Category Archives: humorous poem

A Misanthropic Anti-Creed

 

Version 2

The assignment was to write a 6-line alphabet poem that started each line with a letter of the alphabet in a 6-letter sequence.  I.E. abcdef, qrstuv, etc.  Being a creature of excess, I used the entire alphabet, forwards and backwards, ending with a final Z to boot, since the title began with an “A.”  Please note that this is the cynical rant of a misanthrope—not necessarily my own view.  And this is the only photo I could find in my album that smacked of high society.  Actually, it’s a photo of me and my date for the junior prom.

A Misanthropic Anti-creed

After all is said and done,
brotherhoo is not much fun.
Cliques are just a machination
Dumbing down imagination. 
Each misanthrope must find his own
Final method to disown
Galas thrown to feed the poor
Hawking excesses they abhor.
In jewels, ladies you could die of,
Jostling to catch the eye of
Kings of minor countries or
Lords who are the things of lore.
Meanwhile, gents in tux and tie
Nod to try to catch the eye
Of that next lady in Dior
Possessed of means to feed the poor.
Quickened now, they move to kill,
Ready to restore their till.
Society’s main charity
Trying for a parity
Under the understanding that
Verisimilitude is boring.
What’s important is just scoring
Xcess being all the norm
Yielding to those who most conform.
Zero, then, goes to the poor.
You must admit, they are a bore.
Xtravagence is what they come for.
Widows they won’t waste a crumb for.
Very likely that the starving
Urgently needing  this feast’s carving
Taste not one small bite of it,
Still hungry now in spite of it.
Rich charity spends what’s allowed on
Quality that draws the crowd on.
Pheasant under glass costs more.
Only beans left for the poor. 
Not a charitable hope
Mars ponderings of our misanthrope.
Let not one charitable thought
Knit his brow.With doubts it’s fraught.
Jarring thoughts are all he thinks
In between ironic winks.
Hear well the stories he might tell—
Gory threats of burning hell
For that well-heeled society
Eating up the profits of
Doubtful fund raisers of love.
“Charitize” to feed the poor,
But really serve their own needs more.
Ask the misanthrope at the door.
Zero is left to feed the poor!!!!

The dVerse Poets prompt is to write a 6 line alphabet phone, using 6 letters in sequence to begin lines.  Here is the link: https://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=12Sep2018&meme=12493

On the Bottle

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On the Bottle

Even though the likelihood I’ll do so might diminish,
the few times  I’ve been tipsy, I’ve still made it to the finish.
And though the fact I crawled the last few blocks made me most pensive,
you must admit my efforts to get home were comprehensive!

Okay, here are the real prompts for today: comprehensive, tipsy, diminish

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/09/fowc-with-fandango-comprehensive/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/09/tipsy/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/diminish

Lazy Man’s Creed

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Lazy Man’s Creed

How I loathe a hard day’s labor at the furrow or the stile.
It makes me cross and angry. I become volatile!
A sage once gave me this advice: what’s earned will serve thee best,”
but I quipped back with, “Any labor undone is the best!”

The prompt words today were labour, loathe, sage and volatile. Here are the links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/03/rdp-monday-prompt-labour/

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/03/fowc-with-fandango-loathe/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/03/volatile/volatile

https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/sage

Compulsion to Rhyme II

 

Compulsion to Rhyme II

By now you’ve read my oeuvre once or twice before.
It’s bulging out of file cases, stacked upon the floor.
It’s quickly filling up my blog and straying to the media.
Soon I fear I must compose my own encyclopedia.
It started out a habit but soon became compulsion.
My housecleaner surveys my poems with undisguised revulsion.
Spiders live within the files, cats use them for their beds,
so they serve grander purposes than cluttering up heads.
Perhaps someone could stop me with a cudgel or a gun,
but lacking that, I fear that when my final poem is done,
my heirs will have to market my oeuvre by the ton.

 

The prompt today was oeuvre. In case you’ve never encountered the word without its buddies hors and d’,  used alone, oeuvre means the works of a painter, composer or author, regarded collectively.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/08/29/wednesday-prompt-oeuvre/

The Fan Letter



The Fan Letter

Granted, my heart did flutter at the words of adulation
in the fan letter that came while I was on vacation.
Accepted by my mother, who suffers from dementia,
yet deals with all deliveries while I am in absentia,
it said that I was handsome, clever, brave and cuddly,
with a stellar presence and a figure that was studly!
It is not any statement that stirs me to demean it,
yet if I were home I think I never would have seen it.
I am not parsimonious, yet usually eschew
these laudatory letters that come with postage due!

The prompt words are due, parsimonious, flutter and adulation. (The word wasn’t posted yet for Ragtag, so I used the other word from the 26th, when two were posted.) When I searched my media file using the word “handsome,” this picture of my friend Dave was the only photo out of thousands that come up.  The WordPress media file has spoken, Dave. You are the “it” boy of this poem!!!!

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/08/29/fowc-with-fandango-due/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/08/29/parsimonious/

https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/08/26/daily-addictions-2018-week-34/flutterhttp://www.inlinkz.com/new/view.php?id=795401

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/08/26/rdp87-adulation/
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/08/29/wednesday-prompt-oeuvre/

Earthlings

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Earthlings

Children love to play in it,
while miners spend their day in it.
We grow our food and build each home
in our planet’s dark rich loam. 
If we are wise, we choose to mentor it,
lest too soon we’re called to enter it.

