Category Archives: Poetry

Poems in many categories: Loss, NaPoWriMo

Well-Spoken


Well-Spoken

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.

Within

]

Within

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.

Beholding Beauty

Beholding Beauty

You are the Burmese cat, stepping high
over the small sculptures
on the wall where he is fed,
his tail curving into a delicate hook.

You are vibrating leaves on the hibiscus tree
adding the contrast of green
to the one exquisite yellow bloom
with its fuchsia sunset middle.

You are a child whose violet eyes
open wider to each wonder––innocent,
never knowing yourself to be more beautiful
than what you observe.

You are music, harmonious, played
on the spur-of-the-moment with no rehearsal,
fingerpaints on the wall in an incredibly wild pattern
that could not have been planned.

You are the gourmet meal
made of leftovers from the fridge,
the wonderful costume gathered
from hangers at the thrift store.

You have a beauty
you were not born to––
one that is an amalgam
of every choice you make in life.

Beauty is in the eye
of the beholder, many say,
but it is impossible to imagine
a beholder who couldn’t see it in you.

 

For dVerse Poets Open Link Night.

Genetics and the Lack of True Grit


Genetics and the Lack of True Grit

Documentation passed down from the past
says that since time primordial, folks have been cast
from the genes of their ancestors, first unto last.
Thus, my nose is too long and my forehead is vast.
It’s a truth of genetics that leaves me aghast!
(Yes, I’d alter those features if only I dast,)

 

Prompt words for today are forehead, genetic, primordial, document and vast,
 Image by Milada Vigerova on Unsplash.

Words

Words

By their adjustment,
I change their drift,
but when I alter their lilt,
I am as transformed by them
as they are by me.

I am inebriated by words.
I reel in their power

as they call my bluff.

They reflect the changes in me
I would otherwise not know.
I can float in their buoyant comfort
or shoot the rapids of emotion.

Words are my river and my raft,
my cushion and that daredevil conveyance
into a new stream of thought

from which I never return
to the exact same world
I left from.

 

Prompt words today are bluff, inebriated, adjustment, lilt and shoot. Photo of the Current River in the Ozarks by jdb.