Category Archives: Poetry

Poems in many categories: Loss, NaPoWriMo

The Confessions of a Halloween Candy Hoarder

The Confessions of a Halloween Candy Hoarder

I do not accept your recent accusal
as anything but an attempt to bamboozle
me out of the vestiges of my collection
of Halloween candy that’s skipped your detection.

I’m thankful that I’m neither trustful nor dumb
enough to be functioning under your thumb,
for I find repugnant your plans to abscond
with all of the candy with which I’ve grown fond.

For though you gobbled your candy down quickly,
going through all of it lickety-splickly,
I like to keep my candy yield near
and eat one piece a day for the rest of the year!

When days are balmy, butterscotch is nice.
I save all my chocolate for snow days and ice.
And when the campfire sparkles and flickers,
I like to devour my Halloween Snickers.

If it annoys you, you’ll have to make do
with a few M&M’s that I hid in my shoe.
The rest of my candy is where I have hidden it,
to be consumed when only I’ve bidden it.

Prompts for the day are vestige, repugnant, bamboozle, balmy and thankful.

Open Reading at the Nueva Posada


Open Reading at the Nueva Posada

They gather at their tables in the heat or in the cold,
ears perked for the errors in the stories they’ll be told.
They’ll be listening for the puerile and and the grisly and the trite,
jotting down their notes for the misstatements that they’ll cite.

Then, their criticism over, they’ll play another game,
giving their approval and voicing their acclaim
for a perfect metaphor or meter that is tight. 
How you built the tension and got it all just right.

Thus do we meet to ebb and flow, to criticize and praise.—
to inform, amuse, maybe to bore or to amaze.
This is how we come together first to teach and then be taught
by sharing with each other the best that we have got!

Prompt words today are cold, table, grisly, puerile and criticism.

Darjeeling, Lockjaw and Delayed Gratification

Darjeeling, Lockjaw and Delayed Gratification

I’d make conversation but my upper plate
seems to be grinding my lower of late.
I fear there’s a fissure that’s preventing their matching
and somehow my back teeth just seem to be catching
and locking which creates a problem in chewing,
so eating’s another thing I won’t be doing.

I’m bungling everything done by my jaws.
At talking and eating I’m taking a pause.
For now I’ll just listen and watch you eat pie.
If you give me a straw, I’ll simply get by
by sipping my tea and nodding my head
in avid agreement with everything said.

I could have stayed home and stared at the wall,
but I couldn’t face not seeing y’all,
so I will just sit here and soak in the news,
forsaking my own chance to thrill and amuse.
Until I’ve seen my dentist, you’ll just have to wait
for the juicy story I was going to relate!

Prompts today are conversation, fissure, matching, bungle and upper.



Grandmother was a lexophile, erudite and bossy.
She said that I was malapert when she meant I was saucy.
She sat astride her horse for she was loath to simply straddle it,
and she “installed her pillion.” She didn’t merely saddle it!

Every sentence that we spoke required mediation.
Nothing was radioactive. It “emitted radiation!”
Cannibals weren’t maneaters, but rather “anthropophages,”
and prom dates brought us sprays of roses, not merely corsages!

Her mania for polite words was nothing less than ludicrous.
When dealing with the birds and bees, “womb” subbed for the word uterus.
Gentlemen had “members,” for their penises were banished—
“boobs” and “knockers” terms for bosoms that somehow had vanished.

It seems she put small value in words that spoke directly,
for it was more important that we chose words correctly.
Dictionaries were her Bibles, and they had the final word
when we used terminology that Grandma found absurd.


Prompt words for the day are straddle, radioactive, ludicrous, contumely and maneater.

Bad Timing: Wordle 522

Bad Timing

It’s not until I hear the thunder
that I recognize my blunder.
All alone. (I ditched my fella).
In the forest, no umbrella.

As I walk, my shoes are gooing.
Up above, the doves are cooing,
but they’re up there under covers
with their nestlings and their lovers.

I’m down here shivering in the rain
with seven miles of rough terrain
in front of me from here to home.
I need a fairy, elf or gnome

to come and work their magic spell
to save me from this drippy Hell.
The rain beats its loud tattoos
upon my head and neck and shoes.

I start to shiver, drip and ooze.
I covet shelter, dryness, booze—
all things that I had of late
before I deigned to ditch my date!

