to it.
I’ve planted a surprise up there. You’ll know it when you view it.
I’ve cashed out the investments that your dear dad and I
saved up for the future—he was such a frugal guy.
But now that he is gone, I want to be off, too,
so I split up all the money, some for me and some for you.

My part is for my future—a small sweet  hacienda
and provisions and comestibles I’ll buy at the tienda.
Your dinero’s in the attic, some tucked here and some tucked there
to insure that you look closely and make sure that you take care
in examining the past and all those years I cared for you
so you do not dispute what I’m about to do.

If I have twenty years left, I’ll be lucky, so it’s fair
that I have another chance at letting down my hair.
I want to go out dancing and drink shooters and get wild.
I’m tired of a life that is grandmotherly and  mild!
And so I don’t embarrass you, I’m moving farther south,
away from prying eyes and away from word of mouth.

I’m doing you the favor that you didn’t grant to me
all those years you got in trouble and I was there to see.
Now I’ll be the adolescent and you can click your tongue,
for I’ve waited all these years for me to be the one who’s young.
Kiss my grandkids and your grandkids and tell them it’s from me,
but that I can’t stick around because I’m off in search of me!!

Prompt words for today are moue, scalawag, juggle and remembrance.

Fore!!! (Ousted)

Fore!!! (Ousted)

He wasn’t fit, he wasn’t deft.
Of brainpower, he was bereft.
So it should have been a landslide loss
that demoted him from being boss,
but it seems that daftness is in vogue.
Too many voted for the rogue.
Yet when I heard, to my delight,
we’d been  delivered from four years’ blight,
I whooped my whoops and cried my cries.
No constant orange would greet my eyes
whenever I turned on the tube.
We’ve exorcized the bungling boob!

Prompt words today are delight, landslide and  deft. 

Failure to Launch

Click on Photos to Enlarge.

Failure to Launch

When it comes to doing tasks promotional or clerical,
I find that I’m becoming increasingly hysterical.
It’s tough for me to concentrate. I would rather plot
the next word of a poem. A promoter I am not.

I find that my mind wanders when it comes to drafting
queries and proposals. I prefer to spend time crafting
poems, books or stories; but I find it tough
after creative efforts, doing that extra stuff
to place them or to sell them. Though I do not mind the working, 
when it comes to the rest of it, I simply end up shirking.

Words pile up around me. My file drawers burst apart,
for when it comes to their dispersal, I find I’m weak of heart.
It’s not that I am hoarding words. I’d gladly send them out
into the world to find their place. That’s not what it’s about.

The fact that such acts bore me is a fact that’s inescapable.
I’d like to hand them over to a person who’s more capable.
I delight in going inwards and seeing what is there, 
then putting it on paper for everyone to share.

It would be an equal triumph, I have not a single doubt,

if I could find a person I could pay to send it out;
but, alas, I’ve found a new way in which I am resistant,
as I keep putting off locating an assistant!

Word prompts today are tough, hysterical, capable and triumph.