Category Archives: humorous poem

The Leech

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proclaimed to be fine,

The Leech

They’ve plugged up their ears to muffle his mutterings.
They’re tired of his self-serving utterings.

He’s an indulgence they’d like to be shed of,
expunge from their sofa and free their spare bed of.

He thinks it’s tradition that they should take care of him,
yet they’d prefer that their house just be bare of him.

He’s a caricature of self-indulgence,
wallowing in familial abundance.

They need to be boxing his ears or possessions
and signing up for codependency sessions.

They’ve supported him well and sent him to college,
imbued him with clothes, with playthings and knowledge.

Now he needs to be kicked out to find his own life—
to be taught by experience, seasoned by strife.

Lest they make a mongrel of a fine pup,
it’s time they encourage their boy to grow up!

 

 

The prompt words today are tradition, caricature, indulgence and boxing.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/26/rdp-wednesday-tradition/

FOWC with Fandango — Caricature


https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/12/26/your-daily-word-prompt-indulgence-December-26-2018/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/26/boxing/

Intervening with the Solstice

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Intervening with the Solstice

They’re intervening with the solstice. We’re requiring more light,
though adding one more month to summer simply isn’t right.
They’ll put a manmade light up in the sky next to the sun.
We’ll have summer the whole year through once mankind is done!
Next, they’ll augment infinity and make the rain much wetter.
There’s nothing like a mortal man for making nature better!

For another poem on the subject of the solstice, go HERE.

The prompts are solstice, intervene and infinity.
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/21/rdp-friday-solstice/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/12/21/fowc-with-fandango-intervene/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/21/infinity/

Collapsed Bridge

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Collapsed Bridge

The bridge between us is a shambles. Water cascades between us.
John Gray would say that you’re from Mars whereas I am from Venus.
Most of what I treasure you consider superficial.
We are so far apart that we should now make it official.
You go your way, I’ll go mine, with no one to convene us.
It should not be traumatic so let’s just try to wean us
from all those little petty things that once brought us together,
like quince preserves, Scrabble and a fear of stormy weather.

We’d snuggle up and toast some toast and slather on the jelly,
bring out the quilts and Scrabble board and just ignore the telly.
Pepperoni pizza and rum and Cokes and cards
once kept our crystalline affair from shattering to shards.
But since we’re both on diets from pizza and each other,
the blanket that once comforted now only serves to smother.
I’ll go my way, you go yours, as though we never met,
and if I’m craving Scrabble, I’ll use the Internet!

Prompt words today are bridge, treasure, shambles and cascade.
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/rdp-tuesday-bridge/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/12/18/fowc-with-fandango-treasure/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/shambles-2/https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/12/18/your-daily-word-prompt-cascade-December-18-2018/

Your Dishwasher’s Advocate

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Your Dishwasher’s Advocate

Cycle after cycle, they clean our dirty dishes
yet do we ever think about acceding to their wishes?
Maybe they, too, have appetites, and I sometimes think perhaps,
they were patiently waiting for their favorite scraps.

A bit of rich spaghetti sauce, a dollop of our mousse,
a little bit of buttered bread or rib eye’s savory juice
might have fulfilled their evening’s dreams or might have made their day,
But instead we diligently swab it all away!

No rich reward for faithful servants waiting for our scraps.
No satifsfactory searches for tidbits left in gaps.
And so they go another day, our faithful old machines,
without a taste of hamburgers or beets or nectarines.

They cannot live on water alone. Those soapsuds have no savor.
And so the next time when you scrape, please do your pal a favor.
Leave a few scraps on the plate. Don’t clean too well those tines.
Think about your faithful friend who oh too rarely dines.

Leave your dishwasher a tip—something on which to sup.
Leave wine dregs in your goblets and leave them facing up!
Leave rice grains in your rice bowl. Do not clear that sauce away.
Being less efficient, will make your Maytag’s day.

If your wife makes a kerfuffle over the job you do,
remind her it is you that’s here scraping off the goo.
Take her by the shoulders and deflect her view.
Your dishwasher is grateful for it every time you do!

 

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/12/16/fowc-with-fandango-cycle/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/16/wish/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/12/16/your-daily-word-prompt-kerfuffle-December-16-2018/

Home Plate: Sweet Victory

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It’s hot summer in the teeming city with tenements piled room-on-room. With narrow hallways and nonexistent grassy plots, where’s  a kid to play?

 

Home Plate: Sweet Victory

They’re playing baseball in the street again, forcing cars to wait,
restless in the intersection, ’til they see the fate
of the ball the bat just cracked, rising in the air
to land in someone’s flower pot or on the tenement stair.
They make such a brouhaha, loud boys and louder cars,
that Grandma rises up a bit to clutch at window bars.

