Tag Archives: humorous poem

Which Way? (D.P.S.*)



D.P.S.*

Please click on first photo below to enlarge all the photos and read the poem that is presented as their captions.

*Duck Positioning System

https://sonofabeach96.com/2018/11/08/which-way-challenge-november-8-2018/

Our Newest Emperor’s New Clothes

Our Newest Emperor’s New Clothes

How do we mentor our burgeoning youth
in these times of extraordinary stretchings of truth?
Teach them to sort out these rash acts of treason,
to approach them with heart and strain them through reason.
Teach them hating is wrong and exclusion is selfish—
that plastic’s destroying our coral and shellfish.

That medical care should be something for all
and that hoarding of wealth brings a country’s last fall.

Teach them the future is theirs to decide.
Teach them the truth of whom to deride.
Teach them that facts being taught by their teachers
may rival what they’re being taught by some preachers
and those who would rule to win their own gain,
lining their pockets again and again
with tax cuts that only extend to the rich
while the trickle down theory develops a hitch.

Teach them to sort out rhetoric from fact.
Teach them to care and to vote and to act
to stretch out the privilege to blanket us all.
We are not alone on this spinning great ball.
Our former meddling and incredible gall
is why we’re considering building a wall
to keep out the hungry and frightened downtrodden
who come to us weary, exhausted and sodden.

They ask for asylum and our protection
from dictators who have prompted defection
much as many Americans are fleeing south
to avoid the stupidity and the vile mouth
of the dictator who is now ruining our land
with illogical thinking and truth that is canned.
Who will mentor whom in this crazy new world
once the last hateful invectives are hurled?


Our world has been sold out for profit and gain—

overseen by leaders opportunistic and vain.
Perhaps it’s our youth who will now mentor us
to sort out the truth from this internet fuss.
As in the old legend, They’ll teach the uncouth

to forsake propaganda for naked truth.
It’s hoped that our youth wake us up from our doze
to point out the truth of our Emperor’s new clothes!!

 

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/rdp-sunday-mentor/
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/04/fowc-with-fandango-extraordinary/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/04/burgeon/

Advice on Answering the Doorbell of that Translucent Front Door.

Advice on Answering the Doorbell of that Translucent Front Door

Although  you sorta see through it,
you can’t see who they be through it.
So if you fear it is that bore, it
might be better to ignore it.

The prompt is to write a 29 word poem on the subject of translucent.
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/11/03/weekend-writing-prompt-79-translucent/

The Letter “C”

The Letter “C”

Here’s to the letter “C” that marks what is in the middle.
Somewhere between “A” and “F,” it has been known to fiddle.
While “A” studies most diligently, “C” is bound to shirk.
It has a certain phobia regarding too much work.
It’s head and shoulders above “F” and far better than “D.”
Nobody ever flunked a course by maintaining a “C.”

And yet it calls no sound its own. It’s either “K” or “S.”
At birthday time,  we’re given kake and winning brings suksess.
We’re stopped dead in our trases. When we’re kissed, it’s a karess.
Why “C” has no sound of its own, not one of us kan guess.
When the sirkus komes to town, it’s happened onse or twise
that the krokodiles eskape. It isn’t very nise.

Townfolks run and skurry—skared as they kan be,
for katastrophes kan happen when krokodiles run free.
It isn’t too konvenient, as you kan klearly see
to be a kurly letter the likes of letter “C”
that’s firmly in the middle, with no sound of its own.
Does “C” dream of being “S” when it’s fully grown?

For “The Letter C” prompt by Daily Inkling.

On the Wagon (A Halloween Curse)

Matt is turning Halloween on us, demanding that we imagine being turned into a vampire for the month of October for the rest of our lives.  I just wrote a vampire poem for another prompt, Matt, but oh well, here I go again!!!

On the Wagon
(A Halloween Curse)

I’m facing a whole month of sober
now that it’s almost October.
Passing up my gin and tonic
for a drink more histrionic.

Need I say I merely ask
liquid refreshment from a flask?
All said and done, I much prefer
to drink from glass and not from her.

I find this other way of curbing
my addictive thirst disturbing.
All that blood that sucking draws
is neater when it’s done through straws.

Alas, I find this vampire curse
most distressing. Nothing worse
could be my fate except perhaps
karma so far kept under wraps.

An Easter curse would be the dregs—

to spend all April sucking eggs!

