Tag Archives: silly poem

The Fix

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The Fix

They say it was just happenstance that they ever met—
she a wealthy spinster, he of the lower set.
He liked his women spicy. She was a basket case.
She, aloof and cloistered, considered workmen base.

She had notified the landlord of a problem with her plumbing.
For at least a week, he promised that someone was coming,
so by the time the plumber finally came to fix her pipes,
she was apoplectic—chock full of niggling gripes.

Any other normal man would have been offended
when she hovered and she chattered as he soldered, wrenched and mended,
but he had an even temperament, so he maintained his cool
as she niggled over every move and questioned every tool.

Finally, as she hovered, questioning that and this,
he simply rose and drew her into a passioned kiss
that stifled all her sputterings
and muffled all her mutterings,

until she ceased her protests, surrendered to the fun
and  repaid him all his kisses, returning one for one.
It was a simple wedding with little pomp or strife.
And that is how the lady found someone to fix her life.

 

Prompt words for the day are happenstance, aloof, spicy, notify and basket.

Reckless in Retrospect

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Reckless in Retrospect

I’d love to be spontaneous, spur-of-the moment, rash—
to burn my candle at both ends, right down to the ash.
Impulsive and incautious, impetuous and careless.
Have hair-raising adventures up to the time I’m hairless.

But I was born of parents both dependable and prudent.
I was a cautious driver and a conscientious student.
I planned my life out to a “T,” kept calendars and planners.
I wore my skirts down to my knees and always watched my manners.

If perfect is as perfect does, by now I’d be a saint.
The only problem is, in spite of all of this, I ain’t!!!
I might as well have had some fun and risked a wrong decision.
For after all of this, I’ve found there’s scant fun in precision.

The prompt word still unpublished when I wrote my prompt poem this morning was spontaneous. Here it is, in a poem all its own.

High Finance

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High Finance

Dabble in the market? I’d do so if  I could,
but to instigate investment? I fear I never would.
I prefer my piggy bank. I save my loose change there.
Never have I broken it. I really wouldn’t dare.
I have it on a high shelf next to a crystal prism.
To get the money out, I’d have to create such a schism
that I could  never fix  it, so I just don’t have the heart.
I prefer my piggy bank as a work of art.
The value that’s within it I find is secondary.
I’ll just use my credit card at the Cash and Carry!

Prompt words for today are schism, instigate, dabble, unlikely and could.

Jurisprudence

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The Defendant
The Claimant

Jurisprudence

One litigant a teddy bear, the other a stuffed bunny.
The plaintiff acting churlish, the defendant merely funny.
The judge’s view obstructed by the toy box’s high rim,
she declared a change of venue out to the jungle gym
where the judgment was decided by an animated race
to see who could swing highest without plummeting through space,
but before the final verdict could even be recited,
it seems a higher ruling had already been decided.

A necessary recess was called for by the judge.
She told the bear and rabbit they should not dare to budge.
When her mother declared nap time, she said that they’d resume
as soon as she was given the chance to leave her room.
She left Barbie, the bailiff, to insure that they’d be good
and both of them assured her that of course they would.
But in the end both parties wound up in custody
after the judge’s jailer called an emergency

made necessary when hard rain and a gusty wind
tumbled teddy bear and bunny both end over end.
So by the time the judge woke up, a power that was higher
had sent claimant and defendant to confinement in the dryer.
Then the rabbit hung from one ear and the teddy from his tie
from the clothesline in the laundry until both of them were dry.
Then there was a happy ending with all of them set free
as judge and bear and bunny wound up on daddy’s knee!

The Judge

The higher power and the bailiff

The prompt words today are view, emergency, churlish, animated and funny. I asked Forgottenman for a sixth and he gave me litigant.

A Stroll in the Park is not What it Used to Be

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A Stroll in the Park is not What It Used to Be

This park is overrated. It is not my zone of choice.
One cannot be heard here unless you raise your voice.
The signs are not well-written. They’re curt and brash and rude.
One gets pebbles in one’s shoes when fashionably shoed.
Little dogs are walked here that irritate my nose,
and I don’t approve of the scanty jogging clothes.
If the Queen were walking here, I think she would be shocked,
for not one single passer-by is stockinged, gloved and frocked!
All-in-all, a walk here is not what it once was.
I only visit here because the ice cream vendor does!

Prompt words today are pebble, written, zone, overrated and choice.

