Tag Archives: silly poem

Fauna Fashion

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Fauna Fashion

Fox in sox and cats in spats.
Dogs in clogs and rats in hats.
When pigs are on sabbatical,
they’re rather acrobatical,

so they depend on spandex suits
as well as stretchy rubber boots
to make sure they don’t skid and fall
when they’re performing in the mall.

In urban settings, it’s a blessing
that there’s more reason to be dressing
formally. Of course that means
a negative on cut-off jeans.

Cool cats are not satisfied
until they have been spatified,
and sequined tops and silken slacks
are de rigueur, as are scoop backs.

But, perchance, have you been  guessing
the one bird not fond of dressing?
(His response you’ll find less quirky
when you hear that it’s the turkey.)

Prompts today are fox, sabbatical, negative, urban and satisfied. All illustrations are free images from the internet.

Misnamed

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Misnamed

I admit my name seems to lack a certain beauty.
I’ll never be an eponym. Who wants a town named Judy?

It’s clear that my name never makes it into poet talk.
No unfortunate child will be the chip off my old block.

Interlaced with second names —Agatha or Jeanette,
still that silly first name is as basic as you get.

The reception that it gets in lists is surely less than fine.
Somehow I always end up being sent to last in line.

It’s not correct to grumble over names, but all the same,
why give a perfect child such a clearly imperfect name?

 

 

Prompts today are interlace, correct, reception, eponym and chip.

On the Subject of Similes vs. Metaphors: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 26

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Advice to a Poetry Critic

Each poet worth her salt adores
well-appointed metaphors,
but when they step up to the mike,
similes they only like.
Before you discuss simile
consult an expert vis a vis
the difference between the two
so you will never have to rue
mislabeling your imagery.
Hyperbole is not allusion,
so don’t add to the confusion.
Synecdoche to oxymoron––
as you choose what to write more on––
get their names right for your reader.
There’s more to poems than rhyme and meter!

This is a rerun from a few year ago, but couldn’t resist using it for NaPoWriMo.

Splitting Hairs with My Shrink

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Splitting Hairs with My Shrink

Mustard on my hot dogs, ketchup on my fries,
a paper napkin handy to ward off all the flies
trying to disport themselves by crouching on my food,
sharing all the germs they’re rumored to exude.

If I had some shrink wrap, before they alight,
I’d cover up my dinner between every bite.
Would this be outrageous? Would it be overkill?
Should I uncover it for them when I’ve had my fill?

I’m feeling quite outrageous here chatting with my shrink
sharing what I eat and do and say and think.
Will I be a protagonist or will she despise
a person who refuses to share leftovers with flies?

 

Prompts today are mustard, outrageous, protagonist, disport and shrink.

Ever After

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Ever After

A pair of decent buttocks could bring him to a halt.
Distorted or unusual to him was not a fault.
High or low or sagging part way to the floor,
he cared not how big they were. He cared not what they wore.
Clad in silk or denim, chambray or flour sacks,
he simply loved what bodies carried on their backs.
You would find him tongue-tied if you met him on your way,
but as he turned to watch you as you walked away,
he could pen a sonnet on what went through his mind
as he reconnoitered you purely from behind.

Prompt words today are unusual, halt, buttocks, distorted, decent.

Impertinent Food: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 20

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Impertinent Food

I don’t enjoy it when food talks back.
A potato chip or Crackerjack
makes too much noise when you are chewing,
and gives away what you are doing.

Beans tattle in retrospect
so all around you folks suspect
that you have eaten of their fruit,
betrayed by legume’s blatant toot.

Food should be eaten but not heard.
That it talks back is most absurd.
That’s why edibles less rude
are my favorite sorts of food.

NaPoWriMo prompt: I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that anthropomorphizes a kind of food.

Wise Words from the Mockingbird

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mock
Wise Words from the Mockingbird

If I were alate, I’d have wings
to fly me up and over things.
I’d feast on everything that grows,
from oranges to tangelos,
then perch in trees to overhear
all the people who passed near.

When lovers squabbled under me,
I’d fly on down and referee.
I’d convey my firm conviction
in my aviary diction
that to squabble is absurd—
to rise above the common herd.

I simply can’t accentuate
sufficiently the words I’d state.
If you want your love to last,
after a squabble, make up fast.
Listen to my every word:
sound advice from the mockingbird.

 

Prompts for the day are referee, conviction, accentuate, alate and orange. Image from Unsplash.

Rabble-Rouser

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Rabble-Rouser

I am the king of rave and rant,
the champion of irrelevant.
I raid the nest and throw the eggs.
I raise the lid. Stir up the dregs.
I abhor a quiet ride.
I want the chaos that’s inside.
I’m not a fan of calm reflection.
I stir up trouble, prompt dejection.
What arises is bound to fall,
and I contribute to it all!!!

Prompts for today are eggs, irrelevant, arise, abhor and reflection. I want to thank my compliant “poser” for being willing to mimic the worst in us.

Mirror Image

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Mirror Image

She’s a dingy sort of doppelganger, lackluster and fretful,
and when I’ve caught a glimpse of her, she seems to be forgetful.
She looks surprised to see me and although it should be magic,
when she catches sight of me, it seems she finds it tragic.

It’s a shame she never catches me when I am at my peak,
and so I seem to be an image that she’d like to tweak.
We both look in the mirror and we don’t like what we see,
the irony of that being that both of us are me!!

 

Prompt words today are doppelganger, tragic, forgetful, dingy and peak.

About the assemblage:

              “After Picasso: Self-examination” 

The watch part that serves as the womb to the woman beats with the pulse beat of the child within, whereas the mirror reflection contains no moving parts.  An antique “Tabu” powder tin  is imprisoned in an old  pocket watch case.  A tiny portrait of a woman is framed by one of the watch parts that make up the rest of this collage.

Culinary Apologies

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Culinary Apologies

Though some would say that I’m a flake
when I’m called upon to bake,
and though I qualify just barely,
I feel I’m typecast most unfairly.

True, I rank with all the rookies
when it comes to baking cookies,
and my cupcakes don’t win prizes
at anything but worst surprises.

Nonetheless, my precedent
at providing less than I had meant
is never intentional.
It’s just that I am rather dull

when it comes to pleasuring
by sifting, baking, measuring.
I lack that culinary calm
so never cook without a qualm.

When I baked banana bread
and measured powdered sugar instead
of flour, yes, I must confess
it created an awful mess.

And when I burned the chicken stew
because I had so much to do,
I hope that you remember that
I trimmed the plants and fed the cat,

wrote a poem and made some art,
(scorched the toast and burned the tart)
took the puppy for a walk,
phoned a friend and had a talk.

So though my fridge is lacking stuff,
I find my life is full enough
All in all, what I’ve got cookin’
may not be where you are lookin’.

Prompts today are flake, calm, intentional, typecast and precedent. (If you want to read about the powdered sugar debacle, click on the link where it is mentioned in the poem.)