Category Archives: humorous poem

The King of Beasts Fetes the Animal Kingdom

The King of Beasts Fetes the Animal Kingdom

When he threw a sumptuous banquet to honor all his minions,
they showed up by the thousands via hoof and fin and pinions.
He planned a sumptuous feast , hoping that it would invigorate,
but instead the meal he’d seved only served to agitate.
The pelicans were shocked by the roast turkey and fried chicken, 
for they found such a diet to be less than finger-licken’.

The shrimp cocktail shocked the flounder and made the tuna ill.
Before they even had a bite, they found they’d had their fill.
The black Angus were all traumatized when they were served the veal.
Sheep couldn’t eat the mutton and Baaah-humbugged the whole meal.
Thus, one-by-one they found the king of beasts to be barbarian.
How short-sighted he’d been not to just go with vegetarian!

Prompt words are sumptuous, invigorate, minion . Photo by Jeena Jeong on Unsplash. Used with permission.

A Night in Shining Armor

A Night in Shining Armor

The royal chambers  were impressive, their ceilings high and vaulted,
and the king that lived within them was respected and exalted,
but he’d grown a bit too portly around his hips and bust.
To put it more politely? He was overly robust.

Only once a year was there a problem with his girth.
On the anniversary of his country’s birth
when he had to put on armor, it had become a must,
if he was to fit inside it, to be securely trussed.

Thus girded and then girdled, he was stuffed within
armor made for him before, back when he was thin!
Luckily, there was sufficient room around his face,
so, although the rest of it lacked sufficient space,

he was able to make speeches about affairs of state,
to eulogize and glorify and pontificate!
Then, after the ceremonies, feeling young and sprightly,
he visited his concubines, clad regally and tightly.

But when he tried to exit his protective crust,
he found that he’d been glued within by a seal of rust!
They tried to use a crowbar, a hammer and a chisel,
but, alas, it was a rainy day and all that drizzle

had sealed him tight within the metal of his kingly raiment,
making it a prison, not just a brief containment.
At length, they called a blacksmith who with cutting, prying, hammering,
in spite of the king’s protests, his commanding and his yammering,

removed the monarch from his shell, released him to his ardor,
none-the-worse for all those nightly visits to his larder.
The ladies took him to their beds and comforted and soothed him,
giving him that royal special care that much  behooved him.

And when next year the king was placed upon his royal charger,
the armor that he wore was seen to be some sizes larger.
The invoice that the blacksmith sent for the king’s re-guising,
tactfully just charged him for adjustment and resizing,

but in fact, the artisan had made a big improvement
bound to make it easier for future royal movement
if he kept up his nightly search for items that were edible.
Cleverly, he made it out of chainmail that was spreadable!

Prompt words today are robust, invoice, sprightly and exalted. I took this photo in 1969 on an eight week driving tour of Great Britain. It was taken in the castle of Sir Walter Scott.  Just this year, I bought a slide converter and converted the slides of that trip to jpegs. I hadn’t seen these photos in almost fifty years! Came in handy today.

The Sun Hat

The Sun Hat

Her hat’s broad brim shadows her face,
discouraging his fond embrace.

He removes the hat and then
plants a kiss where it has  been.

Both actions—kiss and hat removal
have the lady’s full approval.

So, with no further ado,
he makes it two!

For dVerse Poets: Embrace.



Flirtation is cathartic—a furbelow of life.
Though it is mainly fictitious, still it eases pain and strife.
It sets our spirits soaring and makes us feel much younger,
but takes the edge off appetites without dispelling hunger.

A nibble here, a small bite there might set our lips to smacking,
but a deeper part of us detects what might be lacking.
Caviar on toast is fine for an initial tasting,
but what we need is turkey,
crisp and golden from its basting,

but succulent inside, or a meal that fills us up
like an egg salad sandwich or pea soup in a cup.
Flirting’s great for starters, but it isn’t real.
What really solves an appetite is eating the whole meal.

Prompt words for today are soaring, cathartic, fictitious and furbelow.

Exculpatory Failure: The Cookie Caper

Exculpatory Failure: The Cookie Caper

My sister can’t explain the fate
of cookies missing from the plate.
A generous portion merely vanished
to unknown realms furtively banished.

Here, for instance is an example
of why she couldn’t take a sample:
she couldn’t reach the cookies there
so high above her tangled hair—
an argument I must impeach,
for they are not beyond her reach.

And so I cannot exculpate
her innocence in this debate.
The cookies have indeed gone missing.
The coffee pot is gently hissing
and I can’t accept her bluff
of why there are not cookies enough
for all my mother’s friends to chew
even one, let alone two!

My mother baked hour after hour
so they’d have plenty to devour,
yet now there are a paltry few.
I guess they’ll have to just make do

with a cookie each or less.
Good for their dieting, I guess.

Who can the guilty culprit be?
My sister hopes they’ll think it’s me
who stole said cookies from the plate
and not that tiny reprobate
with chocolate crumbles on her lips
and frosting on her fingertips.

