Category Archives: humorous poem

Plumming Issues

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Plumming Issues

Plumming Issues

My disgruntled spouse surveyed the plum,
squeezed it between palm and thumb,
saw that there were plenty more
in the tree that grew next door,
and though the crop was most abundant,
merely saw it as redundant.

There were no grapes for him to filch.
Bananas? It had proffered zilch.
No oranges or apples to
seed and peel and slice and chew.
No limes or lemons to produce
a glass of fresh-squeezed zesty juice.

It made him sad and rather glum
to see plum after purple plum
hung on the tree. Could I dispute
his  claim that we’d have to commute
to steal instead various fruit?
I felt his argument was moot.

One must make do with what might come.
The progeny of plum was plum.
If he required figs or berries,
peaches, kiwi fruit or cherries,
he’d have to head out to the store
or plant a a dozen trees or more.

He’d have to mulch and trim and spray,
water every other day,
and wait for years for fruit to grow,
but he was hungry now and so
he went outside and picked him some
plum after plum and plum and plum.

For NaPoWriMo 2023,Day 17

Not a Love Poem for NaPoWriMo 2023, Day 16

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Not a Love Poem

This is not a love poem. I will not relate those charms
you’ve displaced from earlier boundaries to someone else’s arms.
You no longer fill my daydreams and every random thought.
I’ve cleared my mind of schemes with which it formerly was fraught.
You are not the one I reach for to fill out the night.
Not the one I quote to friends. Your wisdom I don’t cite.
I’ve ripped up all the old words and replaced them with these:
bounder and philanderer, liar, cheat and sleaze.
And now that I have located the words that better fit,
whatever is the opposite of love poem? This is it.

For NaPoWriMo today we are to write a poem that talks about what something is “not.” Image by Engin Akyurt on Unsplash.

Poet Think

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Poet Think

The brain is a contraption that hasn’t any muscle.
It depends on other things for its schemes and hustle.
Our skull makes it impregnable by ordinary means,
but inside it’s fat, salt, water, carbohydrates and proteins.
It can be your enemy or it can be your buddy.
Sometimes it’s filled with thoughts profuse. At other times, it’s muddy.
When it plods along its movement is a bit pedestrian,
but on a good day it begins to move with speed equestrian.
Feed your brain and I am sure it will take care of you,
and if you’re lucky every day think up a poem anew!!!!

 

Prompt words today are muscle, impregnable, equestrian, profuse, mud and contraption. Image by Milad Fakuri on Unsplash.

Love’s Illusions for NaPoWriMo Apr 15, 2023

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Love’s Illusions

I fear that my Adonis became an Achille’s heel.
His charms were an illusion. He wasn’t the real deal.
His bombastic bearing was one I could not bear.
I plumbed his deepest psyche and found it wasn’t there.

His attempts to woo and win me were perfectly rehearsed.
We were Samson and Delilah, but the ending was reversed!
I was the one who lost my head. Thank God it was not literal,
for when he sought to wield his sword, his target was just clitoral.

My romantic Odysseys give precious little peace.
At times I’ve felt like Jason, seeking the Golden Fleece.
A female Don Quixote, with endless optimism,
If I’d met Dr. Jekyll, I’d have overlooked the schism.

I’ve felt passion ignited via heroes from the telly,
but then found out that my Clark Kent turned into Machiavelli!
Bat Man became a vampire, which was most disillusioning.
So at least for the present, I swear off romantic fusioning!

 

For the NaPoWriMo prompt today, we are to think of a person – real or imagined – who has been held out to you as an example of how to be of live, but who you have always had doubts about. Write a poem that exaggerates the supposedly admirable qualities of the person in a way that exposes your doubts. Illustration by King Lip on Unsplash, Used with permission

Working off Calories

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Working off Calories

Once I’ve xertzed down my dessert and licked clean my plate,
I subject my coffee to a similar fate.
And exhausting my sugar and caffeine allowance,
I nonetheless refuse to state my avowance,
for I cannot quit cold either sugar or coffee—
lattes or chocolate or cupcakes or toffee.
I won’t make a pact to take that big leap
to make empty promises that I can’t keep.
I’m suffused with the shame of these terrible truths:
I’m addicted to donuts and adore Baby Ruths.
Then gulps of coffee between every bite
keep me awake, I admit, every night
which means countless trips from my bed to the shelf
where I keep the means for indulging myself!
And it’s true that I scarf down more delectable treats,
but in my efforts to gather more treats,
I get most of my exercise going and coming,
getting in steps  on the way to my yumming.