Boarding the Astral Plane

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Boarding the Astral Plane

Living on the astral plane would be so very camp.
When you lie upon the ground, you never would get damp.
No one would delimit the boundaries of your soul.
Anywhere or anything could be your final goal.
If I could book a ticket on the astral plane,
I’d hop aboard and never come back to earth again.

Prompt words today are astral, camp, book and delimited. (Never heard that one before!)

My Weirdest Post Ever. Sorry.

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Prodigy

He shook his bag of marbles at me in a jocular fashion.
It seems this childhood game is his secret guilty passion.
He had faith that eventually I would slake his thirst,
in spite of my conviction that marbles is the worst
game ever invented, for you see rampant sciatica
coupled with my daily dependence on Sal Hepatica
made my kneeling difficult, uncomfortable, and
rendered it most difficult, afterwards, to stand.

But his most stubborn diligence in begging for a bout
at last contradicted my reluctance and my doubt.
I picked me out a shooter and commenced to knuckle down—
the fact we played for keepsies occasioning my frown.
But it seems I am a prodigy—most artful with my thumb.
It wasn’t very long until he realized how dumb
it was to introduce me to this game that hurt my ribs
bending low to shoot at his dragonflies and mibs.

First I won his cats eye and then I won his aggie.
And when I won his shooter, I fear I became braggie.
In the end, I won at that game that he called ringer
by making a maneuver that proved to be a zinger.
And my friend the marble shark paid for all his sins
as I emptied out his marble sacks and emptied out his bins.
I left with all his marbles rattling in my tin,
grateful that he’d never ask to play the game again!

Prompt words today are marble, shake, jocular and eventual.

Advice on the Introduction of a New Species

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photo by Andrew Rice used with permission

Advice on the Introduction of a New Species

Lions don’t do well in a setting too bucolic.
Their herding instinct’s lethal and they flunk in ovine frolic.
Lions need to stalk and kill. They need open savannas.
They’d eat all the lambs and for dessert, eat all their nannas!
And if we shut the lions up, they’d go into decline.
Living in small cages simply isn’t leonine.
Lions need to roam the plains lest they become pathetic.
There’s nothing half so sad as a lion that’s apathetic.

Oh no. I somehow erased the pingbacks for the four prompts for this poem! Thanks to okcforgottenman for pointing this out. Well, better late than never. The prompt words were lion, apathetic, shut and bucolic.

Sanctuary

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Sanctuary

What happened to dragons? What happened to fairies?
Banished by scientists and actuaries,
their truth of existence just can’t be computed.
The fact they exist is too soundly refuted.
Yet every child, awake in his bed,
knows they exist right there in his head!

 

The dVerse Poets prompt today was to write a quadrille (44 words) on the subject of dragons.

The Wager

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The Wager

When I was a mere teenager,
my dad made a little wager.
Could I manage to exist
by guile and craft and will and fist

without allowance or assistance?
It was not at his insistence,
and in no way was I miffed
at his challenge aimed at thrift.

I packed a bag and caught a lift.
For one year I would simply drift.
Quietly would I abscond 
and win my keep as vagabond.

I’d leave a life humdrum and canned
to live a life less gray and bland.
And thus I started my vacation
around our great and varied nation.

In California, I mowed lawns,
in Texas, worked at shucking prawns.
Combined wheat in South Dakota.
Then made off for Minnesota.

Washing pots and dishing curry,
worked my way down to Missouri.
In Tennessee I met with luck
and crossed the whole state in a truck,

but by D.C. and Baltimore,
grunt labor had become a bore,
so when I finally reached the ocean,
suddenly I had the notion

to make a call to dad from son
telling him his son had won.
The call I made was not in vain,
for next day I was on a plane.

Tattered, back-sore, sunburned, chapped,
I showed my dad the miles I’d mapped.
He slapped my back and said, “Well, son,
you’ve done what I wished I had done

before I did each of those things
that doing what one ‘should’ do brings.”
He slapped a check into my hand
and promised college, job or land.

I would be sent to school or hired—
whatever now I most desired.
I told my dad I’d let him know
but for just now I had to go.

I hit the bank and cashed his check,
bought new clothes and washed my neck.
Grabbed my passport, kissed my mom,
let her feed me, dropped the bomb.

Hugged my dad, then counted coup
and hopped a plane for Katmandu.
I hadn’t traveled my last mile,
but from now on, I’d go in style!

 

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The prompt words today are drift, humdrum, abscond and wager.