Tag Archives: humorous poem

The Heel

The Heel

Rumors are abroad that you don’t know how to act.
You like to dig the needle in and haven’t any tact.
If you don’t reverse your ways and learn to get along—
if you stubbornly refuse to right your recent wrong—
I won’t be held responsible for trying once again
to cover up your misdeeds and atone for your sin.
For once you’ll have to face up to your social gaffes—
your misogynistic humor and  inappropriate laughs.
When you’re lying bruised and bloody, helpless on the floor,
you’ll finally discover what high heels are really for!!!


Prompt words today wre needle, reverse, abroad and act. Here are links:

Toilet Paper Blues (and Greens and Yellows)


Toilet Paper Blues (and Greens and Yellows)

Once paper for the toilet came in every hue—
green or blue or yellow to wipe away our poo.
And though we all liked paper that was soft and squeezable,
most people felt that color wasn’t very feasible.

Hue was always optional, for you could still find white,
which had the best capacity for capturing the light.
Of all the other choices, white was still the best
to help you find the toilet on your midnight quest.

Now in the tissue aisle, no color meets our sight.
Green and blue and yellow seem to have taken flight.
We use our toilet paper for what it’s created for
without the added problem of matching our decor.

My poem isn’t delicate, it mentions words like poo.
I hope this does not put off such proper folks as you.
You will perhaps forgive me for my word choice this one time,

for feces’s not poetic and caca doesn’t rhyme!

Prompt words for the day are color, optional, squeezable and quest.


The Perils of Memory Lane

The Perils of Memory Lane

I’m taking a vacation with my mother and my aunts.
On their sentimental journey, we’ll visit their old haunts.
I’m afraid I have my worries, but I’m hoping all goes well,
and I’m trying my hardest my anxieties to quell.
Our travel plans will take us from the east coast to the plain
of wild South Dakota, and then back home again.

We’re going in September to see the lovely sight
of brilliant autumn colors falling from great height.
Then their favorite Japanese garden will include a bonsai florist

and an attraction of their youth: the Badlands Petrified Forest.
First will be Connecticut to see the falling leaves.
They’ll rain down on our bodies: shoulders, faces, sleeves.

The tiny bonsai gardens will not pose a threat.
When leaflets fall upon my feet, I will not fuss or fret.
Of these stops on our journey, I am not scared at all,
but I worry what will happen this year in the fall
when we tour the petrified forest. Will its trees begin to shed
leaves turned to stones and pebbles that will fall upon my head?

The prompt words today are leaflet, petrified, sentiment and hope.


Confusing Near Homonyms

Confusing Near Homonyms

A meddlesome fellow is one who is bound
to mess in our business and boss us around,
while a mettlesome person is lively and gritty,
spirited, vigorous, gallant and witty.

They may be fine athletes, actors, or explorers,
but meddlesome people just tend to be borers.
Mettlesome’s interesting. Meddlesome? Deploring.
With one we’re enraptured. With the other, just snoring.

Why would a person who thinks up a word
Make opposites sound similar? It is absurd.
Mettlesome people turn out to be heroes.
They score a full ten to meddlesome’s zeroes.

Most mettlesome people please and amuse us,
but meddlesome people, by contrast, abuse us.
Considering this, our confusions suffuse us.
Was  the word mettlesome coined to confuse us?


mettlesome: full of vigor and stamina; lively, gritty, spirited, gallant
meddlesome: interferingmeddlingintrusivepryinginquisitiveofficious.

The prompt word today is mettlesome.


Southern Discomfort

Southern Discomfort

A barrage of dainty words like “Bless her heart!” and “Y’all.”
greeted me as I approached the entrance to the ball.
As I turned this and that way to fit me through the door,
it was then that I regretted the hoop skirt that I wore.
Finally giving it a yank and then one great yank more,
I fear I heard a ripping sound as something in there tore.

I grabbed a small mint julep from the tray that passed me by,
but waved away the country ham, eschewed the pecan pie,
for the merry widow that I was squeezed  into
already had me short of breath and slowly turning blue.
A few spins around the dance floor with something in my shoe,
convinced me that my southern ball experience was through.

We exited the ballroom, motored out of the plantation,
and in the backseat I surrendered to severe temptation.
Like those giant pythons that shed their skins in zoos,
I peeled off my merry widow and my ball gown and my shoes.
My hoop skirt parachuting out the window brought a smile
as I disposed of finery mile after mile.

As we drew up to the levee and approached the shrimping docks,
I drew on my old Levis and a t-shirt and my Crocs.
By then my southern gentlemen was through with me, I fear.
He was driving rather fast and grinding every gear.
So it won’t be any news to you that our romance was through.
“Southern” is just something that this northern girl can’t do.



Prompt words used in this post were news, dainty and barrage. Photo is stock footage from “Gone with the Wind.”


Life in the Abstract


Life in the Abstract

. . .  has more temptations,
fewer rules and more vacations.
Responsibility’s not a goal.
It has more texture, has more soul.
Life, as imagined, has more shiver.
More tiramisu and less liver.
More giggling and foolishness.
Less lecturing and mulishness.
Oh, that life could be less literal.
More exciting and more clitoral!

The prompt words today are abstract, responsibility, goal and temptation.


Family Christmas: Reporting the Action


This is my brother-in-law Jim being silly for illustrative purposes only. jdbphoto

Family Christmas: Reporting the Action

We’re resplendent with family dripping like jewels—
gaudy ones, nosy ones, darlings and fools.
They group ’round the Christmas tree, collect in groups.
Grandpa stands proudly while Uncle Al stoops.
The aunties are formidable with demands:
a nip for their toddy, while meanwhile their hands
examine the silver, the linen and lace,
draw dust trails with fingers and make a shocked face.

Why do we anticipate this all year long?
When families gather, it’s bound to go wrong.
And yet it goes on countless year after year.
We call each one “sweetheart” or “darling’ or “dear.”
We carve up the turkey, deliver the blessing,
serve up the cranberries, yams and the dressing.
We nod our heads “yes” and agree with the prattling,
try to avoid unavoidable battling.

They open our presents and do not dare spurn them,
yet we know in our minds that they’ll surely return them.
The children are running and fussing and fighting,
the parents regretting that they’re overnighting.
Your sister’s dog likes to beat up on yours.
He lies on his back, pinned down with all fours.
Meanwhile you give thanks for all you are worth
that tomorrow, again, there will be “Peace on Earth.”


The prompt words today are resplendent, formidable, anticipate and family.