Category Archives: Poetry

Poems in many categories: Loss, NaPoWriMo

Isosceles

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Isosceles

A silly argument at best,
and yet it would not come to rest.
They simply could not seem to cease
their debate on “isosceles.”
They could not bring to a fruition
discussion on its definition.

He said the answer had to be
that the triangle had three
even sides, while she said two,
and they wondered what to do
to resolve their worrisome plight
and  determine who was right.

In every other prior fight,
there was a book to set them right,
yet while spring cleaning, they’d packed up
every book and dish and cup
to maintain their purity
with absolute surety.

But both of them thought it was ruthless
to remain unschooled and truthless
on this subject math-related
they so hotly had debated.
So in the end, they thought they must
unpack the boxes and chance the dust.

They placed the boxes around the border
in some semblance of neat order,
opening one, then two and three
to try to solve the mystery,
kneeling there on bended knee
to try to find some verity.

When finally they found the truth,
to be two sides, ’twas sad, foresooth,
that in the end, they found the fight
still had not been set to right,
for neither would admit to be
the one who had insisted three!

Prompt words today are wonder, prior, cleaning, semblance, isosceles, argument and purity.

Why I Can’t Do The Prompts Today

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Why I Can’t Do The Prompts Today

I think I’ll be a morning grouch
and spend these hours on the couch
making lists of things for doing—
certain things that involve gluing,
cleaning, sorting, chopping, timing—
things that do not involve rhyming.

A sea of things I’ve been concealing,
chores that stack up to the ceiling,
divert me from acts of creation
with chores of limitless cessation.
Hobbies I’d rather pursue
put off by what I’ve gotta do.

Pay my house fees, cook the stew,
trim the bushes, find the glue
to fix the statue, sort my purse,
clean out the junk drawer, then rehearse
my poems for next Friday’s reading.
Fix my blouse. Restore its beading.

Answer emails, call the plumber.
Modern life is such a bummer.
Sometimes I think I exist
solely to check off a list.
At any rate, as I have ranted,
other parts of me recanted.

It seems I’m such a winsome elf
that this poem just wrote itself!!!!!!

Prompts today are winsome, sea, certain, list, grouch, hobby and concealing.

Failed Reformation

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Failed Reformation

In between sit-ups and stretches,
hubby moans and groans and kvetches.
For him there is no correlation
between fitness and elation.
Each new feasible solution
resulting in his diminution

though undefined, I think just might
bring about my spouse’s flight
to avoid any surprises
involving his exercises.
What he should look like and should weigh
bring disagreements every day,

for though I want him lean and svelte,
if you asked him what he felt,
he’d say a form more soft and paunchy
suits a man who is more raunchy.
While I tout vegetables and soys,
he wants to be one of the boys.

Hamburgers and fries and shakes,
baked potatoes and rib eye steaks
are the menus he prefers,
so when we order, it’s “his and hers.”
Chef salad is what I will choose.
His order? Pork chops, pie and booze!

Prompts today are flight, disagreement, stretches, feasible, undefined and correlation. Photo by ehimetalor akhere unuabona on Unsplash.

August Buffet

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August Buffet

Although we came for the buffet,
what harm is there if we delay?
That pile of leaves looks so inviting.
The kid in me it is inciting.

Piled up so deep and dense and crunchy,
even though I’m feeling lunchy,
still I have a need more urgent,
childish thoughts now more resurgent.

All of spring’s precipitation
prompted lush leaves and the inception
of my hopes for autumn joys
shared by kids—both girls and boys

in festering imaginations
for these countless generations.
And so, we take a giant leap
to dive into the glorious heap,

Rolling in their crisp and crunch,
forestalling  our urgency to munch.
Then, brushing off our fronts and backs,
we go inside for drinks and snacks.

2015

 

 


Prompts today are crunchy, look, buffet, August, spring and precipitation. Image of  leaves by Patrick Connor and buffet by Markus Winkler, both @Unsplash and image of me by Forgottenman. Other images by me.

The Embarkation of Miss Emily

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The Embarkation of Miss Emily

He strolled into her module acting all hale and hearty,
issuing an invitation to his birthday party.
He was throwing a big shindig like those raves of yore—
the kind where she was sure she’d be perceived as quite a bore.

They’d sail out to an island on a rented yacht.
A bikini would be clothes enough. The weather would be hot!
She’d have to take a day off work. There’d be no compensation,
but this was not the reason for her main hesitation.

