Category Archives: humorous poem

Scotch Plaid: Wordle 533

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Scotch Plaid

A bloke’s
a joke
when clad
in plaid.
Girls don’t tarry
with guys so merry.
They suppose
such garish clothes
best suit a zone
for golf alone—
a sporting life
lived void of wife.

A plaid-swathed guy
might well let fly
a golf ball and
wind up in sand,
his drive a flub
made with a club,
his signal “Fore!”
a senseless roar,
or perhaps see,
there on the tee,
his ball still sitting
devoid of hitting.

A ball unfired
is best retired
to join a club
that is a pub
where scotch on ice
will suffice.
No more balls fired,
golf clubs retired,
that vest of plaid
doesn’t suit a lad
who is, I think,
best suited to drink.

For such a lad, I think it’s best
to drink the scotch and ditch the vest.

Prompt words for Wordle 533 are: signal, drive, plaid, lone, life, joke ice, fire, club, merry, fly and join

December 26

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December 26

We’re all mindful of the date. Christmas has been done.
Jingle bells are now passé. “Noel” has had its run.
Mall Santas can be irascible for another year
until Christmas season once again draws near
and they must again be jovial, mindful of the tykes
who must be assuaged with their promises of bikes
or quantities of other toys as parents hovering near
make lists of wished-for plunder they’re meant to overhear.
Cash registers the whole mall through will jingle jangle jingle
as crowds of Christmas shoppers brave the crowds to mingle
and provide their little darlings with all that they desire.
So do stores and Santa Claus every year conspire
to insure our economy continues to expand.
So as he bows and leaves the stage, give Santa Claus a hand!

 

Prompt words today are jovial, mindful, bow, irascible and quantity. Images by Chris Murray and Mike Arney on Unsplash.

Weddings Banned–Market in a Tailspin

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Weddings Banned–Market in a Tailspin

They’re banning marriage in America. The vote has just come in.
Such illicit gatherings are now declared a sin.
No flower-littered church aisles. No presents neatly wrapped.
Ring bearers are now passé, honeymoon routes unmapped.

Parsons and priests are limited to un-bridal functions:
baptisms and funerals, sermons and  extreme unctions.
Department stores will probably have to cut back hours
when they feel the drop in sales from no more bridal showers.

The diamond market has gone bust as have sales of cake.
Bakeries are trying to think of other things to make
like maybe first-date cookies or three-tiered valentines,
make-out brownies, passion pies or set-up clementines.

Nationwide, each future bride is busy now, I’m certain,
altering her bridal veil into a window curtain.
The only positive result is no more bridesmaid dresses
of nylon net or taffeta or other gauche excesses.

No reason has been given for this bizarre decision
that’s met with voter outrage and the whole world’s derision.
The press without exception declares this law as dastardly,
declaring that an entire generation will be bastardly.

Kids will not bear fathers’ names. Connections will be lost,
with only mothers being the ones to bear the cost
of doctor bills and dental bills and clothes and vaccinations,
of summer camp and prom dresses and college educations.

The men will all be free to sleep with any random hottie
and spend their dough on gambling debts or a new Maserati.
Perhaps that is the secret of why nine out of ten
legislators voted for the law–they are all men!

Prompt words today are illicit, gathering, unction, flower and wrapped, Image by Ben White on Unsplash.

“Why Don’t You Let Me Iron That for You?”

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“Why Don’t You Let Me Iron That for You?”

When there is a wrinkle, she works fast to smooth it out.
She loves to plug the iron in and move it all about.
Steam wafting all around her, she executes arm action.
She finds it scintillating dealing with each new infraction
of the rule that each garment should hang seamless and true,
without a single furrow dividing it from you.
She feels no reluctance in relieving clothes of wrinkles—
no puckers and no creases. No scrunches and no crinkles.
Because of her I’m faultless. My wardrobe is sublime,
for in Yolanda’s view, a wrinkled garment is a crime!

 

Yolanda has been my housekeeper, accomplice and friend for twenty years now. She rearranges my belongings, leaving little jokes, removes dust and fingerprints and generally rules the roost when it comes to the state of my house. In addition, neither I nor any houseguest can leave the house without meeting with her discerning eye. and if she spots a wrinkle, you can be sure she’ll whip the iron out and insist that it be dealt with. I’ve never yet won an argument to the contrary.

Prompt words today are scintillate, smooth, waft, reluctant and fast.

Family Christmas Visit

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Family Christmas Visit

“Halleluiah” she cried when I walked through the door.
It was clear I’m the sister she tends to adore.
My mercurial rise to the top of her list
began on the day that I chose to exist.
In particular, days when she finds her life taxing,
she finds me essential to aid her relaxing.
It’s tempting to say it’s because I’m so cool,
but I don’t think it’s that as a general rule.
I think that my charm is that I’m so familiar.
The power of my presence is merely familial.

