Category Archives: Humorous Rhymes

Dear John

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Dear John

You say I’m not focused? I’m focused as glue.
The truth is that I am not focused on you!

 

The prompt today was focused.

This Prompt is Irrelevant!

 

This Prompt is Irrelevant

Each morning I rise early and make a cup of tea.
I feed the cats, then feed the dogs and sometimes I feed me.
Then I check out the The Daily Post to see what I can see,
propped up in bed, my laptop perched upon my knee.
Today I’m waging protest, in all sincerity,
because the prompt word given us is such an oddity.
Just how much more irrelevant could a prompt word be?
I’m sure it is unanimous, and you must agree.
Yet how can we complain of it? They give it to us free!!!

 

The prompt today is irrelevant, but I’ll write about it anyway. Ha!

 

“Diet”ribe

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“Diet”ribe

I have given up on oatmeal, overdosed on kale.
All these faddish food taboos have gone beyond the pale.
I do not count my calories, my glutens or my carbs.
The benefits for doing so are outweighed by the barbs.
I’m not turned on by Atkins. I can’t abide a fast.
I tried microbiotic, but the microbes didn’t last.

It’s become an epic battle when the girls go out to brunch.
It’s easier brokering world peace that where to go for lunch.
Before we take a mouthful, we must peruse all the ads
and compare what’s on the menu to the latest diet fads.
Then, once we find the perfect place and make the reservation,
Serafina calls me up to share her trepidation.

She’s started a new diet––something fabulously new––
and much as she hates to stir the pot, this restaurant won’t do.
We can’t go out for hamburgers. Laura’s a vegetarian.
She can’t abide the scent of flesh. She finds it most barbarian.
Of course, she will eat foodstuffs that are certified agrarian,
but salad’sout because my other friend is a fruitarian.

I asked them all to my house, bought exotic fruits and plums,
thinking a fruity salad would offend the fewest gums;
but a new friend cannot eat raw fruit. She finds it unhygienic,
and my artist friend will not eat foods she finds unphotogenic.
She balked at the rambutan and when she tried to swallow it,
choked and had to chug down a carafe of wine to follow it.

Molly is insisting on a diet ketogenic,
while Lucy won’t eat any vegetation that is scenic.
We’re reduced to no more dining out. Potlucks will have to do
with every guest providing whatever they can chew.
Me? I’ll bring a pizza. Pepperoni. Extra cheese.
And everyone can envy me as they eat what they please!

 

For dVerse Poets Open Link Night#204

Murder at Midnight

This was originally just written as a fast silly poem to forgottenman to explain why I hadn’t yet gone in swimming. He insisted I blog it which meant taking photos, but alas, no camera was to be found. Phone not charged. So, I used my Kindle, but couldn’t get photos mailed to myself so I emailed the pretty bad photos to him..but couldn’t reduce them enough to get them back by email. A good 45 frustrating minutes later, I went down to the studio, thinking I’d left my camera there, but alas, no camera. I did, however find my other computer that needed to be up in my house to download some things he was sending me.  I also found and killed a scorpion in the hall on my way out of the house. Back to the house to look once more in every room for my camera. Emptied my purse. No camera. Decided to go out to the garage to look in the car, I opened the front door and all 4 kittens flooded into the house. I’d forgotten to shut the gate between the front garden and the kitten domain! They immediately spread to the four corners of the house after each first going immediately to inspect the dead scorpion, which I then quickly disposed of. Finally corralled three and confined them in their sleeping room, but Kukla wasn’t to be found. Went out to garage. No camera in the car. On a hunch, I opened the back door and there it was on the floor of the backseat. It must have fallen out of my purse. Came back in, checked kittens, went out to take more photos in the back yard–of the subject of this poem–came back and heard Kukla crying, sealed in my bedroom. Let her out, tried to put her in with her peers and she ran off. She’s now purring on my lap as I type this. Photos now in the blog. Tried to put this explanation at the end but WP won’t cooperate and let me put anything below the last photo, so here we are, giving this long boring explanation when what you really want to get to is the:

Murder at Midnight

Went out to dip my toe in water,
thinking that perhaps I oughter
swim if it was not too hot
or if I found that it was not
cool enough, I’d blog some more;
but just a few feet from my door,
I found two obstacles depressing,
both of them, it’s true, more pressing
than my pool aerobics were.
The first, a snag of chewed-up fur
that turned out to be a dead rat.
The second was leaf cutter ants––
determined in their chained advance.
Thousands of them in a line,
carrying leaves on which they’d dine
later in their snug abode
outside my walls, across the road.
Unless I made a quick advance,
my trees and flowers would have no chance.
“I must be strong, I can’t demur.
I must play the murderer,”
I thought as I sprinkled a line
of poison pellets on which they’d dine.
Thus did I join my canine friends
in bringing creatures to their ends.
Fate may forgive our murdering ways,
but it won’t end our murdering phase.