She did not feel affronted. She felt no perturbation.
Rather, she debated her own qualification.
She was no party animal, nor had she ever been.
Her parents both regarded such revelry as sin.

She had no experience with pot, cocaine or gin
and even less experience when it came to men!
So her positive response, though wary, was wholehearted.
if she was going to be wild, ’twas high time she got started!

 

Prompt words are hale, affront, qualification, module, yore and compensation.

Gossip Girls

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Gossip Girls

Those mean girl rumors may seem unrelenting,
but trust me their spreaders will soon be repenting.
Only fools spread secrets they know are untrue,
spreading rumors,I’m sure, that later they’ll rue.

Their bony butts should be soundly spanked,
their cheeks should be pinched and their hair should be yanked
for crossing the line between rumor and truth,
for the lies that they’ve spread are completely uncouth.

Give them no haven and give them no ear.
Mouths work no mischief when there’s no one to hear.
Do not contribute to mere hearsay that’s
better off kept in their heads under hats.

They may seem exotic, but don’t seek them out,
or chances are that the next gossip they flout
might be about you, for although you’re tempted
to listen to them, no one is exempted

from being the next victim of a forked tongue,
so your story might be the next sad song sung.

For the Sunday Whirl, Wordle 566 the prompt words are: fool unrelenting cross bony secrets haven chance exotic  seek mean rumors

Ode to the Las Vegas Buffet

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Ode to the Las Vegas Buffet

After some poker and roulette and craps,
we return to our rooms for some well-deserved naps.
The gambler in me has been curbed at a cost.
One poker chip memento, and the rest has been lost.

As I sink into bed, worries float away,
heavenward-bound as I doze in the hay.
Tomorrow’s buffet—that iconic repast
will insure our regrets over losses won’t last.

We’ll pile our plates, then come back for more
until we pop out of the clothes that we wore.
We’ll recoup our losses, for the assets we left
we’ll take home again in our bodily heft!

 

Prompt words today are float, gambler, memento, repast, heavenward and iconic. Images by Aidan Howe and Kenny Eliason

The Real Dirt, for dVerse Poets

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The Real Dirt

Dirt has had, since its inception,
an unfair place in our conception—
a thing for us to rail against
and throw the laundry pail against.

Dirty thoughts are seen as rude,
and yet dirt grows our daily food.
Without it, we would flail and totter.
Impossible to walk on water!

 

Just had to repost this poem from four years ago for the dVerse Poets prompt.  You can find it here:  dVerse Poets
To read other poems on this topic, go HERE.

Dietary Doldrums

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Dietary Doldrums

Her eating habits, luckily, were found to be most corrigible,
for her personality was found to still be porridgeable.
Oatmeal formed her breakfast and salads formed her lunch
as she foresook the bad foods on which she used to munch.

Buttery popcorn banished as an unhealthy mistake,
she snacked instead on kale chips for her figure’s sake.
Rare steak was  soon banished, for she relished it no more
once she foresook flesh meats, shuddering at their gore.

Her electric grinder ground chickpeas up instead
and this was the protein upon which she fed.
Healthy ever after once her war with food was won,
meals sugarless and greaseless, alas, were not much fun.

 

\Prompt words today are buttery, personality, gore, corrigible, Steak and electric. Image by Deryn Macey on Unsplash. 

Strappy Stilettos

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Strappy Stilettos

I languish in these pointy shoes with their flimsy straps.
My ankles teeter with their height, I poke out through their gaps.
I don’t appreciate the fact that they’re the current style.
You try walking in such shoes mile after mile!

The material that forms them is so sparing and so meager
that I’ll be darned if I can figure out why gals are eager
to teeter down the street in them or wear them out to dance.
Trying to walk on shoes like this is taking quite a chance!

The truth lies in the fact that shoes like this must be the fashion
of men for whom the look of things is their only passion.
Safety and walkability cannot be their goal,
for feet were not created to balance on a pole

held in by straps that mean the heels can slide from side to side,
prompting a proclivity to stumble and to slide.
Mr. Choo and Ferragamo, if they ever tried to wear them
might have found their shoes inclined to torture and to scare them.

There should be a special Hell made for designers who maintain
that for the sake of passion one must succumb to the pain
of shoes that are a torture. They should have to walk a mile in them
and while they are in agony, be forced to feign a smile in them!!!!

 

Prompt words today are: pointy shoes, languish, lie, meager, appreciate and flimsy. Image by Femme Spirit @Unsplash.