Category Archives: humorous poetry

Beating the Bans

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Beating the Bans

If you think that I’ve flunked at being a wife
and been 86’d from a domestic life,
was it the pie crust that I made too tough?
Might I have failed at life in the buff?
Didn’t I kiss right? Did I flub the pressing,
leaving a wrinkle in my husband’s dressing?
Did I speak out too much for my kind?
Not take into account that fellows might mind
if I had a career of my own to take care of,
not feeling it adequate I had a pair of
breasts you could fondle or legs I could wind,
an adequate body, a perky behind?
If I’m not the kind of lass you might marry,
the sort who leaves you rattled and wary:
brash and smart and outspoken and bold,
excellent negotiator, stubborn and cold?
If I am unfit as a humble home’s resident,
perhaps I might make you an excellent president!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/banned/

Bar Stool Brush-Off

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Writer’s Digest Prompt: Write a poem making use of at least three of these words: ghost, crack, free, hand, check, know. I used them all at least once.

Bar Stool Brush-Off

There’s not a ghost of a chance
that you’ll crack my code,
free-wheeling know-it-all
that you are.
But as your hand smooths
that errant strand of hair
back into its perfect place,
I’ll hand you this:
every time you check your reflection
in the mirror behind the bar,
it is clear no number of looks
will clue you in to yourself.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-368

Morning Protein

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Morning Protein

Each morning when I waken, I take a little pill;
but though it is to boost my health, today it made me ill.
Before I went to slumber, I poured a glass of Coke
so it would be there in the night if I began to choke.
I know it isn’t usual, but it works for me.
Somehow it works to clear my throat and leaves the passage free.

So when I took my pill this morning, feeling sort of hazy,
I didn’t go for water, but instead I was just lazy.
I lifted up the Coke cup, filled almost to the brim,
and only had a little sip before up to the rim
something solid floated that shouldn’t have been there.
I felt something that tickled––like very coarse stiff hair.

Later, I was glad I hadn’t taken bigger sips,
for as it was, just part of it made it past my lips.
I hurried to the bathroom and spit and spit and spit,
then emptied out the cup and didn’t look at it
as a big dead cockroach went swirling down the drain.
Will I drink without looking? No. Never again.

The prompt this morning was “Clumsy.”

A Passing Grace

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“Graceful” is today’s prompt word.

A Passing Grace

Where is the grace in our swift world?
Does it lie hidden, obscurely curled
In younger limb or nimbler spine,
in movement smooth and gesture fine?
As I pondered over this,
I started to feel hunger’s hiss,
so fed the dogs their morning meat,
then turned my mind to what I’d eat.

I piled my bowl with bran and berries
and when it came to choice of dairies?
Ice cream if I must be truthful.
(My eating habits, at least, are youthful.)
I headed for the dining room
and then—a crash and solid boom
as I went down with flail and swish,
having stepped in Frida’s dish.

I landed flat—leg, arm and head.
As for the bowl? The bowl is dead.
As it exploded in dust and shard,
berries, cream and bran hit hard
and efficiently dispersed themselves
o’er floor and cabinets and shelves
as I lay moaning on the floor
with swelling ankle and what’s more—

a skinned up arm and throbbing knee—
bemoaning what was wrong with me.
Where is the grace in our swift world?
Does it lie hidden, obscurely curled
In younger limb—or nimbler spine?
It’s clear it is not lodged in mine!
For whatever other talents I’ve got,
when it comes to “graceful,” I am not.

Here are the graceful creatures I had intended to write about:

 

 

Absentee Ballot

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For the past fifteen years, I’ve voted by absentee ballot in Mexico. This year I had particular problems with getting registered and thought I’d failed when suddenly, as if by magic, I received my absentee ballot via e-mail.  My good fortune, as I’m presently visiting in the states and I can just mail it in this year and it will get there in time!  So, I connected my laptop to my friend’s printer and pressed the “print” button.  This, truthfully, was the result.

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Absentee Ballot

When I  went to print the ballot out,
minutes later I had to shout
“Stop!!!!” when minute after minute
the printer always had more in it!
It printed out ream after ream
no end in sight—so it would seem.

To vote for president was simple,
but that just seemed to be a pimple
on the ass of all the choices
for which they sought to hear our voices.
Senators for state and nation,
congressmen, then more frustration:

water boards and State Assembly,
then measures ’til my hands grew trembly.
Statements by  candidates to rate,
endorsements, ballot measure debate,
instructions, warnings, declarations
occasioning more perturbations.

