Tag Archives: poems with bad puns

Burning Books: For What Do You See #180

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Burning Books

Harry Potter tied to the stake,
the “Holier than Thou” ones light the pyre, stringing marshmallows
on limbs snapped from the burning bush
shortly before its point of ignition.

They toss The Handmaid onto the pile
and the flames lick up high enough
To Kill a Mockingbird on an overhanging limb.

Hidden deep in the woods,
in the shadows Where the Wild Things Are,
 The ghost of Ray Bradbury views the flames,
guesses their temperature at Fahrenheit 451.

The Holy Ones brave The Power and the Glory of the flames
to squeeze the molten marshmallows
from their sticks onto Hershey-Bar layered
(ironically named) Graham crackers.

They swat at The Lord of the Flies
risen from the flames
to rest upon each gooey mess
created by the heat from all the ignited words.

Long after 1984,
still ignorant of its warnings,
they lift their arms heavenward
in thanks for the holy communion
they are about to partake in.

And thus,
Their Eyes Were Watching God
even as they  overlooked
the coincidence of its immolation.

 

For Sadje’s What Do You See prompt.

 

Pro or Con?

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Pro or Con?

Sternutation means to sneeze—
(to create a noisy breeze)
but no one knows what perturbation
might be set off by a  sternation.
Could it be the sternum’s action
when it raises in reaction
caused by the excessive sneezing,
coughing, sputtering and wheezing
brought on by the summer gusts
that stir up pollen, raise up dust?

At the height of of last year’s forum
where we barely drew a quorum,
we discussed the summer pollen
that had lately daily fallen.
Prodigals returning home
bemoaned the flower bits and loam
raised into the gusty air
that stripped the flowers and pathways bare.

It’s true folks stare when you are sneezing,
but perhaps you find this pleasing.
If raised sternums cause sternation,
causing your lungs full dilation,
perhaps it is good for you
to rid your lungs of dust and goo.
So tell me, when you’re on vacation,
Are you pro or consternation?

Prompt words today are forum, height, stare, prodigal, summer and consternation.

A Suitable Ending

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A Suitable Ending

He made a wild adventure out of every act
as his imagination embellished every fact.
No detail insignificant in his lackluster life,
his tall tales irked his children and perplexed his wife.
Each plash became a tidal wave. Trips to the zoo were germinal—
fomenting tales of tigers on safaris nearly terminal.
His day would come, they warned him, but he was a stubborn bloke.
He thrived on spinning yarns  and on concocting his next joke.
They always said they’d do him in—those wild tales he spun.
And in the end, his kin were right. He choked on a bad pun.

Prompts today are tiger, insignificant, perplex, plash and terminal.

Nose Job

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Nose Job
The precipitant of my angst is this macro of my nose.
I didn’t vie for this when my friend asked me to pose.
I thought she’d use my profile in a locket or some token,
not knowing that she’d use it for purposes unspoken.
If she had told me earlier what the shot was for,
I would not have been compliant. I’d have shown her to the door.
It’s true my nose is cone-shaped, but no one has ever rated it,
disparaged it or laughed at it or scoffed at or debated it.
So, her dad’s a plastic surgeon and what did he use it for?
Someone else the “after,” and my nose the “before!!!”
Yesterday a letter came–inside two hundred bucks
for my rights to the photo from the clinic mucky-mucks.
I’ve discovered I’m no beauty, and yet I’m charmed in life.
I just got a “nose job” without suffering the knife!!

 

Today’s prompt words are macro, profile, precipitant, cone and unspoken.

Oversight

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PA260088 - Version 2
Oversight

There’s more in life that you can view
than what folks say and what folks do.
Deeper meanings hang in the air.
You can always see them, they’re always there.
More to be learned from what’s not said—
more to the meal than what we’re fed.

I note expressions, nuance, glances.
I’m an early spotter of romances
that others seem oblivious to.
A quick expression can be a clue,
a tone of voice a giveaway
of what a person means to say.

Those who see farther can be a bore.
Always looking and seeing more
than what folks would have them see,
noting life’s disparity
between what is and seems to be—
said behind backs or vis–á-vis.

So though you haven’t told me that
you find me boring, crass or fat,
I know as clearly as though you had.
And when I seem withdrawn or sad,
it’s not that I have ESP
that tells me what you think of me.

It’s simply that I pay attention
to more than what you choose to mention.
Though these extra perceptions take their toll,
they’re nothing that I can control.
I can’t shake them, try as I might.
It seems that I have “oversight.”

 

The prompt word today was “oversight.”

Rocky Balboa and Uriah Heep Meet on Rodeo Drive

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The Prompt: Write a post in which the protagonists of two different books or movies meet for the first time. How do  they react to each other? Do they get along?

I was a witness as Uriah Heep just happened to stumble upon Sylvester Stallone gazing at his reflection in the front window of a chichi little shop on Rodeo Drive.  I admit that I loitered nearby, eavesdropping. I knew this was going to be good!

Rocky Balboa and Uriah Heep Meet on Rodeo Drive

Uriah sidled closer to get an autograph,
but he was intercepted by a member of Sly’s staff.
“Please do not loiter here, sir,”  the officious flunky said.
Her expression was most haughty. Her eyes just cut him dead.

Uriah’s voice was cloying as he said, “My esteemed sir,
I’m just an ‘umble man. I didn’t want to cause a stir.
But it would be so gratifying for a worm like me
to get to touch the pants hem of a real live star like thee!”

Sylvester spun upon his heel, surveyed the quivering mess.
“It won’t hurt to please the little man one time, I guess,”
Sly thought as he bestowed a smile meant to relieve the tension,
at the same time, putting out his hand with condescension,

thinking he might kiss it, but instead that low man’s knee
was brought up to make contact with Sylvester’s fabled vee,
causing his pitch forward ’til in the street he lay.
And this is what Uriah said as he walked away:

“I may be sly and unctuous–a real pain in the ass,
but even a lowlife like me still has a little sass.
My humble’s spilling over ’til it doesn’t seem quite real,
and so I thought I’d show Stallone some of what I feel.”

How the great man is brought down to eating humble pie.
For once Uriah can look down to meet him in the eye.
As he writhed in agony, the star made not a peep.
Now Uriah is the Sly one while Stallone’s become a heap.

Note: Okay, I’m sorry. For the poem. For the sick pun. Everyone has an off day now and then.