 

I Prompt words are cold, pact, xertz, suffuse, allowance and empty. Image by Isumi Daizy on Unsplash.

Nipped Bud! For Prompts and NaPoWriMo, Apr 13, 2023

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A Flowery Metaphoric Rejection on a Bad Cold Day

When it comes to heroes, I prefer mine picaresque–
not one that clouds his meanings in terms more picturesque.

“We could make some upbeat music?” Your intent I can’t detect,
so I must entreat you, try to use words more direct.

All my friends have warned me you’re desirous of my hand,
but you seem to seek my membership in some sort of band.

I, too, can speak in metaphors, admiddedly not choral,
for instead of musical, my imagery is floral.

I cannot speak concisely for I have ad awful code.
But as to our conjoining,? Gotta snip it in the node!

 

(Disclaimer: I had written this all in lingo that sounded like a bad cold, but it seemed indecipherable, so I reverted to just using it in the last two lines.)

Prompts today are upbeat, picturesque, direct, entreat, node and membership.
Also, For NaPoWriMo 13

Overheard (For NaPoWriMo Apr 11, 2023)

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Overheard in the Home for Retired Musicians

I’m stymied by your crepitus. Your embouchure’s divine.
If you don’t have your own tune, would you harmonize with mine?
Your tonality is breathtaking, your rhythm right on beat.
Your syncopation’s perfect. I fear I can’t compete.
As we play, our joints keep time. My knees snap, crackle, pop.
If our music were to lead to love, you’d have to be on top!

For NaPoWriMo

Regimen

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Regimin

I eat vegetables, berries and seeds to quell my hunger,
for I gotta mind my gullet. I’m not getting any younger!
I must nullify the ills of a life of over-eating
if I wanna dull the din of a heart that’s over-beating.

Jane Fonda is my idol. Can you see the pecs on me?
I exercise each morning, and my diet’s sugar-free.
I’m gonna live forever ’cause I jog and bike and run.
My one and only problem is, I never have no fun!

Words of the day are gullet, nullify, idol, din, seed and free. Image by Malik Skydsgaard on Unsplash. 

Bossing Words Around

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Bossing Words Around

Poems used be as easy as falling off a log,
but I get more rickety with every single blog.
Sure, there is a wellspring of thoughts within my head,
but there’s a bit of work involved before those thoughts get read.
Sometimes they disband and fall apart before they’re pieced,
and no one ever sees these poems that end up as deceased.
So though words are my idols, whether earthy or dramatic,
I must say dealing with them is sometimes most traumatic.
If only words would step in line in meaning and in rhyme,
perhaps I would achieve my goal every single time!

Today’s prompts are log, rickety, idol, wellspring, dramatic, and disbanded.

Maybe also for NaPoWriMo?

I had a very traumatic day, actually, and when I came to the end of it and finally had time to write this poem, I found that Forgottenman had totally set up all the prompt links for me, including for NaPoWriMo.  This for me is sweeter than chocolates or flowers!  And that is the reason why I’m even posting a poem today.  oxoxox to him.

Fly-Bye on the Day of the Dead

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Fly-Bye on the Day of the Dead

That fly that chose to falter
for a minute on the altar
I’d constructed for my lover
should have made the choice to hover.

The worst choice of all
was to choose to land and crawl
attracting my attention
to a means of his detention.

Namely, to kill the squatter
with a switch of my fly swatter.
Though he was silent ever after,
no more soaring floor and rafter,

it was I who did the gasping,
for the bottle he was clasping
of my mourned-ones favorite drink
soared out to shatter in the sink.

Thus in the battle between darter
and me, he was the martyr
while I strained my funny bone
accepting actions to atone

by cleaning glass shards from the table
and all places I was able
to reach within the kitchen
without grumbling and bitchin’.

Then I quickly made a trip
to buy a sticky strip
so future flies would be defeated
and my actions not repeated.

 

Prompts For the Sunday Swirl Wordle 600
are: bones gasping strip switch shatters battle fly altar martyr bottle crawl falter

Also for NaPoWriMo