My little sis, so innocent,
admits not where those cookies went.
Yet that bonanza clearly resides
somewhere within her own insides.

Today’s prompt words are bonanza, example, generous and exculpate.

The Vile Effects of Cabbage

The Vile Effects of Cabbage

I love eating cabbage, but its end results are crass.
It may affect digestion with propensity towards gas.
Between you and your closest friends it may create a scism
as you rival wild leaves in the wind with your psithurism.

Prompt words today are cabbage, propensity, psithurism (the sound of the wind in the trees and the rustling of leaves) and affect. Illustration thanks to Ibuki Tsubo on Unsplash. Used with permission.

Pills or Porn

Pills or Porn

My Spam mail’s always full of it, midnight, day or morn.
Who told them I’m in need of a daily dose of porn?
If I took the Viagra that they offer to me daily,
I wouldn’t be in need of porn to end my evenings gaily.

I’d simply cruise the malecón in search of company
flirting with each senior dude that I happen to see.
I’d freeze him with a subtle wink and flash one of my smiles,
then win him over quickly with coquettish wiles.

If he has any qualms at all, due to his advanced age,
I’d flash further encouragement that’s come to be the rage.
With great sophistication and a sense of calm,
I’d show him the Viagra I have stashed in my palm.

But this poem is misleading if you think I’m reliant
on you as a supplier. I’m not a likely client.
For vendors of Viagra, I have a tale of woe:
I can get it cheaper right here in Mexico!

Thanks to Lisa Coleman of  Our Eyes Open  for the suggestion that I turn a comment regarding Spam mail into a blog.  I was commenting about receiving 96 Spam messages in one day and most of them being about pills or porn. Oh man, is this blog every going to bring in a lot of Spam concerning Amoxicillin, Viagra and pornography!!! See how I sacrifice for you?

Non-inherited Tendencies

Non-inherited Tendencies

I am forty-three years old. Why is it that my mother still feels it is her purpose in life to educate me?

She stands in front of the junk drawer in my kitchen, “There is no excuse for anyone to have a drawer like this in their house,” she says. With one finger, she rifles through the drawer, moving a pair of pliers closer to fifty peso bills for the water vendor  that are piled to its left, sending loose screws rolling across the bottom of the drawer.

I reach around her to hand her the pair of scissors she seeks. Then, once again, I careen into the precipice of self-doubt. Surely, others less-perfect than my mother have drawers such as this one.

My qualms deteriorate as I readjust my thoughts to coincide with the actual world, but as I restate mentally and silently my oft-repeated mantra. “What the eyes don’t see doesn’t matter,” my mother, briskly and methodically, starts arranging the drawer. 


Word prompts for today are What the eyes don’t see doesn’t matter, deteriorate, educate and precipice.

Bill Blass Blues

Bill Blass Blues

My wife is unfaithful.  She’s out most every night
with another famous man—out in open sight.
She doesn’t want to hide it. She wants her friends to see
that she’s at every swish affair, clad fashionably.
Every Hermes bag and pair of winklepicker shoes
has contributed its bit to my costume blues.

Countless Dior dresses and each Givenchy blouse

added up to why we had to sell the house.
I’d taken out my equity and sold off all my stocks,
I locked her in her room, but she only picked the locks.
When I cancelled all her cards, she just applied for others,
and when I closed out all of those, she asked to use her mother’s.

I am a closet pauper. As you might suppose,
challenged by my wife’s outlandish lust for clothes.
If only her love affairs were with lesser men
than Michael Kors or Givenchy, Dior or Ralph Lauren.
If only she could lighten up and buy her clothes at Ross’s
perhaps I could pay off my loans and modify my losses!




Prompt words today were lighten, challenge, winklepicker and equity.



Snug in his nest in Mar-a-Lago he wonders
how to invest the additional plunders
he’s gained in his years of selling his favor.
He ponders his ice cream and wonders what flavor
they delivered today with his fries and Big Mac.
He gives it a lick and then gives a loud quack.
He’s big duck in this puddle, so does not know why
past cronies of his keep passing him by
avoiding eye contact. Do they not recall
how he was the single best POTUS of all?

Where are all of his partners in crime and dissent?
Can anyone tell him where they all went?
Where’s Ivanka?  Where’s Jared? On to their next steal?
Don’t they know he invented the art of the deal?
Once they jumped to his dictates as head of state.
Did other past presidents share the same fate?
Did Jefferson suffer a similar plight?
Did Washington sit alone every night
while Martha took off with her nightclubbing friends?
Did other great men meet with similar ends?

His last month in office he took a great scalding.
He’s lonely, obese and orange and balding.
He’s plummeted earthwards from such a great height
that all  of his minions should share in his plight,
yet they’ve all gone on to lives of their own,
leaving him here to pine on his throne. 
But what is the reason for his blatant smirking?
Can it possibly be that without even working
he’ll draw a huge pension for the rest of his life,
plus a travel allowance for him and his wife?


Prompt words for the day are dissent, snug, smirk and blatant. Images thanks to Unsplash. Used with permission.