It is a large commitment, for she can’t sit down again
without some help, but still she is attracted by the din.
Are car horns blaring  for the inconvenience or a homer?
The batter’s mad dash down the street and back a slight misnomer,
for first base is the red car and second base the yellow.
Cross the street and third base is the stair stoop of the fellow

who exits from his doorway, briefcase in his hand,
who seems in a great hurry and yet chooses to stand
to see the runner execute his skipping zigzag run
homeward toward the batter’s plate that holds a sticky bun.
Horns blaring as he executes his mission, ends his flight,
bends over, grabs his trophy, and takes his winning bite!

 

Prompt words today were play, intersection, commitment and brouhaha.
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/15/rdp-saturday-play/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/12/15/fowc-with-fandango-intersection/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/15/commitment/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/12/15/your-daily-word-prompt-brouhaha-December-15-2018/

No Energy

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No Energy

When he made his overture on electronic media,
it read as though he’d copied it from an encyclopedia.
Each sentence was incongruous with the one before,
his transitions nonexistent and his details all a bore.
He was indubitably boring, so she gave the guy a miss.
Judging by his message, imagining his kiss.

The prompts today are overture, electric, incongruous and indubitable.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/14/rdp-friday-overture/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/12/14/fowc-with-fandango-electric/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/14/incongruous/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/12/14/your-daily-word-prompt-indubitable-December-14-2018/

Coterie

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Coterie

Are you in my coterie or am I in thine?
I’d find it much more stimulating if you were in mine.
If I’m the leader of the pack, the one who’s picked to shine,
I admit, my friend, that I would find it most divine.

When folks pulled out their cameras, I would stand in the center.
At every social gathering, I’d be the first to enter.
I’d be the first to order when our group went out to dine.
I’d have  prime place at table. I’d get to choose the wine.

It would become tradition that I would be the star.
All the handsomest of men would eye me from afar.
But after this conjecturing, of course I could be wrong.
If I am in your coterie, I’d only tag along!

 

The prompt words today are coterie (love that word,) camera, stimulating and tradition. Here are the links:
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/12/rdp-wednesday-coterie/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/12/12/fowc-with-fandango-camera/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/12/stimulating/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/12/12/your-daily-word-prompt-tradition-December-12-2018/

 

My Shoes

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My Shoes

My shoes go out without me. They do it all the time,
and do the things I never do. They jog. They hike. They climb.
When I wake up I find them strewn throughout the house—
one flip flop on the counter. High heels beneath my blouse
that’s flung across the table where I don’t remember putting it.
I bet they’ve been out dancing—two-stepping and high-footing it.

When my cowboy boots go riding, I’d like to go along.
I’m pretty sure, however, they think things would go wrong.
Perhaps the horse would throw me or I’d wind up getting lost.
I’m sorry that I bought them, considering the cost!
Other people are the boss of all their clothes and shoes,
but when my shoes and I face off, I am the one to lose.

I could take to going barefoot. This would work while at the beach.
Then when all my shoes are out far beyond my reach,
into the surf I’ll wade and then wander out again,
trapping sand between my toes everywhere I’ve been.
So when my shoes get home at night, they’ll be completely clueless
that I’ve left them out as well by venturing out shoeless!

 

We were asked to write about an ordinary objects For dVerse Poet’s Pub.

Born Lazy

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Born Lazy

You can have your tennis, your jogging, golf and hiking.
I’d rather spend time coasting while other souls are biking.

You’ll never find my name in the record books of Guinness,
for I don’t excel at basketball or badminton or tennis.

Somehow, nature slighted me when it came to “gameness.”
When asked to participate, I simulate my lameness.

I guess I was born lazy. I simply love my bed.
I pretend not to hear it when the cat yowls to be fed.

When duty calls, I plug my ears and happily roll over.
I find it is more comfortable here in beds of clover.

Lucky at Languages, Unlucky at Love

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Image from freeimages.com            

This poem is pretty silly, but I like the challenge of using only one rhyme for an entire poem. More of a puzzle than anything else.

Lucky at Languages, Unlucky at Love

The night was warm and balmy and he was a man in uniform.
She was adept at languages from French to Greek to Cuneiform.
They met one balmy evening on the Eiffel Tower.
He aided her in climbing, then offered her a flower.
She thanked him first in French and when it drew a puzzled glance,
she surmised he must be from a place other than France.
She tried again in English, in Spanish and in Greek.
She would have tried her Chinese, but her Mandarin was weak.
She pointed to his medals, his ribbons and his bars—
all his decorations. She counted all his stars,
but could not find the language to express admiration.
And thus the evening ended, I fear in consternation.
The moral of the story? Put your horse before the cart. 
It’s best to know love’s language before you give your heart.

 

The prompts today were uniform and balmy. Here are the links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/03/rdp-monday-uniform/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/03/balmy/