After 24 hours with no sleep and a crazy two and a half hour trip through Guadalajara airport and still nearly missing my plane, it was a blessing to finally arrive in Phoenix and to eventually
sink into a bed for a four-hour sleep. It took another hour or so to get online, where these prompts awaited me. Now it is 7:23 at night—twelve hours after I arrived—and I’m finally getting my prompt poem written. I showed my sister the five prompt words and asked her to give me the first line, which I changed a bit and used as the first line of this poem. Blame her, partially, for prompting the rest.

Prompt words today are hallelujah, mercurial, essential, relax, tempting.

Forgottenman suggested I add a few photos of Patti and me from the past and I always mind, so here they are. Click on photos to enlarge.

With our Xmas dolls, in Betty’s green checked bedroom.
First day of school.
Patti and I under the rose trellis.

First Date Optimism

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This week, the prompt words were doozies. It might help a bit to explain that the incredibly obscure word “demesne” (which is a piece of land one has sole title to) is pronounced to rhyme with “pain.” I’ll leave it up to you to determine the meaning of “whiffle” and “obfuscate” from the context in which they are used. Not my fault, folks. It was in the prompts!!!!!

First Date Optimism

You exaggerate the matter if you say I’m your demesne.
That untruthful statement is purely most insane.
What started out a whiffle, you’ve made into a gale
by weaving our first date into a fairytale.

But I must take exception to your bending of the truth.
You are not my Boaz and I am not your Ruth.
If you think I’ll marry you after our first date,
As I said in the beginning, I fear you obfuscate!!!

 

Prompt words for the day are obfuscate, except, whiffle, demesne . Image by Priscilla du Preez on Unsplash.

Empty Pockets at Fifty

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Empty Pockets at Fifty

My pockets are turned inside out.
No riches do I have to flout.
This state of my intimidation
is perhaps an apt reflection
of my early hesitation
to obtain an education.
Perhaps if I had done my math,
I’d have pursued a richer path!

Prompt words today are pocket, intimidate, hesitation, spoil and reflection.

Air Despair

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Air Despair

I get goosebumps every time I travel via jet,
but I haven’t  crashed and burned or perished as of yet.
Pedants say my chances of crashing are remote,
but nonetheless, if I could choose, I’d rather take a boat.

The revelry is greater and the distance to the ground
is cushioned way much better with water all around.
It’s easier to stretch one’s legs, there’s shuffleboard, a pool,
and every cabin has a bed with private sink and stool!

Although planes are faster, what’s the hurry? What’s the rush?
Consider airplane food, the tiny restrooms and the crush.
First class in planes has nothing on last class in luxury cruisers.
In short, I think planes were invented for impatient losers!!

Prompts today are revelry, jet, pedant and goosebumps.

Poetic License in a Temperate Climate

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Poetic License in a Temperate Climate

December’s moved south of the border where it isn’t so icy and cold,
but still of all of the months of the year, it’s the one where the weather’s most bold.

It’s that time of the year where I profit from staying in bed until nine,
my bed being where I feel warmest—snuggled in blankets, supine.

At seven and eight it is silent, each dog still curled in his bed,
as I burrow into my poem of the day, rousting it out of my head.

It finds a new home on my hard drive, thus quelling my need to relate
as all of my creative juices suddenly seem to abate.

As my poetry swells to fruition, I finally stir from my nest
to dress in my toe socks and leggings, my sweater and wooly warm vest.

A poem survives any weather, surrounded by peers on the screen,
but even in temperate countries, December remains the most mean.

By April, I’ll feel warm and toasty and I’ll need a different reason
for staying in bed until nine when it is such a perfectly temperate season.

 

Yes, it’s true. I even wear them in bed!  Prompt words today are December, profit, silent,
quell and home.

Family Feud

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Family Feud

The quarrels in my family are numerous at best.
If I say they are ubiquitous, believe me, I don’t jest.
Daddy’s always angry. Mama’s always in a tiff.
If discord had an odor, you’d always get a whiff
as you wandered past our windows or entered our front door,
and if you thought to mention them, we’d only produce more.

Bring up race relations and there’ll be no interstice
between Daddy’s rants and ravings that display his prejudice
and Mama’s stepping in with her opposing point of view.
Then before you know it, they’ll unite to lambast you!
We seldom have a visitor and have no friends at all.
No salesmen knock upon our door and no neighbors call.

If I threw a slumber party and had friends to spend the night,
the angst here’s so infectious that we’d have a pillow fight.
No cousins ever join us at Thanksgiving to give thanks
because our extended family has fired us from its ranks.
We are the loneliest clan in town, and that for sure’s no fiction.
But— if we have nothing else, at least we have conviction!

 

Before you ask, this is fiction! Prompt words today are ubiquitous, tiff, prejudice, interstice and mention. Image by Afif Kusuma on Unsplash.