Category Archives: Silly poems

Dagwood

473fef2d0018fdef47b61a3b0c92686f--dagwood-sandwich-dinner-recipesphoto from Pinterest

Dagwood

After my pizza and after my knish
I have just one more edible wish.
I’m building its fantasy here in my mind:
a spectacular sandwich of a unique kind.

A little pastrami, baked beans and some cheese,
pickles and mustard and if you please
some mayonnaise lightly spread over the bread.
(Miracle Whip?  I’d rather be dead!)

Some avo and onions sliced thin would be nice,
and if you have it, a green pepper slice.
Some olives and beets would add a good zing,
and then I’d like one more additional thing.

Some chips to add crunch––put them right there inside.
(Only a ninny would place them outside.)
Then slice it diagonally if you will,
with a pickle beside it––a big kosher dill.

Then you can leave, please, so I can I start
greedily ripping that sandwich apart.
For though I needed help, perhaps, in its construction,
I need no further guidance in its destruction

Prompt words today are sandwich, fantasy, ninny, vanquish and guidance.

Piscine Phobia


Piscine Phobia

I don’t eat salmon, don’t eat flounder.
I prefer my protein rounder—
chicken, roasts or food like that.
Fish is too fishy and too flat.

Tuna mixed with soup and noodle,
I despise kit and caboodle!
Nothing could persuade me that
I should eat food fit for a cat.

I won’t eat food grown in a swamp,
so crabs and clams I never chomp.

No protein caught by motor boat
will ever pass my teeth and throat.

When dinner parties serve up chowder,
I’m likely to just take a powder.
I simply can’t take the suspense
of what fish lurks in soup so dense.

So if you want to plan a treat
that I will find the nerve to eat,
once again, I must repeat,
forget the lobster. Give me meat!!

Words for today are flounder, suspense, nothing, swamped and motor.

Lazy Feet

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Lazy Feet

Crossing the room or traversing the plain,
one foot goes in front of the other again.
It is the business of shoe after shoe
to follow each other through sand, dirt or goo.

They have easy going through fields filled with clover,
but when they meet something they have to climb over,
their task is much harder. No reflecting or browsing,
for climbing up hills is ten times more rousing.

They  pump up the blood, these mountains and ramps.
They irritate arches and instigate cramps.
They cause blisters, pulled muscles, and wear a girl out.
That’s why I don’t often saunter about.

You won’t often find me walking out there
with the wind to my back and stirring my hair.
For although there’s less scenery, I do not care.
I prefer bed or hammock or chair.

Prompt words today are something, browse, revenge, traverse and business.

When the World Turns Upside Down

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When the World Turns Upside Down

When the world turns upside down, I’ll have to stand on air.
My heels will be over my knees, my knees over my hair.
Will the water stay in place or just come tumbling down
to fill up where the sky is now—where formerly was town?
Will gravity act just the same or will it pull us up?
How will it work when Grandpa tries to fill his coffee cup?
Will balls bounce up or down and will skiers ski uphill?
How will grandma’s old gray cat stay on the windowsill?
May I suggest the world stay just as it is instead?
It’s just too complicated standing on your head!

For: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/03/10/photo-challenge-306/

Eleventh Hour

Eleventh Hour

It’s true the groom was old and gray,
a cane or walker his mainstay,
and the one he called his child bride
was just as tall as she was wide.

Her bathing schedule so erratic,
she was rather aromatic,
but since he’d lost his sense of smell,
they were suited very well.

If they had cause to take a journey,
he’d simply push her in a gurney
in lieu of walker. It worked well.
Her needs and his were seen to gel.

Centuries later, folks will recall
the evening of their wedding ball.
The dance they chose was rock and roll—
as practical as it was droll.

He rocked, she rolled, then one dance done,
he wheeled her off to have some fun.
For the groom, so aged and furry
was nonetheless in a great hurry

to address their wedding bed.
Fearing that he’d soon be dead,
he rolled his roly poly mate
out of the ballroom, through the gate,

down the hall and  to their room,
an act, I fear, that sealed his doom,
for once his ardor was diminished,
alas, the groom’s long life was finished.

But in the end? A bit of magic,
for the ending was not tragic.
Nine months later his game was won
when posthumously, he had a son!!!

Prompt words are aromatic, century, journey, mainstay and wide

On the Subject of Cracking Knuckles

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On the Subject of Cracking Knuckles

Please don’t snap your bones at me. 
I cringe, I plug my ears, I plea.
If you must make noise with body parts,
please stick to  burping, coughs or farts.
Since popping sounds tend to astound me,
Do not crack knuckles when around me!

 

 

I do not like that brittle sound,
so please don’t crack your bones around!

For the dVerse Poets prompt “crack.” For Quadrille Monday.

Escape from the Day Spa

 

Photo by Adrian Motroc on Unsplash, used with permission

Escape from the Day Spa

Our hair is neatly coiffed and our fingernails are lacquered,
but they’ve been at us for hours and, frankly, I am knackered.
They’ve elevated eyebrows and plucked chin hairs at random.
Two people worked an hour, massaging me in tandem.

This day trip to the beauty spa once seemed a good idea,
but I’ve found it as annoying as a junket to Ikea.
Everything goes on and on. There simply is too much.
First there’s this and this and this and then there’s such and such.

And though it’s meant to calm me, I find I’m feeling goaded.
When it comes to things and services, I’m simply overloaded.
“I know” I tell my friend, “I should be finding it relaxing,
but I feel the opposite. I find the process taxing!”

I need to steer us out of here before she finds another
way for them to soak us or to pluck or curl or smother.
Before this spa day started, she’d assured me it was fun,
but now its time for me to declare that it is done!!!

I need a gin and tonic and perhaps a wild dance
to loosen all the hairpins and give my hair a chance
to escape the close confinement of gel and goop and spray.
I’m tense with relaxation. I need wildness in my day!

Give me a seedy roadhouse and some honky tonk guitar.
Some cowboys with their cowboy boots propped up against the bar.
Some line dances and two-steps to work up a little sweat,
and I’ll be about as relaxed as I’m ever going to get.

IMG_1017jdb photo of the Mint Bar, Sheridan, Wyoming

It

Prompt words today are trip, knackered, random, elevate and steer.