Oh! De Cologne!!!
Certainly, you never meant
when you walked out,
to leave your scent
behind you like a noxious cloud.
Since air pollution’s not allowed,
you must admit that you’ve been rude
to leave your perfume thickly strewed
throughout the room as you skedaddled,
leaving us gasping and rattled,
coughing, nauseous, choking, sneezing,
rendered helpless in our wheezing.
Next time you visit,
please heed this poem
and leave your perfume cloud
at home!!!
Rich Harvest
The night that we brought in the wheat,
our weeks of labor now complete,
we raised our voices, beat our feet,
and in that stifling prairie heat,
weary and arm-sore, yet replete
with satisfaction for jobs well-done
earned in the dust and chaff and sun,
we ceased our labors and had some fun.
Hank gave the prim schoolteacher a treat
by lifting her from her safe seat
to move her to the fiddler’s beat.
Soon, her hairpins met defeat,
her wild hair anything but neat,
and Hank was heard to woo the miss
and then to plant a tender kiss.
She remembers all of this
now that their family’s complete
with Rita, Sarah, and little Pete.
Now every harvest, when you greet
each townsperson you chance to meet,
chances are they will repeat
how Hank brought in the wheat that year
and afterwards, conquered his fear
and dared to call the school marm, “dear.”
The dVerse Poets prompts today are harvest and haunting–to use one or both as our theme in a poem. It is a bit early in the month for “haunting,” so I’m sticking to the harvest theme. To read other poems written to these themes go HERE.
Poetic Reconstruction
I’m going to the hospital. I’ve made a reservation,
for I am much in need of a creative restoration.
I need an operation to regain my way of seeing.
I’m going to regain my glow–the fiber of my being.
I suffer from prosaism. Triteness clogs each vein.
My poetic diagnosis? Derivative. Inane.
The abundance of my poems does not refute the fact
of the originality that lately they have lacked.
So, take me to the hospital. I’m ready to be cut.
I’m ready to be lifted from my creative rut.
Unveil my eyes, unblock my brain. Clear pathways to my heart,
but as you improve parts of it, please leave the broken part.
For all the pleasures of the world do not make up a whole.
It also takes some sorrows to feed a poet’s soul.
For the Moonwashed Weekly Prompt: Poetic (I chose the word “poetic” as the prompt, not the raindrop photo.)
Ode to a Rotund Robin
You alight, to peck and swallow.
In my bird feeder, you wallow—
driving other birds away
to gorge yourself both night and day.
Now as you struggle to arise,
spreading your wings up to the skies,
watching your labored ascent,
I raise the question of your descent.
Have you reckoned on your girth
in planning for your fall to earth?
For the Three Things Challenge the prompt words are : Alight, descent, raise. Image thanks to Unsplash.
Novice
The world’s most darling vampire needs some practice with his biting,
for he is not schooled in pursuing or in fighting.
His fangs have gone unpracticed in neck piercing and in ripping,
so his mouth is only being used for food chewing and sipping!
For The dVerse Poets
To see other poems written for this prompt, go HERE.
Adventures in Walking
Wobbling in on three-inch heels,
I cringed and swayed and wobbled.
They were the strangest sort of shoes
that cobblers ever cobbled!
When they brought in a second pair,
I couldn’t help but shudder.
I couldn’t walk in the first pair.
Why would I want anudder?
For the Three Things Challenge, the words are: Cringe, Shudder, Wobble
Selective Superstition
I don’t believe in messages delivered by astrology.
I think my personality’s a matter of biology.
Images in crystal balls I’m sure are just projections.
I’m not about to spend my dough on engineered reflections.
But still I pluck at daisies. Does he love or does he not?
And I check out daily the Tarot cards I bought.
Every scattered grain of salt I throw over my shoulder,
and I won’t step on sidewalk cracks now that my mother’s older.
I’m flexible, I guess you’d say, dealing with superstition.
I want the ones I follow to match my disposition.
If I’m the one in charge of the ones that I am choosing,
I tend to have control of what I’m gaining or I’m losing.
MVB prompt: Superstitious
. . . Next to Godliness
Tuck in all the corners,
fold in all the sides.
Squared-off bundles are all that
our tidy world abides.
Snipped off little endings
must be swept up with a broom.
You must remove all evidence
of trimmings in your room.
The Doomsday Clock is ticking
and before it tolls our ending,
please clean up all your messes
that you have left pending.
You don’t want to leave evidence
that you were less than tidy
when the time comes that you must
meet with the Almighty!!!
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “tack/tech/tick/tock/tuck.’” Use one or use ’em all for the bonus points. Enjoy!
Lunch Date
One thing I’d like that I will mention
is some old-fashioned attention.
The kind with no device in hand
is the kind that I can stand
better than the sort with texting—
minds caught in “before” and “next”ing—
and not a thought for whom you’re with
until I’m sure that it’s a myth
that I’m the one you want to see,
even though you have invited me.
For though our table is for two,
you bring so many more with you—
every relative and friend.
Your texts to them just never end.
Our tete a tete‘s become absurd.
I never get to speak a word!
Since I’ve discovered you’ve come to see
your smart phone as more smart than me,
there’s just one thing I’d like to state.
Please cancel our next luncheon date,
and the next time you desire a munch,
just take your iPhone out to lunch!
Parting Words
Before Rhett Butler went on the lam,
“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!”
was his parting imprecation
before he he left on his vacation.
For My Vivid Blog the prompt is Profanity.
