Category Archives: humorous poem

Purple Passion

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Purple Passion

My days of purple passion regrettably are over—
all those desktop gropings and rollings in the clover.
His need to perform publicly an act that should have been
romantically private? I was reluctant to back then.
But now that passion seems to be on permanent vacation.
We old gals get excitement by our over-lunch relation
of bygone tales of passion, in fact it is a blast
trading juicy tidbits as we share a light repast.
It seems that we get pleasure in sharing just a few
public recitations of what we were loath to do.

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The prompt word today was purple.

Take Ordinary Caution

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Take Ordinary Caution

As pallbearer for my friend Larry,
I heard these deaths were ordinary
and if a fellow wished to  parry
his own demise, he should be wary
of our town apothecary.

For each he saves, there’s one they bury.
That is why I’m sorta wary,
and why I find his sign so scary
and ironically cautionary
when I read it’s “Cash and Carry.”

The prompt word today was ordinary.

Generational Drift

Generational Drift

It’s a symptom of their stage of life,
a product of their age.
Adolescents have to disagree
and posture, pout and rage.

That teenage chemical is now
rampaging through each vein,
bringing self-doubt, embarrassment,
confusion and disdain.

Nothing so discomforting
as advice of a parent.
Teens crave emancipation,
but go through with it? They daren’t.

They may neglect their family time
in favor of their friends.
The list of what is wrong with you?
Somehow it never ends.

If you could just dress better,
they might find it easier to
admit you were their parents
when they run into you.

But as it is they meet your eye,
their own eyes simply narrowing.
They walk by like a stranger.
To address you would be harrowing.

You rip your jeans and cut your hair
so it looks freshly tumbled,
but you cannot please them.
If you try, you will be humbled.

“Gross,” they’ll say, “You’re not a kid,
so why attempt to be one?”
But if you keep your present look,
they’ll say that you are no fun.

How can one be as old as you
and not know anything?
For their advice, they’ll go online
to consult the I Ching.

Ouiji boards and seances
bring advice from the past.
It seems words really ancient
contain more of a blast.

So parents, do not anguish
if you can’t reach your at-hand kids,
Just wait ’til you have passed away
and talk to your great-grandkids!

The prompt today is symptom.

The Emperor of Chocolate

                                                                             image from internet

The Emperor of Chocolate

I am the emperor of chocolate. I conquer every bar.
I can detect its presence in wrappings or in jar.
When there’s no chocolate to be found, I simply can’t abide it.
I can find it anywhere—wherever you might hide it.
My tendency toward chocolate is a tale I hate to tell;
but I cannot help it, for it’s congenital.
My mother abused substances—namely, Russell Stover.
She could not close the box lid until eating them was over.

She couldn’t resist chocolates, though she was not a glutton
when it came to other foods like hamburgers or mutton.
She received a box of chocolates on every holiday—
on her birthday and for Christmas, and for sure on Mother’s Day.
When it came to appreciation, my mother never failed them,
for when it came to chocolates, she always just inhaled them.
One time my dad decided that he would have some fun.
He bought my mom some chocolates to dole out one-by-one.

He hid them underneath the cushion of a chair
to give her one piece daily, but she knew that they were there.
She ate the whole box in two days. It really was disgraceful.
Every time I saw her, it seemed she had a face full.
Only with my father did she manage to save face,
For she bought chocolate-covered cherries and put one in the place
of every chocolate she stole. My father never knew.
She was not tempted by the cherries—a taste she could eschew.

My father always thought he’d pulled one over on my mother,
although I’ve always known that the true jokester was another.
When the box was only cherries, and he offered them to her,
she’d say, “I’ll save it for later,” or sometimes she’d  demur.
To resist chocolate cherries, she was fully able,
and I was fully loyal to preserving mother’s fable.
That’s how my addiction was learned at Mother’s knee,
because the chocolate-covered cherries? She gave them all to me.

The prompt today is conquer.

Zit Solution

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Zit Solution

It was a tiny pimple in the middle of my chin,
but it seemed most massive to me way back then.
A zit the day before the prom seemed a tragedy
insurmountable to a teenager like me.
I squeezed it and I worried it. With Clearasil I topped it.
Still I couldn’t leave it, and eventually, I popped it,
put toothpaste on and alcohol and dabbed it with foundation;
but still it wouldn’t go away, to my great consternation.

I put a band-aid on it, but that just made it worse.
And when my dad insisted that we had to rehearse
my two-step, since I’d never danced with boys before,
I backed myself right down the hall and headed out the door.
He caught me on the porch and assumed a dancing stance,
telling me he had to be sure that I could dance.
We two-stepped to the railing and two-stepped back again,
executing dancing the way he had back when.

And when he danced me through the door and back down the hall,
He said, “You’re a good dancer! You aren’t bad at all.”
Dad whispered at my door that night, just before I dozed,
“Mom had a pimple on her chin the night that I proposed.
Of all girls on the dance floor, you will be the rage.
When the prom queen’s introduced and standing on the stage,
it will be you that everyone’s looking at for sure.
They won’t be noticing your pimple. It’s your smile that is the cure.”

The prompt word was massive.

Total Immersion

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Total Immersion

When it came to one diversion,
I fear I went total immersion.
I seemed to be in watching mode
as episode after episode,
the story line just seemed to flow,
and I watched two seasons in a row!

But now I find myself confessing
Netflix can be curse or blessing;
for I’ve found at end of day,
they’ve taken “Men in Trees” away.
Now I mourn its loss. The reason?
They cancelled after second season!!!

 

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I’ve been without TV by choice for most of the time since 1987. The reason initially was because my husband’s daughter, who was having problems in school, came to live with us. I wanted to encourage her to read, so we had the TV cable cancelled.  By the time that she moved back with her mother a few years later, I found that I liked my life without the diversion of television.  my mother taped and sent her favorite shows, without commercials, as did my sister, so I had my own personal TiVo even before it was invented. With time on TV limited, I turned to other pleasures—mainly gardening and working in the studio.  

A few years after I moved to Mexico, I did connect to Satellite TV, but when my service provider skipped town with the year’s subscription money in his pocket, I decided not to renew with another provider. Very shortly thereafter, Netflix became available in Mexico; and so I find myself watching very old series that most have already seen: Friends, Heartland, and most recently, Men in Trees!  I allowed myself the luxury of watching the entire two seasons in a week or so.  Characters came to seem like old friends, then vanished forever.  I mourn their loss.

 

The prompt today was immerse.

Nervous Nibbling

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Nervous Nibbling

Why am I so nervous? I can’t seem to remember,
yet I am as edgy as a kid is on December
twenty-fourth. I cannot seem to get to sleep.
My angst grows as I lie here trying to count sheep.
Something niggles me, but I don’t know at all
what might be perturbing me. I just can’t recall.
If I could fall asleep, I might dream a solution,
but dreamtime will not come. I suffer thought-pollution.
With clouds of agitation floating overhead,
I just can’t remain here stewing in my bed.
I haul my sorry body to the refrigerator.
I’ll have some chocolate ice cream and regret it later.
A chicken leg, some pudding, another macaroon.
Those chips up in the cupboard will join them pretty soon.
My bags and bowls surround me as I flick on the tube.
I spend hours staring at that hypnotic cube.
Then my alarm clock sounds and I am jerked awake.
My heart starts to palpitate. My hands commence to shake.
I suddenly remember what bothered me back then.
Today’s the day I set for my diet to begin!

 

The prompt word today was nervous.