My  leather shoes, high-heeled and small,
are not helping things at all.
I take them off and walk bare-toed
down the rain-slicked country road.

I wish that I had asked how far
home was before I left the car!

Prompt words are doves, elves, walk, tattoo, covet, umbrella, seven, blunder, forest, thunder, leathery, small. Image by Merri on Unsplash.

For: The Sunday Whirl Wordle 522

Charles Ponzi in Hell

Charles Ponzi in Hell

He is a shrouded shyster, an adjunct to the Devil—
a ghostly apparition not remotely on the level.
He peddled false indulgences and cut-rate lots in heaven
on a sliding scale from heaven one right up to seven.

He was as suave as men can get clad in just a sheet,
with no face to speak of, not to mention sans his feet.
And though his sins were constant, every day a new adventure,
thanks to the realm he dwelled in, his pranks came without censure.


Prompt words today are thanks, suave, apparition, adjunct and devil. Image by Erin Minuskin on Unsplash.

Expired Lothario

Expired Lothario

A veritable heart-swoon in those days that he was young,
handsome, dashing, fleet-of-foot and, rumor says, well-hung,
these days when he ogles, it’s sorta through a mist.
It’s been so many years now since he has been kissed.

Just at the point when long ago he might have been gripping,
it seems as though these days it is more likely he’ll be tripping.
Whereas once he wooed at leisure, his romancing days are done.
His smoking pistol hasn’t fired for years. (Pardon the pun.)


Prompt words for today are mist, ogle, gripping, veritable and leisure.




External episodes are thrilling
but may not be half so chilling
as other splendors that reside
within ourselves—so deep inside
that they may be unmapable
because they are not palpable
to anyone except ourselves.
They’re mysteries that science delves
by means of psychotherapy.
They seek the treasures that may be
hidden in us, but so deep
we think they’re secrets that we keep.
It’s where we go in poetry—
exploring places we can’t see
unless we voice them lingually.

Prompt words are splendour, episode, chilling, palpable and external.


Obituary of a Jerk: Wordle 521, Oct 3, 2021


The Obituary of a Jerk

We are loath to depict his despicable face,
for when it came to living, he just used up space.
He first saw to his own comfort all of his life,
never thinking of kids or parents or wife.
No slur to his family was ever avenged.
He had little time as he gorged and he binged.

One never knew if he could or he couldn’t.
Maybe he would or maybe he wouldn’t
get places on time, even given a ticket—
advance plans “a bit of the old sticky wicket.”
A fact all his family found a bit lame,
for he wasn’t British—in lineage or name.

And no matter how crammed the sofa might get,
he’d never stand when he found he could sit.
He’d say “Pull up a chair,” and when you had done it,
he’d use it himself–just plop his buns on it!
And although you may think that’s as bad as it gets,
don’t make any wagers. Don’t take any bets.

I’ve got so many stories depicting his greed
that you’d have to stay here for hours to read
the tales of his excesses, selfishness, binging.
They’re unbelievable–really unhinging.
He frittered away his kids’ college savings
on fishing trips, camping and personal cravings.

Their summer earnings bought his new car,
then he spent all the rest for rounds at the bar.
So  when it comes to expressing our grief,
you’ll find all his eulogies startlingly brief.
He was born and he prospered, then sickened and perished
unmourned and ungrieved-for, unloved and uncherished.


For the Sunday Whirl Wordle 521 the prompt words were avenge, lame, sit, ticket, cram, here, gets, pulls, maybe, used, space, comfort

Mr. Know and Do-It-All

Mr. Know and Do-It-All

When it comes to puzzles, I solve every one.
It’s just a small part of my regular fun.
I can do cryptic, obscure if you wish.
Give me a recipe, I’ll cook the dish.
My stew is nutritious, delicious and stirrable
No job you give will I find insuperable.

Difficult tasks are why I exist.
Tell an obscure joke. I’ll discover the gist.
Problems excite me. Mysteries make me shiver.
I’m the proverbial solution giver.
What is impossible pushes my button.
Give me a live sheep and I’ll give you mutton.

Since I’ve gotten older, I’ve barely slowed down.
My feats are historic all over this town.
I am the one that unlocks keyless doors.
I’ve driven off bandits and outbored known bores.
Once you push my button, I’ll go ’til I’m done.
for I’m the proverbial “call upon” one!

Prompt words are cryptic, historic, shiver, insuperable and button.