For Matt’s Vampire Prompt.

Morning Blues Saga

DSC08356Morning Blues 

Another day is dawning. The birds are full of tweet.
So I decide to take a little stroll out on the street.
I have no need for makeup. I prefer my features bare.
I choose my clothes most carefully, but do not brush my hair.
With my new haircut, tousled’s in. I’m told to leave it there.
“Just run your fingers though your mop as though you do not care!”
The trees are bursting verdant, dry grass the hue of wheat.
Smiles stretch across the face of every man I meet.
I find their moods infectious, so I smile back at them.
I’m sporting a new haircut, so I feel very femme.

Corner after corner I round to see what’s there.
I straighten out my collar and toss my brand new hair
as I stroll by the house the new guy’s living in.
I check my watch and see it’s only eight-oh-ten.
Perhaps he’s a late riser, so I walk right on by.
If he had been in evidence, I might have murmured, “Hi!”
and maybe he’d have talked to me and asked me for a date.
Perhaps I’m not too early. Perhaps I am too late!
One day I’m sure I’ll meet him, but I am wondering when.
It’s not that I’m accustomed to running after men,

but it’s especially pretty, this block where I’ve just been.
I turn around so I can stroll through it once again.
The second time I pass his door, I see it opening.
As he comes out my spirits soar. My heart begins to ping.
I know this is the man for me. He’s pleasant, handsome, tall.
I’d go and introduce myself if only I’d the gall.
When his eyes light on my face, he smiles like all the rest.
Of all the smiles I’ve seen today, this smile is the best.
I croon hello and smile back and yes, I flirt a bit—
his grin so wide I know that I must have scored a hit.

I pass on by but I am sure we’ll meet another day,
and judging by his smile, he’ll have much more to say.
As I retrace my steps again, I’m feeling very pert.
Perhaps I’ll lose a few more pounds.  It surely wouldn’t hurt.
I climb the hill to my house and open up the door.
The perking of the coffee pot drowns out my roommate’s snore.
I pour a cup and take it back to work upon my blog,
and all this time my roomie is sleeping like a log.
An hour passes, she awakes and stumbles by my door.
Until she has her first cup, she’s grouchy to the core.

Five minutes pass and she comes in and plops into a chair,
her grin so wide, I wonder if she’s going to diss my hair.
“I took a walk,” I tell her, and her eyes go really wide.
“Like that?” she said, “You mean that you have really been outside?”
“My hair’s supposed to look this way. The natural look is in!”
I said to her most huffily, my patience wearing thin.
“I finally saw the new guy, and he’s really cute.”
I told her, and I saw her look, because I’m so astute.
“What,” I asked her, “is your problem? Don’t you like my hair?”
I met her answering guffaw with an angry glare.

“Your hair is not your problem,” she said and grabbed my hand,
pushing me into her room, where she made me stand
before a full length mirror, where finally I could see
perhaps why all my neighbors had deigned to smile at me.
For my whole face was covered with last night’s facial goo—
dried upon my face to form a vivid shade of blue!
Not quite the statement I had hoped to make that fateful day,
and since that time I fear my confidence began to fray.
I’ve given up long walks for neighborhoods much nearer,
and I never leave my house without checking out the mirror!

So many prompts, so little time and Forgottenman has informed me that we have to leave in less than an hour to avoid the Friday rush at Walmart, so I’m going to persuade myself that it’s okay to publish this poem written over two and a half years ago. It is about soaring and sinking spirits and perhaps you have already forgotten it, as I had. I hope you enjoyed it, be it the first or second time you’ve read  it.

https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/10/21/daily-addictions-2018-week-42/soar

Dressing for Attention

pc310039

Dressing For Attention

Purple pedal pushers and a yellow skirt.
For a hat, a fascinator, and a tartan shirt.
A fur stole that’s a relic of another age—
when they didn’t raise them in a tiny cage.

Platform shoes to raise me up in elevation
so the band will see me during their ovation.
Great big shades to block the sunlight from my eyes
and so my date can’t see me flirting with the guys.

Bright pink polish on my nails and rhinestones on my lashes.
A girl has got to dress up right for these special bashes.
I will match the music—loud and brash and brassy.
   Bands don’t notice groupies whose style is too classy!

 

Daily Inkling asks what sort of an outfit we’d wear to a concert.  Oh oh!!!!