School bonds, statutes, legislation,
reeled out with no hesitation.
Tax extensions,cigarette tax,
laws that we were asked to axe.
School laws that were multilingual,
laws prophylactic, cunnilingual.

Initiatives on marijuana,
and fire protection made me wanna
rip my hair and cuss and scream.
Still out they rolled, ream after ream.
When I got to number sixty-seven,
it made me want to pray to heaven,

“Please, dear God, not one measure more
or I’ll soon be at heaven’s door!”
I gave the ballot one more poke
as with one sure determined stroke,
I banned the plastic bag, then broke
my pen over my knee–a joke,

for then another page popped out
as victory smirk turned into pout.
District initiatives, then county
made me rue this voting bounty.
For when I thought that I was done,
I discovered I had just begun.

Pages? Thirty-seven in all
are printed out, before they  fall
fluttering, onto my floor.
The printer burps, pops out one more.
“Oath of Voter” said this one.
And so I cussed.  And I was done!!!

 

 

The prompt today was “Perplexed.”

Midnight Minuet

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Midnight Minuet

Sneaking down the unlit hall,
we take turns answering nature’s call,
awaiting our own turn to sneak
to the john to have a leak.

In the darkness, we repeat
this rather tricky hourly feat.
Him, then her, then me at last.
So are our nightly ramblings cast.

It is not choice that brings us here
to void ourselves of pop or beer.
In fact, a full night’s sleep we seek—
our intentions strong, but bladders weak.

At eleven, twelve and one and two,
sleeping is what we’d rather do.
Instead, we do-si-do—just missing
the next sojourner bent on pissing!

 

This poem is dedicated to all of those over sixty who find themselves taking more nightly journeys down the hall than in the past. Perhaps, like me, you are a houseguest. If so, there is no avoiding the nocturnal shuffle if your hosts, like you, are of a certain age.

Expert

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Expert

I used to be plucky, I used to be pert.
I used to pass muster in shorts or a skirt.
But lately my pert parts have just seemed to shift,
and various parts are in need of a lift.
Big tops are my saviors. Caftans are my friends––
obscuring my excesses, shielding my bends.
Back in my plucky days, I was a flirt,
but seduction is over now I’m an ex-pert!

 

The prompt today was “Expert.”

Witness

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Dining Out


When I’m in a public place
talking to friends, face-to-face,
and my secrets I choose to tell
to those I’ve known both long and well;

when I swear them to secrecy,
I need to also remind me
that of two actions I have the choice.
Watch what I say or lower my voice.

What nearby tables say and do,
I’m sometimes silent witness to.
The realization I may lack
is that perhaps they’re listening back!


The prompt word today was “Witness.”

Final Jeopardy

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Final Jeopardy

I don’t feel in jeopardy, don’t feel in danger.
I feel as protected as sheep at a manger.
I’ve deadlocks and bolt locks and high walls and bars,
passwords on my iBook, alarms on my cars.
With insurance policies paid for a year
on my car, house and health, there’s no reason to fear.

Jeopardy lately is something I’m lacking.
My virus protection secures me from hacking.
And as I get older, with more things to fear,
I’ll invest in a cane and Depends for my rear.
Now nearly everything has a solution.
It seems a development in evolution.

Our hides are less tough but our hearts just beat stronger
when we replace them so we can live longer.
We can buy a new hip or replace a bad knee.
There’s only one problem that I can foresee.
Memory replacement is what they should do
so we could remember where we’re walking to!

The prompt today was jeopardize.

 

Stubborn as a . . . .

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Stubborn as a . . . .

I must admit I’m stubborn, argumentative and such.
All these adverse qualities have me in their clutch.
But my mother’s from Missouri and my dad’s family is Dutch,
so they’re  the ones to blame for it, thank you very much!

If you call it tenacity it ends up sounding better.
I go from being mulish to being a go-getter,
and my stubborn tendencies cease to be a fetter.
They serve me as an asset instead of as a debtor.

As dogged as a pit bull,  determined as a cat.
A bull can be most bullish, you can’t argue much with that.
You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink,
and nothing’s stubborn as a pig, no matter what you think.

So if you say I’m mulish, it’s neither here nor there.
Stubborn is one quality that’s not so very rare.
And when you point a finger and say I’m being rancorous,
the animal you’re channeling might be just as cantankerous!

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/stubborn/