 

(Photos may be enlarged by clicking on first photo.)

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Judy's new haircut and thin lips

Offender #2 (and, ironically, as I type this, a hitchhiking leaf cutter ant just bit me on the neck!  Murder number three.  I hope.  I took a swat but can’t find him.  He may yet exact another revenge.

Peculiar Little Habits

 

Peculiar Little Habits

Peculiar little habits and peculiar little ways
help us pass away the hours and wile away the days.
When you enter in the door, close it exactly twice
to be sure the catch secures as solid as a vice.
Always check the doorknobs before you go to bed
to be sure the deadbolt  is completely dead.
Security is something that can’t be left to chance.
You must man the battlements and take a vigilant stance.
Do not invite strangers to wander through your home.
Give foreign folks and foreign thoughts no further place to roam. 


Seal your borders. Block people who

may be a different color from you.
Be sure that you have set a ban

on each thing unAmerican.
Burn our silks. Wipe out baklava.
While you’re at it, ban our Java.
Set up a refreshment jury
to vote on food like Indian curry.

Wienerschnitzel’s got to go.
Ban sushi. Nix gado gado.

Chocolate should be exorcised.
Ban music that’s unauthorized.
Raga, salsa and jungle beat
are rhythms we should not repeat.
America for Americans
is how we have arranged our plans.
Blood tests mandatory for sure
to make sure our blood is pure.
Send all the dark skins we have banned
to places not so tightly planned:

Prince Edward Island or Mexico
are places they’ll be forced to go—
places less pristine and picky
content to take folks slightly icky,
not perfect folks like you and me,
immaculate in our ancestry.
With endearing little habits, peculiar little ways,
we’ll wile away our hours and wile away our days
waiting for those foreign folks on whom we need to pounce,
doling out our safety by the pound, not by the ounce.

Picking fights with neighbors, casting insults at Korea,
twittering and ranting in a verbal diarrhea.
As it is above, so has it become below—
Trying to regress from what was once the status quo.
Truth becoming what we make it, in spite of evidence—
reinventing science by divine providence
Though we cannot lock out hurricanes or fires caused  by our blindness,
we have power to lock out sanity, ecology and kindness.
We’ll check our country’s doorknobs before we go to bed
and insure that all the deadbolts are completely dead.

 

The prompt word today is peculiar.

After the Honeymoon

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After the Honeymoon

The bride’s exhausted. The groom is numb.
I think that they have overcome.

The prompt today is overcome.

Détente and the Wide Wide World of Cats

Kukla, Fran, Ollie and Roo are home after 24 hours at the neuter and spay spa—newly clipped and snipped and seemingly feeling no pain. After three months of life either in the house or in the small walled-off area outside the guest bedroom (and kitten suite) barred but with screen land glass sliders left open door, the vet says it is now okay to release them to their greater environment within my compound walls. They have a new outside sleeping room, but as you can see, are still curious about their old digs as well. Frannie has decided to stay inside with me for now. That’s her tail you see curling around over my screen. They were at first suspicious of their food bowls placed outside, refused to eat, then gave in to hunger and ate, but refused their next meal which was being devoured by ants, so I moved it inside. I let them roam inside and out, then locked them out, now have let them in to sleep and left screen open but closed the door to front garden so their outside area is, as before, secure. Except for bats. Cross your fingers. Below the poem are probably too many photos depicting their first afternoon of freedom, including a bit of dialogue with the dogs.

Détente and the Wide Wide World of Cats

Home from the veterinarian––shot and snipped and sewn,
time to reexamine everything they’ve known.
But now there is a difference. That whole wide outside world
has suddenly been opened up, its wonders all unfurled.
They must examine everything in this big new place.
Unearth all its mysteries and all its dangers face.

What are their dishes doing lined up here outside?
This alfresco dining is something they can’t abide.
All these swaying branches. This long wall to explore.
Who knew that all these wonders lurked behind the door
shutting off their private world in their “maison de chat”
where only their mom entered (and the scorpions and bat.)

Now there’s this new environment to jump on and to bat at
To peek in and to crawl through. To paw at and to pat at.
As they now investigate the outside world around them,
there are so many different things to puzzle and astound them.
That same world that they came from just three short months ago
becomes their playground once again––once more their status quo.

Walls protect them all for now from street dogs and from cars.
Morrie and Diego peek out from behind bars.
Neither cats nor dogs are sure what peace talks there might be
to turn this split menagerie into a family.
But five months old now, time to face that other world without.
Time for them to discover what the real world is about.

(Click on first photo to enlarge all and see captions.)