The prompt word for the dVerse Poets Quadrille challenge was “earth.” The only rule for a quadrille is that it must be exactly 44 words long, not counting the title.

Random Travel

Random Travel

There’s precious little rectitude in knowing where you’re going.
Straight lines are only called for when you’re writing or you’re sewing.
I think there’s room in travel for a little ingenuity
so long as you don’t coddiwomple on in perpetuity.

The words today are ingenuity, rectitude, precious and coddiwomple. Here are the links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/08/27/monday-prompt-coddiwomple/
(To coddiwomple is “to travel in a purposeful manner towards a vague destination.)
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/08/27/fowc-with-fandango-ingenuity/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/08/27/rectitude/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/08/26/daily-addictions-2018-week-34/precious

Unruly Punctuation

(for this poem to work, you have to pronounce the name of each punctuation mark that is talked about as a punctuation mark and not merely in use functionally.)

Unruly Punctuation

When a guy driving a GMC
swoops into line in front of me
and takes the place I meant to park,
I use an !

While the ,’s made for multi-tasking,
in a sentence meant for asking,
there has to be a ?
lest readers be left in the dark.

An ! is fine
when simply put at end-of-line,
but, too many (quite a fault of mine)
bring out the punctuation narcs
to ban those !!!!!!!!!!

Those abounding in . . .
are labeled punctuation gypsies
because they don’t know when to stop.
So please call in a grammar cop.

I must admit that I am rash
and tend to overuse the .
What’s more, my editor goes crazy
when I forget or just get lazy.
His eyes bug out, his face goes red
when I make use of – instead.

The . is the simplest mark.
At sentence end it’s meant to park.
It’s always put where it is best
to let the sentence come to rest,
and no one puts it elsewhere lest
the reader is put to the test
to search from clause to clause to clause
to figure out where he can pause.

When I think of rhymes for ,
only strange words like pajama
are what come to mind—or llama—
or words not to the point, like “mama;”
so I’ll just say the Oxford ,
is like the Tea Party to Obama.
If his (and my) advice is heeded,
it will be clear that they’re not needed!!!

The purpose of the 
is as clear as it can be:
Judy’s car or Judy’s house,
Judy’s dog or Judy’s spouse.
Yet, when the pronoun enters in,
it is the biggest grammar sin
to use apostrophes for possession
(although I’ll make this hard confession
that often I, unthinkingly,
will write it’s where it never fits.)
It’s in possession should be its!)
“It’s” only used as a contraction.
(It’s a faction, but not it’s faction.)

I think I may conduct a poll on
: versus ;
Which one separates two clauses,
signaling those longer pauses;
and which one signifies a list?
I’m sure that you have got the gist
of which is which—where each should go
to end this punctuation woe.

( ) mark an aside, much as amight do,
Like “ ”, they’re paired. You always must use two.
Which brings us to the  that joins a compound word.
You never put a space in. To do so is absurd.
You should not use it as a dash with spaces on each side.
That is an antique usage that I simply can’t abide.

Yet if you choose to Google some of the rules here,
there will be discrepancies from site to site, I fear.
What I say they’ll question. They’ll support what I must pan.
So I can only say that I’ve accomplished what I can.
In spite of all my studying, despite my dedication—
I find that few agree on rules applied to punctuation!!!!

https://dversepoets.com/

Unfortunate Fashion Choices

Unfortunate Fashion Choices

The dancer wore a tube top, for a hat, flowers with pot.
His partner was a pistol freshly fired, really hot.
She didn’t get his outfit. She didn’t groove his vibes.
Wherever he had touched her, she soon broke out in hives.
The moves that he suggested were not what she desired.
Instead of feeling challenged, she just felt merely tired.

He found he could not lead her, so he followed her instead—
reading her faint signals, going everywhere she said.
When the stereo instructions told them to embrace,
she did a dive under his arm to evade his face.
She danced herself around him and directed him to kneel,
and when she jumped up on his back, she speared him with her heel.

All-in-all,  total disaster, for when he dipped her down,
her bodice ripped asunder. Parts popped out of her gown.
He quickly pulled his tube top off and pulled it o’er her head.
Pulled out his pocket sewing kit—his needle and his thread.
He sewed up her damaged bodice and she retired to the loo
to change her top and do whatever girls in bathrooms do.

He waited there bare-breasted with the soil sifting down
from the damaged flower pot, turning his shoulders brown.
When she returned, he took her home. The blind date was a flop.
He should have worn a derby hat and a different top.
His good-night kiss rejected, he stood on her veranda,
ruing the fact he’d styled himself after Carmen Miranda!

 

The three “things” are: flower pot, stereo instructions, dancer and the link to the prompt is: https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/08/24/three-things-challenge-24-august-2018/

Anticipating Codgerdom

Anticipating Codgerdom

Sometimes I have a feeling I’m becoming rather stuffy.
My reflexes, once numerous, are getting sort of fluffy.
Whereas shocking folks was once my avocation,
all of my bravado seems to be on a vacation.

But probably my seventies are simply a respite.
Once I become older, I can cuss and hit and bite
and create all the problems in the realm of my ability
and everyone will not blame me. They’ll blame it on senility

 

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/08/24/rdp-85-fluffy/

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/08/24/fowc-with-fandango-reflex/

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/08/24/bravado/

https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/numerous